When my grandmother Frances died this past summer, I stood at the front of the church to say a few words about her. The somber mood was momentarily broken as I said, “First, I want you all to know that I was my grandmother’s favorite.” Murmurs spread throughout the room at the thought of this, but from the family came looks of understanding and thankful relief from the grief that had recently taken hold of our hearts. I went on to describe how my grandmother had told me for years that I was her favorite, did special things to show …
