Not being the perkiest of people in the morning, I've developed a well-worn routine to getting myself up and out of the house in the morning. This assures that I'm fed and I have clothes on my back before I join the rest of the happy commuters headed into Boston. Part of the routine is eating my breakfast while checking email and looking around on-line for any things that might come out to bite me when I arrive at work.
Yesterday morning I had a browser up and was starting to type something into the addressbar when Firefox gave me a selection of possibles as it does, and the top of the list was the obituary of Lydia Touloumtzis, my foster mom. Late winter brings thoughts of Lydia for some reason - maybe because she was even more of a Yankee than I and she would have urged us on through the end of the New England winter and told us to stop whining. Lydia was always full of good advice.
So, in a moment of rememberance, I clicked on the obit links and there she was, smiling back at me from her 20's. And then I saw the fact that she died two years ago today. More than a little spooky.
It doesn't seem like she's been gone for two years. Her presence certainly hasn't been dimmed by this amount of time. Maybe she was just checking in via Facebook?
Our dead are always with us. I feel mine behind my right shoulder whenever I take the time to remember, the only thing our dead keep wanting from us, to remember them.
Your foster mother Lydia will always be with you, my friend.
Posted by: gmoke | March 04, 2014 at 07:02 PM