August 10, 2026 – 9 Years August is here. The time of year when the sun is hot and the air is sometimes so thick it’s hard to breathe. I can’t help but notice that the days are getting shorter, as the sun rises later than it has since the spring, and sets earlier than I would like. Back to school sales are already in full force as it’s only two weeks until the kids go back. The Halloween pop-up stores are opening. And, you know, it’s only a matter of a very short time before the Christmas decorations are up. The race to end summer is heating up. Speaking of heating up, this has been a particularly hot and humid summer, without much rain. My garden beds are thirsty. My potted plants have not been able to survive the heat of the unforgiving sun burning down on them no matter how much I water them. And don’t even talk about the grass… When I was a kid, I used to love the heat and humidity. Give me a canteen of cold water, a Sugar Daddy, an old coffee can with a string as a handle, and I would be out picking blueberries in the bogs by the railroad tracks for hours. Sun blazing. No shade. Never bothered by the heat. I basked in it. I just needed to be outside. Yeah, not so much anymore. As I’ve gotten older, too much sun drains me. Gives me a headache. Makes me actually put the air conditioner on high, even though I feel trapped in my house with the doors and windows closed, cold air blasting at me all day long, trying to keep the space cool. And there I sit, with a blanket on top of me to keep me warm. Sounds crazy? It is. And I totally despise it. Such is summer in Massachusetts. August has also become a time of sadness and grief for me for the past nine years. Today is the 9th anniversary of my Mom’s passing. I woke up, thought of her lovely smile, and ached to hug her. Last year was a tough year. This year, a bit easier. All around me, I feel her loving presence. When I bake a blueberry cake or sit at the piano and play and sing. When I play rummy with Doug. When I sip a cup of tea, I imagine her sitting across from me at the big kitchen table that graced our kitchen for 70 plus years. I feel her with me always. There is always going to be that sense of loss, no matter how close her spirit is to me. When you love someone as deeply as I loved my Mama, the loss is just as deep. The trick is to focus on the love, which never goes away. I know, I know. Neither does the grief, but the love and the grief seem to level out as time goes on. Maybe it’s because I am getting older, but for me, the precious relationships are never gone. I look for the signs that both she and my Dad send me. A sudden memory can spark laughter, love, sadness, or joy. Keeping those memories close to my soul also keeps my folks alive for me and sustains me when the grief decides to try to overwhelm me. And, as always, I love you and miss you and thank you for keeping me close to you in spirit. You guide me even as you love me from the other side. Until we meet again…

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