The joy of sadness

Weepy today. It’s the Wimbledon final, Federer versus Djokovic, and my mother and aunt should be watching. Avidly. I really don’t care about sports but I love federer, as Mum did. A great wave of anguish swept over me about the missing. Dad died in July, just after Wimbledon. He lay in the living room as Mum and Do watched. I miss them all today. I just called Una, one of Do’s best friends, to get caught up and reminisce. They’re playing Scrabble today as always. But two key players will not be there.

So, weepy. Not to mention the sudden need for a new computer, plus the estimate just received from the electrician- $1300 to wire my office. I had no idea this had not been done and would be needed.

First world problems. It’s a gorgeous day, fresh and bright, the raspberries are coming in, and I’m going across town soon to visit my boys. I’m even glad to be sad. It’s good to know that the living remember the dead. That the missing are stored forever in our hearts and minds. At least, until those of us who remember die too.

And now as the summer air wafts in with the scent of lavender, mint, and roses, time to weep some more.