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Little Kade and his new grandma

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We lucked out for the interments on Saturday, missing heavy downpours both before and after, and thankful for enough wind to keep the mosquito hordes from chasing us out of the cemetery. Afterwards we gathered for a cold lunch at Margo's seniors' club, appropriately called the Silver Threads, and later on, those of us who hadn't left for the city went out to Karen's for a few hours and to finish off the leftovers for supper.

I had been thinking that once we got through the first year of Mom's absence, it would become easier to accept. But it hasn't. Not one bit. As a matter of fact, I have been missing her more than ever in the weeks leading up to this third event on her behalf. As soon as I stop my voracious reading, thoughts of her are there. Maybe I've been trying to avoid them, with all this reading of murder mysteries lately. Anyway, no. I still feel SICK about it all.

Finally, after waiting a year, I did a meditation last week wherein I went to "the beach" where I'd always set healing visualizations for Mom while she was ill. For those of you who haven't done this kind of thing — it's like imagining — while Mom was sick I would imagine she and I together on my favourite beach, and warm rain washing all worry, fear, and poor health off of us. Then I'd wrap her in a fluffy blue blanket afterward.

About two weeks before she died, while I was doing this same meditation, a chariot pulled by a white horse had come out of the sky. Grandpa Benson, who has been dead for nine years, was in it, and I wrapped Mom in that blue blanket, helped her into the chariot, and away they went on a lovely ride through the sky.

This time, I imagined myself sat on that blue blanket on the beach alone, wondering if Mom would appear. Suddenly there she was beside me, looking young, healthy and happy. She was smiling, and I threw my arms around her joyfully and said "Do you have any idea how much I miss you?" Her answer was, "You shouldn't, you know, because I am with you very often."

And then we were joined on that beach by Aunt Jean, Aunt Margaret, Great-Grandma Bartley, and a whole bunch of people I assume must be relatives and ancestors.

As lovely as this "message" from Mom was, I came out of that meditation in tears and quickly pulled myself together for the imminent arrival of a friend for a tarot reading.

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I'm off to Margo to pick up Reta and Grandma, drive to Kelvington for Grandma's dentist appointment (she doesn't think her false teeth are loose, but the rest of us can see that they are), then a visit to my great-nephew and his momma.

Life goes on and changes.

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