The day was sunny and hot yet a slight breeze cooled us as we gathered beneath some grand old oak trees in the cemetery that had been the site of my father’s grave for almost 60 years. Our Hospice chaplain was reading faith-filled passages from the Bible and recounting sweet memories of his visits with our mother during her last few months of life. Some might expect that my tension would have lessened since my Care Bear duties were now over. Grief, though, has its own version of tension and I had my head bowed trying to relax before reading a tribute to my mom.
No matter how much we humans want to hang on to someone or something special, the time for letting go always makes itself known in some way. It had been 4 months since my mom had died. To honor my mother’s long-time wish for me to write a book, I had begun using my journal entries and writing a rough draft of what eventually became a memoir, ADVENTURES IN MOTHER-SITTING. It was January and Florida was having unusually cold weather. I had the sense that my old kitty, Sierra, was still hanging on with me, serving as an anchor to keep me more at home writing and typing. I was typing on the last chapter when Sierra let go of her tired, old body.