Benita, my stepmom was totally taken by surprise this Mother’s Day when Larry and I surprised her with a phone call and an invitation to look out her window. We were down below outside of her apartment. We enjoyed our time together this weekend, which is the first I’ve had the chance to see her since I was up last October to visit my father before his death in December. It’s been such a few years for all of us and just being together was lovely. We had Ivar’s fish-and-chips for lunch and went to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. Plus hugs and Mother’s Day. My brother and I went to live with my father and stepmother when our mom had her second of three heart surgeries. We ended up staying until we left home. I was nine when this happened (moving in with them, not leaving home – LOL). She raised us as her own through some tumultuous teen years, supporting our activities as Boy Scouts and even took guitar lessons with me when I started playing at age 12. Her heart is gold. I realize that what I wrote in IG doesn’t really capture my thoughts on her presence in my life, that’s for sure. And I suck at IG, basically. Which is probably a good thing.
I still believe in rock and roll . . . .
I am enjoying this. The lean and form as they run is lovely as is the film.
Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When dreams die, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve.
So I’m going to repeat a few words I’ve uttered countless times; words so powerful and honest they tear at the hubris of every jackass who participates in the debasing of the grieving:
Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.
This post – a bit older (2015) – really struck a note with me. Just thought I’d post it here, for all reasons and no reasons. Read the whole thing – it’s brilliant.