May 9, 2002
It's coming up on a year... already a year since my father's death.
May 11, 2001. Before the 11th of the month was something to be feared.
Daddy was ahead of his time.
I'm feeling it - not sleeping well, all sorts of the usual psychosomatic stress symptoms.
Of course it was worse last year - I'm only feeling echoes now.
Last year Stephanie planted some perennials in her garden in memory of my father - I still can't really find the words to express how that touches me.
She recently sent me the first photos from this year's crop of bleeding hearts. (The peonies and rhododendrons are later-bloomers.)
So please bear with me - I should be back to my usual snarky self by sometime next week.
Graphics courtesy of