On Loss and Change.

My daughter’s mother died last night. Given that any affection disappeared decades ago, and that I haven’t seen her even in passing for several years, I wonder why it should be troubling me so much. I’ve spent much of today trying to work it out.

There’s my concern for my daughter, of course. She was emotionally very close to her mother and she’s an emotional person. And yet it isn’t quite enough. I’ve come to some tentative theories, but I won’t bother boring the blog by enumerating them.

We’ve also had more thunderstorms today. It’s unusual to get so many of them on consecutive days. They usually come at the end of a hot, humid spell in July or August, and that’s often it for the year. And when I add my own woes and bleak prospects to the list, I can’t help suspecting that some unidentifiable storm of cosmic proportions is stirring up the game of life everywhere, forcing change and reconstruction at many levels.

But then I always did have a fanciful streak which feels compelled to look beneath the surface of pragmatic reality in the expectation of finding wraiths of one sort or another.