September 13

I am home. My head and heart are still very full of the emotions of the past two weeks. I'm feeling quiet and fragile and reflective. All of which is fine.

I still haven't really cried, so I know that day is coming, and will no doubt slam me unexpectedly at an inopportune time. Which is also fine.

I found it interesting that I had no desire to chronicle the process of Mum's death, or of my time with my family in Australia. It was too raw, too private, for even my own journal. The memories will stay or go, as they will.

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
(Christina Rossetti -- Song)

Daily art updates to resume tomorrow. I hope.