When Barry died, he traveled where I could not go yet.  His passport was stamped Heaven, mine was stamped Heartbroken. I was thrust into a country I didn’t book reservations for. Each time I asked my GPS ( God Prayer Service) for a ticket to Life Before, the answer remained the same.  No return flight.  Some of you understood that implicitly. You didn’t ask the gate agent when I’d be returning home to Life Before or look to a flight attendant to exchange your seats to provide you more comfort.  You rushed to my new country without hesitation.  Some of you arrived without words, tentatively, but you stayed and listened,…