Saturday, 12 March 2016


Yesterday, March 11th,  one year ago my mother died.
One year ago.
Funny how fast this past year flew by and really it does feel like only 
Every day since,  I have replayed all the events that transpired during the weeks I spent with her during the whole ordeal and then the weeks afterward just plodding through all the details that follow a death.

Mostly I ruminate about what I could have or should have done differently.  Silly, yes, as we all did the best we knew how and every decision and action was fraught with so much emotion.
It brought some of us in the family closer and it caused disintegration of the already tenuous ties with others.
The 'new order'  in the family is now different and in so many ways 'better'.
I guess when your last parent dies there is permission granted to become a full-fledged adult once and for all.
No need anymore for pretense.
So say what you mean and mean what you say but try to do it kindly.
Maybe that is their parting gift to us, their children -- a final letting go for us to figure things out for ourselves.
Well, for me it has been a sad year and a very introspective year as well as a year of shifting priorities and loyalties.
My mother was honest,  sometimes annoyingly so,  but I admire that more now than ever.  She didn't always sugarcoat her assessments and she rarely wavered on an opinion.
Since her death I realize I need to be more like that and also because
 all our stories will end the same way -- one moment, one day,  we will just stop living.

Thanks, Alyce,
                                                   for everything.



kevel88 said...

Wow! Already been a year. That was a series of unfortunate events. It makes us realize how fragile life is especially in the "golden" years. You followed your mothers wishes! May we be as active up to "the end".....

Auryette said...

It's been 38 years for my mom and not a day goes by that I don't think about her. Sometimes I still cry about it. Gina, I sent you an e-mail about Canada. I hope you get it.