Postcards of Grief

Mourning is a process.

Comments on breast cancer by proxy, written by a woman coping with the loss of her mother.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

It all went by so fast

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Last year, you came over for dinner and to see Dar Williams and to stay the night. Beverly grew up near where I did, and she asked if you had lived in the area for very long. You told her the condensed version of your life story, not forgetting to include that you had proposed to Dad and had married very young and very quickly. You were married for almost thirty-four years.

Brooke made the stir fry with the fermented black beans, and we all just fell in love with it. We heard “The One Who Knows” for the first time, and we both cried. Then we went out for hot chocolate.

Oh, and we gave you red wine vinegar from our first ever homemade batch. And truffles from the swanky chocolate shop in town.

We never took you to our favorite Italian restaurant. Brooke and I are going there tonight because I need to do something to celebrate your life even when I feel so shitty.

I miss you.


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