My parent(s) wanted me to go with her on a journey to find the meaning of life. When we lost my father in her early 30's, she became fixed on figuring out what life was all about. We began our impossible journey at the public library. We read every book we could get our hands on that spoke of life and what it means. Over the years we visited every church we could find. We found people praying, people pounding the bible, and some even speaking in tongues, which was the most amazing to my young self. I could write more, but let's just jump to the end. We finally grew weary of it, and my mother decided that the meaning of life is just that...to "mean" to have a life. Actually, that's not entirely the truth. I think my mother never gave up wondering. And I found peace in a life full of laughing, music and dancing.