Dear Mom, Both magazines you subscribed me to each year for the past lots of years arrived in the mail today. I remember how excited you'd get every Christmas reminding me to keep my eyes out in the mail for another part of my gift from you and Dad. Every year. And every time a new Guideposts would show up, I'd steep a cup of tea and call you. Sometimes we'd talk about the articles we'd read... usually "His Mysterious Ways"... our favorite. Other times, it was just another reason to talk. Another "thank you" for the gift that spread itself out throughout the year. I kept telling you how one of these days, I'd submit a piece of work or poetry into one of the Poets & Writers essay contests whenever I could find the time and focus to write. I still haven't. They've never arrived on the same day before. And today it was all just too much. I couldn't even flip past the cover. I seem not to be able to bring myself to do a lot of things these days ... I still haven't even listened to that last voicemail, still haven't taken off the hospital bracelet from September 24th, and now I can't even open the cover of a magazine because I know it'll hurt too much... so much for being strong, right? ...I made the girls grilled cheeses for lunch today... with tomato soup. I thought of all the little ways you made everything so special... even down to the way you'd cut our sandwiches into butterflies and sneak in an extra piece of cheese. I know this has nothing to do with magazines. I thought maybe it would get easier after a little while... that maybe I'd adapt somehow... or be able to cope better... but I've realized that grief seems to strengthen the longer it continues... because I find myself thinking, "okay, it's been a month... I should be handling this better by now..." but I'm wrong and I'm definitely not handling it better by now... not today at least. I don't know if it hurts worse to open the mailbox and see our shared subscriptions, or if it'll be so much worse when they stop coming altogether. I miss you, Mom. Love always, "Pookie"
Kaleidoscopic Grace 