Shadows settle on the place that you left, Our minds are troubled by the emptiness

Who knows why we are attracted to the things we are while grieving, but then I seem to find my mother most in photos from an era of her I never knew. Perhaps it's when I can see most see my current face in hers, activating something inside me that goes beyond our DNA.

It's especially palpable this time of year because...? The anniversary of her diagnosis? The melancholy of summer's own long goodbye? I really don't know. But I find the salve that only looking backward can provide when I see my mom existing in these photos, Smiling, young, holding secrets in her eyes only she will know.

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