Monday, March 25, 2002


This past Saturday, I went to pick up Mom after her hair appointment. I rushed into the mall where the salon is, feeling late. She was walking towards me in her black coat in her black boots holding her black handbag. I say, "Mom, sorry I'm late, were you waiting long?" "No, not long, 5 minutes maybe..." We walk out to the car. As I pull away, Mom says, "I saw a man who looked just like your Dad...I thought it was Gordon for a moment." My heart tightens. This isn't the first time she's said that. While I would never presume to know the depth she feels, I imagine it a bit remembering a time in my own life that someone I held dear left me, and the pain was horrific. That pain pails in comparison to hers. From age 16 to almost age 80, Dad was a constant in her life. "I dream about him," she says between sobs. "I have nothing to live for..." What can I say? There is nothing to say. I try and honor her feelings, and be there for her; that is enough.