So here I am in sunny Southern California, where the temperatures are rising, the smog is settling in and the humidity is finally down to 59% (from 72% a few days ago). I am just grateful that I can still breathe and haven't had to use the inhaler yet. Ah, for the clear, blue skies and dry air of my Northern Arizona home. I do love my morning walks to and from daily Mass, here. That's something I do not get to do at home. There, church is seven miles away and we only have "daily" Mass on Thursdays (and,of course, Sunday Mass).
Grief is an odd creature. Mom and I finally came to accept and even respect many of our differences in the last few years. We had begun a new direction in our relationship, I am sad that is over. I find myself flooded with some of my happiest memories of her and am comforted.
I feel sluggish, sorting through her things. Having to decide what to dispose of and what to keep is a burdensome task. Many of her things, mom allocated while she was still alive. But there are the clothes and shoes and books. Miscellaneous and sundry. Helping dad carry on and get back into a routine. Helping him to take over those dozens of little things that mom always took care of. And always just wanting to run away and sit on top of a mountain, with my back against a tree, eyes closed, listening to a stream of snow melt trickle softly down to a roaring river in a valley below. Letting all my grief, frustration, anger and fear melt away with it. Letting God refill me. Sigh. The meditation on it will have to do for now. Back to work.
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