wild, sad, and serious

I thought I'd come to the idea that walking would help me dull my pain on my own... I realize now it may have come from Cheryl Strayed's Wild, which I devoured in a single afternoon one summer. Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail is her formula for dealing with mother-loss and grief.

I should be sadder. I would be if I didn't keep forgetting that it really happened. Every time I remember, it still feels unreal. It was mom's "Boss Day" yesterday, and I could barely get through it. It felt real again and again because I couldn't call her.

I'm so relieved that there is some semblance of a ceasefire in Gaza (Doctors Without Borders reported they're still hearing bombing). Amidst the hope for healing, I keep thinking about the the nearly 60,000 children who have lost parents and how it must feel to experience that loss so violently and so young.

At stopped by--it was SLE's birthday and At needed her mom. I suggested we celebrate SLE and we talked so much about SLE we both had a good cry... and then we went to the temple with an offering of fruit, flowers, and silks just for something formal to do. At had been disinvited to the funeral by SLE's family, so I keep suggesting At and her friends need to do something to honor SLE in a way she would have enjoyed. (I know so many rites now since Amma's funeral.)

Pic: Why so serious, sweet Max? (Because Dad made him wear his glasses.)