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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, March 30, 2005

2.066 years old

Hannah was flipping through her small photo book, and she got to a picture of her being held by my mother. She pointed at Mom and said, “Grandma!”

Yes, baby girl. That’s your grandma. I wish she knew you now.


3 Comments:

At 2:05 PM, Blogger trisha said...

It is so sad. My father will never meet my son. On Earth, anyway. In this lifetime. I think.

I am comforted in knowing that I really don't know--maybe they did meet.

And most probably, in whatever way, your mom does know her.

 
At 3:37 PM, Blogger Didi said...

I feel the same way that N will never know my grandfather, who has been gone now for almost 10 years (!). :(

 
At 5:59 PM, Blogger alice, uptown said...

Em,

in 5 sentences, you convey so much poignancy, so much history, that I am truly in awe.

I read through your account of your mom's cancer, and it made me very sad, because I have two friends dying (at 43 and 44) of it as I write, and I can't imagine the horror of it all. Cancer sucks, indeed.

 

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