"The Past is Never Past"--William Faulkner

Hi kids! It's been a few weeks since what would have been, my Mom's Birthday: May 28th, 2015, came and went as a day for tears and what-could-have-beens. I miss Mom more every day; it's not true that you "get used to", or somehow feel less pain the further away you get from the time she died: it's just not true. I find myself "reviewing" all the decisions she made, the decisions my sister and I made, etc., etc...the sense of wistfulness remains unabated. And yet. I can--at times--take comfort that we did everything humanly possible for her. Everything I could conjure to show my love, my thankfulness, my joy for having been gifted with her, as my Mom, I conjured. Grateful-Fors too numerous to list, but the laughter she gave me, the untethered thinking and raw, aching wit that I inherited from her, are just a few. Her warmth, her grace, her "all-in" sense of family, this was my Mom. The tears come up, when I write, the tap-tap-tap of keys, a reminder of the sound of her fingers, tapping away, late at night, as she emailed this relative, or that, or checked in at my blog, to "see what Lisa has written...". Peace, kids.