Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Nine Years

With my sisters and Mom and all her side of the family, you have to be careful what you say.

If you say “I’d love one of those!” they insist “Take it” and send it home with you.

That’s how I got this handy-dandy jewellery bag that is hanging on the bathroom door. I admired Joan's and asked where I could buy one. 

Today is nine years since Mom went. I still have trouble saying "died." And while I think of her often, and enjoy thinking of her and talking about her, I don't think of her for long. It's too painful, and if I'm alone, I'll cry.

When she was dying, I couldn't imagine life going on after she was gone. I couldn't imagine myself 10 years into a future without her. And yet, here I am. There's something about it that makes no sense. 

I've decided: Supper is one thing that makes a house a home. Not breakfast or lunch, not even love or curtains. It's supper. 


  1. It is amazing how time marches on. I hope you manage to find a bright spot in your day. Take care.

    1. Thanks Teresa. The days aren't difficult; it's just those odd moments.

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  3. Your post today sounded so familiar. I am one of those"please, I want you to have it" people, and also someone who still, after 7 years, reaches for the phone to tell my mom something I know would make her laugh. And that makes me cry too. It's by far the richest of the various ways we could deal.


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