A long winter

Running on loop in my mind, is the fact that mom is gone. One more year has passed, it’s been now three years. The grief, though, seems fresh as yesterday, even more poignant. It doesn’t even require an anniversary, every Saturday looms large and insurmountable, a remembrance of that fateful day when she passed on.

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The winter of life

Winters were much more warmer in my memories of the past, much more bearable. Perhaps it was because of the warmth from my mother’s body, as we slept side by side, that the cold seemed insignificant.