My mom made the best candy. She made peanut patties and fudge and cookies and puppy chow and brittles and breads and pies and pastries, and other things I can't even remember now. I was very picky as a child, and I probably missed out on a lot.
I worry about missing out on things all the time. I think I know why, but that's a thought for another day.
Today is my mom's birthday! I miss her so much, and I know I'm not the only one. She was one of those incredibly special people who just had a way of truly caring about and endearing herself to everyone she befriended. Deeply kind and patient, and talented at every task to which she set her hands, she was an amazing person. They say you can tell how a person was by how many people attend her funeral, and mom packed the house. It was full of people who had known her at all stages of her life, some of whom had driven helluva far to be there. Nearly everyone who shook my hand in comfort told me something about how special Jon was, or how she'd touched their lives.
I wasn't surprised. After all, I grew up watching her, hoping I'd make it to adulthood with half of her talents and class.
Here's to you, mom. May the beautiful lands you now roam inspire and enrich you eternally.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
At times like these...
...all you can do is laugh. We've said it for years, J and I, and it always makes us laugh (however bitterly) through our tears.
There's something funny about everything. The darkest, most hopeless times; the times when I wasn't sure I wanted to stick around for MORE times...there was still always something funny, if one was able to laugh at one's own pain.
The jokes here are easy. I find them everywhere, little blood-red flowers of mirth dotting the ruins I feel like. It isn't that they're brave, or defiant. They don't stand against the chaos. They're just there, unapologetically, but with a sympathetic little smile.
As if to say, "Times like these..."
It isn't good. It's as bad as "who is John Galt?", but it gets you through the very roughest parts. I'll figure out what I should focus on soon. When I can face what's left of my dreams I'll sort through them and see what I can salvage.
All you can do is laugh, right?
There's something funny about everything. The darkest, most hopeless times; the times when I wasn't sure I wanted to stick around for MORE times...there was still always something funny, if one was able to laugh at one's own pain.
The jokes here are easy. I find them everywhere, little blood-red flowers of mirth dotting the ruins I feel like. It isn't that they're brave, or defiant. They don't stand against the chaos. They're just there, unapologetically, but with a sympathetic little smile.
As if to say, "Times like these..."
It isn't good. It's as bad as "who is John Galt?", but it gets you through the very roughest parts. I'll figure out what I should focus on soon. When I can face what's left of my dreams I'll sort through them and see what I can salvage.
All you can do is laugh, right?
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