Woe is NOT me.

I went to another funeral last night.

Yes, another funeral. Don't mean to sound banal; actually, the opposite. There have just been too many.

Since last summer, I've now been to ten funerals. Ten funerals. Isn't that crazy? Was joking to a friend last night that I have "funeral pants," reserved for these sad occasions. I did not personally know the man who died (besides a "hello" and a smile at community events) but his family came to my mother's and my aunt's funerals last year, and that meant a lot to me and my family.

I know that death is a very normal and natural part of the life cycle. All these funerals I've been to have made me realize that all the more... but I still cannot quite get used to the fact my mother is physically gone. Everyone who has lost someone goes through this, I'm sure, but at times I wonder if I just have to let go; there's that lingering fear that somehow letting go means I've forgotten about her or I'm moving on and leaving her behind. I have to remind myself that she is with me and that she wants me to move on and be happy ... but man, is it hard.

And yet, as I've said before, I feel like a contented person. Happy? At times, yes, but I think content is a better word for me. I don't mean to sound all "Oh woe is me..." because I am not. I'm just a dweller and bit of a wallower. I don't know if that's much better.

Here is a photo of my mom, the animal lover; even my niece's snake got loving from my mom :)