Sometime back in early May, when the above photo was taken:
Usually when I go around the house warbling, Everett holds his ears, whines, or straight out asks me to PLEASE STOP! YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY! So on Sunday I was pleasantly surprised when, after I’d practised Everything’s Coming Up Roses about four times in a row, he said, “Beautiful voice, Mom.”

He must have been buttering me up for permission to make an ice cream float shortly after. He’s no dummy.

Not long afterward, when I was practising the scat-singing for Cheek to Cheek umpteen times, he came and sat next to me and sang along. He was right into it.

This morning, July 10, 2005
On July 7th, the day of Mom's memorial, it had been 40 days since she died. I stopped refilling the glass of water set on the windowsill, and will one of these days put on some earrings or a ring again.

I had decided I would come up with some other small ritual for remembering and honouring Mom each day. But what would it be? I was pondering this, driving through busy Kelowna traffic in June, when a song came on the radio. It was called The Mother Song and its melody was familiar to me, as was the chant, so I could easily remember it. Some of the words that were not chanting were You won't see me, you won't hear me, but you will never be alone.

Now, as soon as possible after getting up in the morning, I light a candle and sing a song. I have so far sung The Mother Song and Cheek to Cheek and O What a Beautiful Morning. It won't matter what I choose; if she can hear me, she will appreciate it; if she cannot, it will still do me good. There is nothing I can think of more fitting to honour and remember Mom than to sing for her, to her, as she loved to sing and she thought my voice was beautiful, just as I thought hers was.

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