As I work on the book with Dad, I am drenched in memories and find myself obsessively looking at photos of my mother.  She’s around 20 in the photos and just starting her adult life.

I am loving it, but it’s also overwhelming.  Knowing the path that lies ahead of her… Last night I walked in the rain and cried, allowing the grief to present itself.  I then let myself process it in my journal.  I did a quick interpretation of mom with china marker and acrylic on newsprint.  Then wrote on top and just let the words flow and the pain in the chest release.  Very therapeutic.

…  desperately seeking Karin.  Looking at old photos as I prepare our book and I am struck by mom’s beauty and innocence as she starts her life with dad.  I am struck by the knowledge I have, but she didn’t have then, of what lay ahead.  I am shattered by the thought that she would lose her mother when she was just age 28.  I can’t imagine.  She was a motherless daughter as she struggled through raising us.  But she loved so fiercely.  She lived.  She raised us as a mom should – with full bellies, clean clothes, tons of support and enthusiasm and safety,  With mom, I felt safe…

I’m not avoiding.  I’m dealing.  And loving the process.  And very grateful to Dad for his meticulous photo albums.