I cried last night, Gentle Reader, because today would have been my mother’s birthday.
The pain has faded somewhat, or if faded is not the right word, then substitute “become familiar.” Because it has. It’s still there, it’s still raw, but I’m accustomed to rawness by now.
We expect to lose our parents, of course. It’s a common thought in my life, but one I never expected so young. And to lose her so suddenly, to not have seen her before she passed, these things haunt me as much as her memory does.
So take your loved ones and hold them tight today. Celebrate August 13 with laughter, my mother’s favorite medicine. She was a funny woman; let’s be funny on her behalf.
Much love, friends.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 