My mom passed away — ‘passed’ seems too specific and literal to another place, while adding ‘away’ is more what it feels like — July 28, 2001. Just before 9.11 and just before Charles’ brain surgery he’d been putting off due to mom’s illness taking twists and turns all that summer. A couple years earlier was another loss; sudden, sad, a large hole in the family… So: No More Mourning—if I held and noticed and photographed, and framed things that touched her body she would stay a little close. I do mean close, not: closer. Now, twelve years later these are still objects that have a voice, but mostly I notice my own hand. Older now but the gesture of holding is right. Holding still. Today I said GoodBye to a friend who is very very sick, he winked and gestured for a kiss. What else is there? Mourning, more, and I can’t resist to say now, this evening: Morning.
margo halverson 