My sister, Terese Langdon, learned she was terminal at the darkest time of the year. The short days and overcast skies of late autumn seemed to mirror our sorrow. She knew she’d likely pass over the winter. And, she did. She was buried in St. Louis during a wild snowstorm in February. She couldn’t stop fate but she could have a say in her funeral proceedings. She requested a special memorial service for Chicago family and friends be held here in the spring. She’d hoped a nice day might

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