E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

I t has been 2 weeks and 2 days since my mother died. Such is the nature of mourning. Every day counts. Each days brings us farther from the incalculable mystery of when they were still alive, and able to communicate with us. There are few key messages to give to a parent, when there are few minutes left. I love you, or I am sorry - or maybe, I forgive you - but always, finally, I love you, and thank you. I want to write more about my mother, but she was very private. I will say, now, as Halloween nears - she was the kind of mother who would sew elaborate costumes for my brother and me. I once went as Kanga with Roo in my pocket (in fact of course my Roo was a Kanga doll). My mother was born in the Eastern Townships , Quebec, Canada, in a rural setting, though her parents were teachers. She had 3 sisters and one brother, and was the eldest sibling, which early on established her take charge approach. She spent some summers on the Gaspe peninsula, in Port Daniel, where her uncle and aun...

 My mother, Mary Margaret, has died. Three days ago. I'd like to write more now, but she was very private, and did not want public obituaries or death notices. In time, when her memorial is on the horizon, or sooner but not now, I want to write something about her, in prose. For now, I am simply devastated.