Hard to be cheery when you’re grieving. but what better way to heal, acting as if until you are.
The little girls of the family renting my late friend Mimi’s apartment, made me roses out of pink Kleenex, their stems with bobby pins.
We love you, we love Mimi, their card said, though they had never met her.
We bought balloons that Frank the super blew up we let go shouting, bye Mimi, have a nice trip. How she would have loved the innocence of these children, taught, this is the best way to say good-bye to a friend.
I read some Anne Lamott, always good for a giggle with a little gospel tossed in, a king size box of Oreos on my nightstand with a silo of milk to dunk them in.
Simple pleasures, creature comforts, thoughts that warm will see us through.
We’re designed to recover, one off our best features, since when we least expect it, sadness recycles into a tender tap on the shoulder.
I’ll see a woman in a bright, snappy suit imagining Mimi tooling down the street, or hydrangeas, her favorite bloom, will appear, waving as they bounce by.
A robin will sunbathe on my window sill reminding me when Mimi fed a baby fallen from its nest with an eye dropper, while someone lets me go first in a check-out line teasing, is that all you’re having for dinner?
I’ll think, Mimi, is that you?
The goodness of our dearly departed lingers, as a lofty, lasting legacy.
You just need to be on the look-out is all.