The first time I went to our synagogue in years was while Dad was grieving. He had us all - including the lesbians from next door - dress in our best Sunday clothes and head over for a prayer service.
We all filed into the sanctuary, looking out of place yet still as if we belonged. It was as if everyone could tell the most Jewish thing this family ever did was my bar mitzvah, but they still accepted us nonetheless.
And we prayed. We prayed and prayed. But nothing happened.
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the five stages of grief ⇒ falsettos | ✔️ #Wattys2018
Fanfiction≫ the five stages of grief: a falsettos fanfiction ≪ we all grieve in different ways but after whizzer's funeral, marvin begins what mendel calls "the five stages of grief." get ready for an experience like no other in falsettoland. ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ ≫ a...
