I have texts in my phone from Fraser and from my Mom. I don't want to delete them because they help me feel the immediacy of their presence and also of my losing them. This seems important not to forget.
|Aaarrrgh! Miss you Fraser!|
|Me, Fraser and Lex last summer|
|Fraser & Lex on the strip|
|One of my favorite pictures of Fraser & Lex|
Accepting and mourning my mother's death seems more complicated and more simple all at the same time. Her life is over and mine goes on. Simple.
Trying to understand her life in retrospect is interesting and complex. I only intersected her life in the last 52 years. Though that is a substantial chunk of time, there was plenty of her life that did not involve me at all. One must respect this about a parent. And I think this is easily forgotten when we become an adult, namely that our parent has a rich and meaningful life that has absolutely nothing to do with us. And I am still sorting out pieces of all that in many ways.
I can now reinvent anything I wish about my childhood and my past with nearly no one who can refute a tall tale! Wow, what freedom! I could invent gallant, heroic William Faulkner like war stories about myself. (I love how Faulkner invented a war wound for himself.) Oh wait, I haven't been to war. Oh well. I could exaggerate my fencing victories--but I have boxes medals that are more fun to go through that doing that would be.
I could write a novel that safely uses pieces of my history that I would not freely exhibit before now. Artistic and creative freedom. Hmmm, this sounds good.
|Me and my Mom at Owen's graduation.|
Yes, that is a green bindi on my forehead.
Couldn't find my blue one.
I always tell my son that I am taller than he is. These photos do not support that fact! So I may have to delete them!
My son had his first beer on this night at dinner. I won't post the picture though out of deference to his carefully guarded geeky reputation.
|Glad my son graduated so I could wear my sari. And I AM taller than Owen.|
|Marge Collier, proud grad and me.|