Thank you for sharing your thoughts, especially the difficulty of a parent's death. As I process my father's passing in January 2025, your words aid my journey.
This has made me think about my own parents' deaths and the strange dreams I had at that time. Lovely paragraph on your mother's 'child self just below the surface' and then that surface becoming bird-embryo translucent -- wonderful. it's nosey of me, but I want to know more about the dream notes.
I love the way you stretch out telling the dream by interrupting it with the trip. And I think you’re still holding your mother— in memory of course, but also in her art (always lovely!) and in your writing here. The dreams say, keep going— there’s more to say.
Oh that’s some lovely encouragement! I’m sometimes sheepish to keep hitting these themes. But, really, I tell myself there’s nothing new there: writers do obsess on themes. Thank you for this, Victoria.
Thank you, Eliza. Glad you and Kim were in Portugal. We have a Mimilittle watercolor of the beach in Portugal. Yellow umbrellas. Come and see us and you can visit it. Love you. Dorothy.
Again , gorgeous writing. Wished every family with broken marriages read your writings…so insightful about children trying to stay loyal to both parents forever torn over the balance!
Raw and powerful. I was there with my mother when she died. Looking back there are many things I wish I had done during the last few months, days and hours. We used feeling words very sparingly in my family. But I wish I had told her what a wonderful wife and mother she had been. I know she loved me and I loved her even without the words. Even though you weren't there at the end, she knew of your love.
I've only been to Portugal once, last year, but loved it. I can see why you chose to escape there.
Those dreams, Eliza. So profound. And I love what you say about your mother in her final year: "My mother carried her child self just below the surface, below what was blood and muscle for most of her life, but by 2020, her surface was sallow and translucent, the embryo of a bird hatched too soon."
I felt awful about the way my mum died, too. It was a sudden crisis and hospital admission. None of us could be there with her.
But like you, I find catharsis in the things she passed on, her letters, photographs, all the ephemera of her life.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, especially the difficulty of a parent's death. As I process my father's passing in January 2025, your words aid my journey.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Rebecca, and I’m glad my writing helps ♥️
This has made me think about my own parents' deaths and the strange dreams I had at that time. Lovely paragraph on your mother's 'child self just below the surface' and then that surface becoming bird-embryo translucent -- wonderful. it's nosey of me, but I want to know more about the dream notes.
Thank you, Lucy. That makes sense. I would want to know more, too, here (if I didn’t carry around too much of her already)
I love the way you stretch out telling the dream by interrupting it with the trip. And I think you’re still holding your mother— in memory of course, but also in her art (always lovely!) and in your writing here. The dreams say, keep going— there’s more to say.
Oh that’s some lovely encouragement! I’m sometimes sheepish to keep hitting these themes. But, really, I tell myself there’s nothing new there: writers do obsess on themes. Thank you for this, Victoria.
Thank you, Eliza. Glad you and Kim were in Portugal. We have a Mimilittle watercolor of the beach in Portugal. Yellow umbrellas. Come and see us and you can visit it. Love you. Dorothy.
That’s right! I remember.
Again , gorgeous writing. Wished every family with broken marriages read your writings…so insightful about children trying to stay loyal to both parents forever torn over the balance!
Thank you, Margery, for this understanding of what I’m up to here.
Raw and powerful. I was there with my mother when she died. Looking back there are many things I wish I had done during the last few months, days and hours. We used feeling words very sparingly in my family. But I wish I had told her what a wonderful wife and mother she had been. I know she loved me and I loved her even without the words. Even though you weren't there at the end, she knew of your love.
And we did talk to her on FaceTime. Still. It all clearly haunts me. Thanks for the note, Karen.
I've only been to Portugal once, last year, but loved it. I can see why you chose to escape there.
Those dreams, Eliza. So profound. And I love what you say about your mother in her final year: "My mother carried her child self just below the surface, below what was blood and muscle for most of her life, but by 2020, her surface was sallow and translucent, the embryo of a bird hatched too soon."
I felt awful about the way my mum died, too. It was a sudden crisis and hospital admission. None of us could be there with her.
But like you, I find catharsis in the things she passed on, her letters, photographs, all the ephemera of her life.
Thank you, Wendy, for this lovely comment. And I’m so sorry for how your mom passed. Truly.