Till roses lose their petals,
Till the heather has lost its dew,
Till the end of time, little Mother,
We will remember you.
Hard to believe it’s already been a year. They really do fly by as you get older, and not necessarily because you’re having fun.
Looking for something to post in my online journal about it, I started flipping through old handwritten journals for a letter from Grandma. Thought I could scan it for an entry. Didn’t find one (though there must be many), but did end up reading my own journal entries and letters for the months before Mom died and the time of her death. Now am feeling wrung out.
Must go somewhere, out in the sunshine, maybe go see my sister at her new house.