My mom passed away 12 years ago. This is the season she was diagnosed with cancer for the second time. It's strange how the twitching light of late February and early March affects me and I think of her and those first weeks of "cancer again." I've been wanting to talk to her. I used to call her a lot about nothing, and we'd talk about everything and nothing. And when she died, I suddenly had no one. Yesterday, in my auto pilot hurry, I accidentally dialed her phone number. Heard the buzz: "Sorry, this phone number is temporarily unassigned." It startled me, realizing what I had done. There are no accidents. Right now I would give my eye teeth and half a ring finger to talk to her.
Yesterday, driving east along the parkway (road built to go nowhere), the lake (Ontario) was breath-taking, looked like a Georgia O'Keefe painting, a thousand small icebergs floating beneath a headstrong blue sky, and sun everywhere, not a shadow in sight. Watched a pair of mute swans fly overhead-- soon the fields will be filled with Canada geese and Mute and Trumpeter Swans. Wanted to stop on the side of the road, but there is no stopping these days. Everything is moving.
I'm entering an extremely busy time of year. Little rest. And now, suddenly Lent, how can that be?
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I lost my mother last year, and I hear stories like this all the time. Grief still hits me at weird moments --
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