A month of Thursday's rather than the adage "a month of Sunday's" when speaking about time passing slowly. February 23rd, was the first Thursday after Mom died; then March 2nd, the second Thursday; March 9th, the third and today, it's been a month.
After someone dies, it feels as though the march of time shifts. Some days we walk more mindfully and other days roam about with little purpose or drive. It's been a month of tears and reminiscing and wondering. And acceptance. And learning to live in a world that's changed yet again.
I feel her presence in previously unexplored ways; while chopping veggies wearing her apron, when saying evening prayers, while gazing at my favorite photo of her smile glowing on a Hawaiian vacation.
What will it feel like when I have the courage to listen to Mom's last voice mail? We'll see.
Maybe next month.