I had a beautiful scarf that I bought myself when I was out shopping with my precious first daughter. It was a warm gold and orange and turquoise, vibrant and fiery and calming all at once. I was wearing it on the day that I looked into my car's rear view mirror and saw my … Continue reading Lost scarf with gold thread
Death
Kit Currie – Missing Woman and my Thoughts
Fair Play or Foul Play - Awaken my Rage against Violence Against WomenI am re-posting this post about a missing woman who was last seen at Queen and Bathurst in downtown Toronto, jumping on her bike. As soon as I saw her photo with her wide smile and two braids I thought of a friend … Continue reading Kit Currie – Missing Woman and my Thoughts
Bummer, Blues and Visions of a Radiated Sea
I had some good thoughts yesterday but I have forgotten them now. I am thinking in colours and textures. Did I have an insight about death? No, nothing there, just a flash of darkness that passes through me. But not an actual thought. We are approaching the first year since my Mom died and I have … Continue reading Bummer, Blues and Visions of a Radiated Sea
I missed you but I was busy thinking
I have gone through a quiet stage. I even hesitate to write in my journal. Sometimes I feel tired just thinking about putting my thoughts into writing. But I don't feel bad or sad at all. I am cruising. I am thinking. I remember talking with an American cousin of mine about whether natural birth … Continue reading I missed you but I was busy thinking
Smiling at a Potted Plant
"I just smiled at a potted plant, thinking it was you”. She thought she saw me at her table when I was having a long distance phone call with my Mom. This was when her mind was beginning to go a bit wild. I did not know it then but it was a sign of things to … Continue reading Smiling at a Potted Plant
Red Sun in Morning
I type in the dark, fingers missing keys, as my daughter sleeps in shadowy futon couch bed in the corner of my study; a grown woman planning her big move to the west coast of the United States. Today she turns 21. The first fall without my Mom. She has passed away. Passe Compose. When … Continue reading Red Sun in Morning
Mama – Last Word
I made one more trip to see mom before she died. I went straight down to see her and was dismayed to see how lifeless she was. She had not been sitting up for a few days, and she had stopped eating. I knew that, and I knew what was happening, and I knew why … Continue reading Mama – Last Word
Mama
My Mom’s dying is so gradual that I feel like I am watching a tree return to the earth. She hardly moves now, and Parkinson’s is stealing her voice and her expressions, just as she feared. But if I sit beside her and look into her eyes I know what she is thinking. Her eyes … Continue reading Mama
Mama is Preparing to Leave this World
Every time I return from Toronto I know that these trips will be over soon. After my Dad and his wife died I never went back to Victoria. The home, the chairs sitting in the sun, the desk with the photos, the box of tea, the couch where I crashed, was gone. Those very things … Continue reading Mama is Preparing to Leave this World
Tiny Moments of Reflection
In many tiny moments I think about life and death. If I am carefully pouring sugar water into a small glass bottle for hummingbirds, I think about my Dad and how he would have done this, when he was alive. How my Dad would have enjoyed my bird feeders, and laughed with me about the … Continue reading Tiny Moments of Reflection
Notes from a Sinking Isthmus 