never gets any easier
She would have been eighty-six, last Friday. I spent it sleep deprived and surrounded by friends, but sadness is patient.
It's her birthday that gets me. I never can remember the day she died. Don't much want to either.
Bottom center, there. White fur coat and black leather gloves.
She's on the left here -- right is Virma, who died a year or two ago.
It's her birthday that gets me. I never can remember the day she died. Don't much want to either.
Bottom center, there. White fur coat and black leather gloves.
She's on the left here -- right is Virma, who died a year or two ago.