It’s all creeping in on me now. This time last year Ed the Dog, my best dog EVER, was ten days away from me having to say goodbye. Then, not two weeks later, I said goodbye to my Mother. I need to remember to be kind to myself and others. And to expect fatigue. And to expect “trap doors” as everything from the length of the shadows to the flowers that are blooming this time of the year remind me on a subliminal level that I have experienced great loss and that now, a year later, it is not a bad dream, but the reality for the rest of my life.

“They” say the year anniversary of loss is worse than initial grief for that very reason.  There is no more shock, only cold and brutal acceptance.  This has always been true in my experience and I am not looking forward to it.

I believe in the spiritual world. I believe I am not really left behind.  But last night hosting my mah jongg group at my home I missed my Mom so desperately – she was really old and grouchy when she taught me to play mah jongg after she moved here, but taught me she did, and when I win or take joy in gazing on someone else’s win (mah jongg is truly an aesthetically beautiful game) I both know that she is “there” but I miss her laugh of delight when she would say, as I did last night: “It’s so much fun, isn’t it?”

Even writing this I recognize that the emotions are running wild without direction or reason.

Be kind to yourself, Mary, be kind to yourself.