Mom

I miss my Mom and think about her often. I was just recalling how in the last few years of her life, one of Mom's greatest joys was Skyping with me. I tried to call her at least once a week and I always felt I could have visited her via Skype more than that. But I did my best. And she didn't complain but was always excited when I called to initiate a session. Mom appeared to me last night in the form a recurring dream. She was alive but very old and suffering from memory loss. We were with a group of people, perhaps at my parents' house in Athens, talking to her in an encouraging manner about how we had just wished her a happy birthday the previous week. I've had similar dreams where the old and feeble person was my father or my Grandfather Scott, always barely alive and in need of caregivers for the simplest of needs. There's happiness in the person being alive and an implied awareness of their death. This theme goes back at least a few years. Perhaps it reflects my awareness of the reality of aging, a process I see unfolding in my own life. My left hand, especially my left ring finger, has been suffering from continuous pain dating to when I visited David Stammer in Dallas and spent many hours in my hotel room practicing the guitar. Did I overexert in this practice? Do I need to take a break and let my finger and hand recover? I'm considering consulting Harold Brandt or his Nurse Practitioner, Hillary, about this and seeing what they say. My guitar skills, both mental and physical, continue to improve and I would hate to have arthritis truncate my progress, like the bed of Procrustes. My morale has been somewhat improved of late as I work diligently to pull the Athens High School Class of 70 Reunion Pre-Party together as the calendar closes in on the one month to go mark.

We don't know death, only the idea of death which, after all, is a part of life.