CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Clair chose the five-year anniversary of Stanley's death to visit him. Though she had never been to his grave site and didn't attend the funeral, today seemed like a special occasion. It was a somber, gloomy, cloudy afternoon, almost winter, with drizzle mixed with sleet. She had a grave map and wandered around for some time looking for it. Beyond a small hill, she noticed a bird flying in a tight circle.
“It couldn't be. Okay, Stanley, I'll bite.”
She walked over where the bird had been flying and there it was: his monument. It was a small, rectangular granite stone buried in the ground. At the top was a carved image of Jesus, his name, and date of birth; absent was the day of death. There was a simple inscription below:
Here lies one of God's angels and angels never
