I am in here.
Why shouldn’t I be relieved? I am not happy, mind you. I have no plans to party now that you’re gone. It’s more like releasing a breath that I’ve been holding for forty-seven years. I don’t want to keep you from your journey, or me from mine. You were my mother for a reason. Why … Continue reading Dear Mom,
Hey you two, thanks for being my brothers! Y’all have helped a bunch. I picked out her funeral suit. They wanted a complete set of undies, too. So I just grabbed stuff off of each of the appropriate piles. I forgot a bottle of her nail polish. They wanted that too — but anyway, they’ll … Continue reading letter to the brothers
This is a moblog picture I took of a page of Mom’s writing… It was sitting on a card table in the den that contained piles of Christmas cards. Seemed to be a list of people to send cards to, though she hadn’t sent many out in past years. She used to insist on cards … Continue reading words..
So many long decades ago, when my mother and I were locked in a downward spiral of self- and other-annihilation, I used to imagine what it would be like for me to face her helpless on her hospital regulation deathbed, unable to answer all of the memories I would recall for her… having hysterics at … Continue reading Time. Passage thereof. Phone calls.
white pebble 