Thoughts

*Photographs and memories 

Christmas cards you sent to me 

All that I have are these 

To remember you . . . 

May is my mother's birthday month.  Before my mother's death, the first part of May was always full of preparing Mother's Day celebrations and, of course, the impending birthday celebrations.  

Since then, the month is flooded with memories of times gone by.  

This year has had that same dynamic with one exception.  This year, I can't shake the sense of longing for the relationship I wish had developed between my father and me.   

He and I weren't close. We had made peace before his death.  

And since then, I've been able to... compartmentalize the mixed emotions.  

Or, so I thought. 

It feels weird to be weighed with memories of his presence (or lack thereof) while remembering my mom in the shadow of her 85th birthday. 

Photographs and memories...   

This song is about the longing for a loved one, a romantic partner.  It has always hit me differently, these last few weeks, more than ever.  

Photographs and memories 

Christmas cards you sent to me 

All that I have are these 

To remember you . . . 

Take very gentle care,  

*songwriter: Jim Croce

Longest Week

The week between the day my mother entered hospice care and the day she died is easily the longest and worst week of my life. This week (oddly enough, very nearly the same set of days six years later) comes in at a very close second.

Earlier this month our condo building was deemed uninhabitable by the village due to the absence of running water. Mind you, we've been existing without hot water for months prior to this new designation; a fact the village was maybe not so blissfully unaware.

The water shut-off is due to polar vortex-induced busted pipes leading to water spilling about the village street. Something they frown upon.

The times, they have been hard.

Over the past several days I (we) have been furiously endeavoring to relocate before the village takes the next step, whatever that is upon a domicile being deemed uninhabitable. How many more days will they allow? I don't know. I can't afford to care. Particularly since the association is broke in every conceivable way. It. Is. Time. To. Go.

Thanks to the very fine and furiously expedited help of two local social service agencies and a very good friend, relocation is mere hours and some heft away for the daughter and me. The son is making his own arrangements, finding his own way. Happy Birthday to him, by the way.

The anniversary of my son's birth not-with-standing, I can say with fervent candor that February is doing its damnedest to earn the position of my least favorite month.

But then again, maybe this move, these series of events, will prove a very positive turning point in our lives.

We'll see.  March On!

Hazy Days

Three years ago this month I was laid off from my job, still reeling from my mother's death a few months prior. I'd been with the family of companies since 1979. In that time I married, had (and raised) two kids, got divorced, came out as a lesbian, had relationships with two women, came out as atheist, sat with my mother during her last week, last seconds....

In other words, lived a life. And then part of it, a big part, was suddenly over. Well, not so sudden, I'd read the writings on the walls. The company had fallen on hard times and ownership mis-manged away all of our futures.

So, a shift was in order. A re-building, re-branding. The last three years have been among the most challenging of my 56. And let me tell you, I've had some challenging years. But, having said that, I sit here today . . .

Photo: Facebook

"When something bad happens you have three choices. You can let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you."  ~author unknown. 

able to say, able to be . . stronger.  May peace be with the family and friends (and all of us, really) affected by the Orlando massacre.  
Equality Florida established a donation site. 

#MicroBlog Monday