Quite suddenly, my mother died last month. She would have been 86 this August.
She is about 7 in this piece. Her sister, who died when I was three, stands beside her.
Mourning is a kind of stillness, washed through with grief.
The work of every day -food, shopping, teaching- makes no sense.
And senseless new work of official endings needs to be done.
I've been on the phone a lot.
Many many thanks to the friends who've reached out.
I've had an education this month in the value of just showing up, saying "I'm sorry," and leaving something to eat later. Thank you all.