Ever since my dear elderly neighbor passed away last week, the possums have been asking lots of questions about life and death. Admittedly I do not have many answers, but I do my best to comfort them and allay their fears. My daughter decided yesterday to compose a letter to Mr. Dodson. She wanted to draw him a picture and put it in his mailbox so he would get it in heaven. As usual, she asked me how to spell most of the words. “Mommy, how do you spell ‘I miss you and I hope that you are all warm and snuggly in your grave with your family.’” I guess I’ve done a successful job of creating a kinder, gentler view of death.