It's been a year since I started to write that post that appeared last December 8 as it took me three days to figure out exactly how I wanted to put into words what was swimming through my mind. It was a year ago today that my mother passed away.
A year always sounds like a very long time--long enough, one would assume, that I'd stop thinking I'll call mom and see what she thinks, before catching myself. On the other hand, short enough that there's a guilt when I realize I've gone a few days without thinking about her and mourning at least a little. Not being able to share certain things: Stephen King raving about one of the books Dzanc has published, the recent NEA grant Dzanc received, positives her grandchildren accomplished in the last twelve months, has certainly caused sadness, but the overlying thing, the one that makes each day a little bit easier, is having been close enough to share things like that for the 44 years before this last year, and so knowing how she would have reacted to each event. Knowing when she'd have pulled me aside to offer quiet praise, or to chide me for letting somebody out of the house looking like that (most likely myself).
As is typical around here, there is a great deal going on today. Kids to be driven to school, to doctor's appointments, to practices, a list of things to do for Dzanc longer than my arm, etc. But at some point during the day or evening, I will honor her by spending some time reading. I might even truly honor her and read the last page first.