writing about mom

I've been waiting to share this new piece, "Mom Can't Remember," out in Thimble Literary Magazine's spring 2025 issue.
I won't say it's deeply personal (though it is) because duh, all writing is. As writers what we put on the page is filtered through our worldview, is our creation, what's on our mind, sticks in our craw, excites us, frustrates us, worries enrages motivates thrills us.

I'm avoiding getting to the point but the point is, this one's about my mother and the complexity of her after suffering a grave illness.

If adulthood is figuring out who to blame, I'm still working on that.
I loved her and love her, I feared her and sometimes admired her.
I miss her every day.

this is love

How do you celebrate amid grief and worry? 

We did, last week, sisters and nieces and assorted family. Some were unable to join due to work, but the rest of us traveled across states and borders and storms and troubling times to find a bright sliver of hope being together, laughing, bickering, snacking, thrift shopping, remembering.

We celebrated a dear one's victory over a serious illness, and mourned the departure of one less fortunate. We visited my mother's grave, weeping and sipping her beloved diet Dr. Pepper. 

One family member baked the tenderest of cookies, another gifted hand-sewn baskets, others created a space that was gorgeously luxurious.

We did not grow up saying I love you in words and even though now we do, I also know: this is love