May Day, a date that suggests sunshine and warm weather and flowers. You wouldn't know that to look out my office window at the snow-coated fields.
My clearest thoughts about Jolene today said, "It's now the month after the month after Jolene died." Life moves on.
I scheduled a book signing for my mystery, Gunfight at Grace Gulch, at my church on May 18th. It was the most convenient date, between Mother's Day and Memorial Day weekend. Only yesterday did the significance register. Two months plus one day from the official date of Jolene's death. I'm sure the date will bear down on me as it approaches, but I take the act as progress. I scheduled the event without making the automatic association.
We've missed two weeks of Sunday school. People are calling Mom, concerned. We explain, "We had to take Jaran back to the airport."
"You're doing okay, then." They've done their duty; Mom is in good health, not hospitalized or otherwise in need of succor. They appear anxious to get off the phone.
Mom wants to talk. We're both still lonely, still saddened with unbearable grief. Yesterday I described the manner of Jolene's death as a scratch to my soul. It's an irritant, a fact that rubs my feelings raw. Mom described it as piercing. A single, sharp stab shattered her peace.
It's going on two months. The rest of the world has gone ahead, Jolene's death a sad footnote.
For us, we're still treading water.