And After My Mother's Death

Much Of Hamlet Is About The Precise Kind Of Slippage The Mourner Experiences: The Difference Between Being And Seeming, The Uncertainty About How The Inner Translates Into The Outer, The Sense That One Is Expected To Perform Grief Palatably. (if You Don’t Seem Sad, People Worry; But If You Are Grief-stricken, People Flinch Away From Your Pain.)

I Think About My Mother Every Day. But Usually The Thoughts Are Fleeting - She Crosses My Mind Like A Spring Cardinal That Flies Past The Edge Of Your Eye: Startling, Luminous, Lovely... Gone.

Many Americans Don't Mourn In Public Anymore - We Don't Wear Black, We Don't Beat Our Chests And Wail.

The Truth Is, I Need To Experience My Mother's Presence In The World Around Me And Not Just In My Head.

A Mother, After All, Is Your Entry Into The World. She Is The Shell In Which You Divide And Become A Life. Waking Up In A World Without Her Is Like Waking Up In A World Without Sky: Unimaginable.