Thursday, August 27, 2015
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Monday, August 24, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
I'm tired, my body's sore, and I've got a splitting headache - the latter is very unusual for me!
However, I'll show you the pictures I edited today. Next week you can find them on note cards, t-shirts, tote bags etc.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Here are some pictures from today at the market:
Hardly any customers came to my booth, and because of this fact I only made $25.00. Bloody hell!
It was also sad to see so many spots vacated by fellow vendors, my friends, people I had known for oiver a decade.
What will the future hold? Will people even come to the market when all of the crafters and artists have been pushed out by market management?
Friday, August 21, 2015
- Going to Mom's favourite restaurant at Harbour Front - too far away.
- Scanning slides of pictures of Mom - I had too many other things to do.
- Toasting to Mom's memory - check!
- Listening to Mom's favourite music - check!
- Starting a new painting of Mom - check!
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Go Your Own Way was the song that popped into my head immediately after my mother's death.
I told this to my counsellor today and explained that this upcominng Friday would mark the third anniversary of that fateful day.
I try my best to "go my own way" because I know that Mom would expect this of me. She would want me to continue on with my life, have a few adventures and some fun, and to be happy.
I'm trying, Mom, I really am. You'd be proud of me, I'm sure, knowing that I'm leading a busy and productive life. Of course I am, because I'm your daughter and you often bragged to people that you "were never bored!"
It's just this happiness thing that I'm having trouble with. I've been trying new things and some not so new things, looking for experiences that may make me happy and which will fill the void that your death has left in my life.
Don't get me wrong, I do have moiments of happiness, Mom. It's just that, many times, my happiness is tinged with sorrow.
I remember growing up, you would often told Bruce and I that "can't isn't in the dictionary", which was your way of telling us not to give up just because things seem too difficult to deal with. When the sorrow of missing you is overwhelming and I think I can't go on, I correct myself and think can't isn't in the dictionary!
I love you, Mom.