enough joy and love to see me through my most recent loss, my missing my own mother as well as those women who no longer are present in life but live large in my heart and memories: Marilyn, Faye, Sr. Libby, and now Carole. Happy Mother’s Day.
I convinced a family friend who belonged to a rather unorthodox Jewish congregation to name her in his temple for two of the women I loved best in this world.
But that day in the museum, it was I who held her hand in mine. It was my hand supporting her, reassuring her, protecting her.
“I could feel the tracks on my cheeks burned into my memory from the tears I had shed in Sokolka.”
the joy is not in the keeping but in the giving
In those dark and awful moments, I knew fear, loss, and grief. I understood the horror of Covid.
Just like this society, we are stronger together.
There was also one rusty button pin with the image of a football and the deteriorating. faded remnants of blue and grey silk ribbons.
Life has changed with the pandemic, but love has not.
GG was an archetypical Pollyanna. She made lemonade.