Peace Pilgrims

February 12, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Several years ago, I seriously considered doing an epic walk — hike one of the long trails like the Pacific Crest Trail, trek along the Pacific coast, or walk across the United States. I was just starting to come out of my deep grief after Jeff died, and I wanted to find a deeper connection to both myself and the world, maybe even go through some sort of spiritual transformation. When I mentioned this desire to a friend, she suggested that I walk for a cause like the Peace Pilgrim did because if I had a cause, people would be more willing to help supply food, water, a shower or even transportation if I need it, and they might even get others to help. I never did find a cause, nor, despite training for it, was I ever able to do that epic walk. Instead, I took hundreds of day hikes, an overnight hike, and finally a 12,000, 21-week cross-country road trip, camping and hiking when I could, staying with friends or even treating myself to a motel when I wanted to or needed to.

As epic as that trip was, it was not what I’d originally envisioned, which was something akin to what the Peace Pilgrim did. The Peace Pilgrim was a woman who, in response to a spiritual awakening, had taken a vow to “remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace, walking until given shelter and fasting until given food.” Her pilgrimage began in 1953 when she was 44 and ended with her death in 1981. She carried only a pen, a comb, a toothbrush, and a map, trusting to those she met to supply what she needed, though she never asked for anything.

I admired her zeal and wished I could do the same, but I didn’t have that sort of trust. Still don’t. Nor do I have the physical ability for such an endeavor. I am on a different mission now, if such a solemn word can describe what I am living for — a peaceful life, taking care of myself, maybe even that deeper connection to myself and the world I once envisioned. Still, that old dream of a life-changing walk haunts me, which is one reason I was so fascinated by the monks and their walk for peace.

As with so many of my posts, the first few paragraphs usually serve only as background to a point I’d like to make, which is the uncanny connections between the Peace Pilgrim and the leader of the Walk for Peace.

She died in 1981. He supposedly was born in 1981. She started her walking mission when she was 44. He is said to be 44. They both experienced a spiritual awakening that took them from their mundane lives to one of spirituality, service, and inner peace. During both of their walks, they depended on others for food and shelter, accepting what is offered, asking for nothing. I’m not suggesting anything here, just making the observation that the second walk seems to be a continuation of the first. “Seems to be” being the operative words, since there really is no connection except for a few interesting coincidences.

Is there something bizarre about my sitting home, in my comfortable life, admiring (and I admit, envying at least a tad) those who willingly suffer the indignities of the road in the name of peace? If so, I am okay with that. I’m just glad someone is doing what I never could. And glad I got to participate in the Walk for Peace, if only vicariously.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in Adventure, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , . 1 Comment »

Dreaming up a Home

February 11, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Write about your dream home.
View all responses

I’m sitting here with a smile on my face, thinking about my dream home. For me, my dream home isn’t a fantasy, it’s a reality. It’s the very house I am now sitting in. What makes it a dream home is that I dreamed it up.

Years ago, I went through a huge change in my life. My life mate/soul mate of thirty-four years, Jeff, died, leaving me stranded here in this world without a home (he was my home) and with a single responsibility left to me — to go and help care for my aged father. I also was left with a sense that somewhere after the dark present, there would be a brighter future for me. During those long years of grief, I held to that thought. After my father died, I was adrift again, becoming a serial nomad — renting rooms and taking long trips.

I never thought of owning a house. It seemed too far from reality to even dream of it — just the thought of the upkeep seemed burdensome to say nothing of all the financial obligations a house engendered.

I spent years trying to figure out what to do, then when a relative suggested buying a house, it hit a chord. I had a bit of savings, but nowhere near enough to buy a house, or so I thought. Except, there was one corner of the world where house costs were still unbelievably low. I visited the area, and it was okay — way out on the plains, far from any major city, but I didn’t care. I just needed a place to live out my years.

A realtor took me around, and though I didn’t find a house I liked or could afford or that was still on the market a day or two after it was listed, I made friends with the real estate agent. Then I went home, thought about all I’d seen, and I dreamed.

I dreamed of a house with a new galley kitchen, a bathroom that would still be accessible no matter what old age brought, a living room with lots of screened windows,

an office with a day bed for reading and working/playing on the computer. Oh, I dreamed and dreamed, dreaming every single detail of what I would like into existence.

Then one day I got an email from Zillow though I’d never signed into that real estate site and certainly never signed up for emails. The email showed a simple house and said I might like it. I checked out the photos of the inside and gasped in disbelief. There it was — exactly what I’d dreamed up.

It wasn’t so much the looks of the house that got to me but the inside since I live in rooms and don’t spend a lot of time looking at the outside of where I live. I immediately called the realtor. She went to look at it, told me what she found, arranged for an inspector, and when I asked her to arrange the sale, she panicked and had me sign an affidavit that it was my choice to buy the house unseen. But I knew it would work out okay. After all, it was my house.

Three things were not in the dream — 1) the town itself because at that point I didn’t really care where I lived, I just wanted not to have to worry; 2) friends because I moved for the house and my future; the friends I’ve made have been a true blessing; 3) a landscaped yard because I didn’t want to have to take care of a lawn or a garden, and yet, over the years, I’ve created a beautiful outdoor space for myself.

So here I am, sixteen years after Jeff’s death, seven years after the Zillow email, living in that brighter future I’d believed would come. Living in the very house I dreamed up.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in dealing with old age, gardening, grief, home, life. Tags: , , , , . 13 Comments »

Strange Thoughts

February 10, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I just had a strange thought. There is a great assumption of hate here in this country, but is there really that much hate? If people didn’t keep telling us folks here in the USA to get rid of our hate, would there be any hate amongst us? Would we even think about hate or hating if they didn’t keep pushing that narrative? They tell us that love is stronger than hate, but isn’t even that trite comment making an assumption of hate? (Otherwise, why would anyone think the comparison needs to be made? Saying “Love is strong” would be fine by itself.) Even I, who have no hate in my heart at all (that I know of, anyway), find myself nodding along when people talk about the prevalence of hate. And yet, it seems as if the only people talking about hate are those who have a platform and are determined to have their say, as if they are the arbiter of morality. As if those who are sitting in their gated mansions know the pulse of the rest of us.

But then, today, it’s not just celebrities — athletes, singers, actors, newscasters — with a platform, but anyone who has a phone and some sort of social media account. And the videos that get shown everywhere are people screaming out their anger and hatred. Paradoxically, the screamers don’t think it’s hatred they are spewing; they think it’s . . . I don’t know; some sort of relevancy, perhaps.

The rest of us are going about our lives . . . not hating. Not even thinking about hate. Just living. Being. Enjoying what the day brings — for me, a couple of days ago, it was lunch and grocery shopping with one friend, an easy walk with another, and lots of sunshine. Yesterday it was watering my lawn, enjoying the last warm day before the cold strikes again. And today, well, today has just started. But it will be a peaceful day for me whatever I decide to do.

I’m aware this isn’t any great insight, just a stray thought.

Another stray thought (though this isn’t as “stray” as the first since it obviously came from somewhere, which is the monks walking for peace). There are millions of people all over the world (93 countries, including the USA) watching videos of the walk. The videos show the monks walking, but they also show the people who are witnessing the walk. People of all ages and colors and abilities coming together to participate in a once-in-a-lifetime transformative experience. The vast majority of the hundreds of thousands of people who pause their lives to watch the monks pass or gather to hear them talk, are quiet, respectful, loving and kind. Will people from all those countries see Americans any differently after this? Will they see we are not the hateful folk we are portrayed to be? Or will we all still be affected by the “hate/not hate” rhetoric that so often passes as truth?

Strange thoughts, indeed.

(I hope I’m not breaking any copyright laws by posting the following photo of all the places where people who are following the walk for peace live, but I find it fascinating and wanted to share it.)

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, culture, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 2 Comments »

Splurging and Treating Myself

February 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram

My financial advisor suggested that I splurge and treat myself. “Financial advisor” is how I sometimes jokingly refer to my sibling who helps me navigate various “grown-up” activities, such as buying a house. Despite the facetious title, his being an advisor on financial matters isn’t a joke. Without him, I would have been at a loss as to find a house let alone buy it. I wouldn’t have had any furniture. And I especially wouldn’t have a clue how to do any of the various chores necessary to keep up the house.

My advisor knows what a tight budget I am on, so his “treat suggestion” came as a bit of a surprise. Still, it’s not a bad idea, perhaps even good for my morale. Many women seem to find satisfaction in treating themselves to a new pair of “cute” shoes, but that whole “cute shoe” gene seems to have passed me by. I do have a few pairs of shoes, all comfortable utilitarian types, such as walking shoes or hiking boots, or slip-ons to wear to go out and check the mail. I even have a couple of pairs of black sneakers (for lack of a better term) that I can use if I want to appear less casual. Whenever I get a ride to a big city, I make sure to stop by a sporting goods store to stock up on a couple more pairs of cheap shoes because I never know when I’ll get another opportunity to shop. It’s a good thing, too. When I get home and actually wear the shoes, sometimes they are too big, in which case I set them aside for gardening shoes. Or they’re too small, in which case I only wear them when I drive to do errands. Those that are “just right” I put in my shoe rotation. (I find it’s easier on my feet if I don’t wear the same pair of shoes all the time.)

But a new pair of basic running around shoes is neither a splurge or a treat. It’s more a matter of opportunity.

My diet is fairly basic, mostly real foods, though I do occasionally go to lunch with a friend, which is a treat but not a splurge. It’s more of a necessity, both the company and a meal that is different from what I normally eat. And anyway, it’s in my budget.

If I could find books for my personal library that I would like to read and reread, I’d snap them up in a second (budget or no budget!), but most books aren’t worth reading once let alone twice, and any book that I don’t plan on reading (or reading again) becomes . . . clutter.

I don’t wear all the clothes I have now, so getting something new wouldn’t really be a treat. Mostly I wear old things around the house, depending more on comfort and warmth (or coolth in the summer) than fashion. I don’t even feel bad about not looking my best because I don’t look at myself — I look at what I’m doing. If I go out somewhere, errands or to that occasional lunch, I wear something nice, and I have plenty of “something nice” to wear. Besides, whatever I wear is covered by a coat for half the year, so it doesn’t really matter.

I used to splurge on hats, but I’ve reached a critical mass on headgear. I certainly don’t need more hats!

I have plenty of kitchenware, all the furniture I want, all the . . . I guess, for the most part, I have everything I want. I am by myself and don’t wear things out very quickly. The only thing I might have to get one of these days is a new computer. Although it still seems to me to be rather new, at a little more than seven years, it’s old in computer terms. But that won’t be a splurge. It’s already budgeted for.

Come late spring, of course, I will splurge, might even treat myself to a few expensive plants that I might not otherwise have bothered with, but planting season is still months away.

Until then . . . I don’t know. I suppose it’s a treat thinking about something to splurge on, but for now I’ll stick to my frugal ways.

What would you splurge on?

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, house, life. Tags: , , , , , . 8 Comments »

Choosing Peace

February 8, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Dean Koontz often used a dog as a major character in his books, whether as a naturally superior intelligence, an enhanced intelligence, an alien from another planet, or even as an angel. Those books were not among my favorites because I couldn’t really relate to those dog characters. Although I seldom admit it, because in today’s world not being a dog afficionado is almost a sacrilege, I don’t connect to animals the way other people do. Of course, I don’t connect to many humans, either, but that’s beside the point.

As I’ve been watching dozens and dozens of video clips of the monks on their walk for peace, accompanied by their dog Aloka, I can’t help but think of Koontz. Although his dog characters are always golden retrievers and Aloka is an Indian Pariah dog, a street dog from India, I see a strong correlation between Koontz’s almost-an-angel dogs and Aloka.

In his own way, it seems, Aloka is bringing peace to the multitudes that pause in the strife of their daily lives to watch the monks and their dog pass by. The dog seems as happy and as calm and as peaceful as his companions, just going about his day walking, being mindful of his surroundings. What’s interesting to me, and what is so Koontz-y is that Aloka chose the monks. He started following them in 2022 during a 100+ day peace walk in India. Many other dogs also followed, but Aloka stayed, a quiet companion to the walkers, as if he knew what they were about and wanted to be a part of it.

When the monks decided to make their next walk here in the United States, they brought Aloka with them. And together, they fulfill their mission. No big pronouncements. No noise. Just walk. Be present. Be at peace. Aloka seems to have an additional job or two, showing absolute loyalty, and even though he is recovering from a January surgery, he seems to still take his job as protectant seriously, staying focused and watching over the monks from a support vehicle.

Apparently, some people follow Aloka more than the monks, but that, too, seems part of this incredible journey.

I came late to the walk for peace because I don’t really like videos, and besides, the first videos I saw were of various preachers trying to convert the monks, which seemed . . . inappropriate. But now I’m as mesmerized as everyone else.

Until I gave up consistent blogging, I used to participate in a blog-for-peace project every November 4th. Although I didn’t believe world peace was possible (because whatever the world leaders say, they really don’t want it), I thought it was important to stress that peace starts with us. The monks’ walk (and Aloka’s) reminds me so much of what the peace bloggers wanted — just to show that peace is possible.

And apparently, peace is possible. It is all in our minds, especially when we live in the present moment. Like Aloka, we just have to choose it. My wish for us is the same one the monks have left for us: “May we all find our way back to the present moment.”

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in culture, history/myth, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , . Leave a Comment »

Balance

February 7, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I got caught in a time warp where I watched videos of the Buddhists walking for peace. I call it a time warp because I thought I was online for just a few minutes, but when I finally looked away, hours had passed, and I had tears in my eyes. The scenes were that mesmerizing and that touching — not just the serene marchers in their distinctive clothing treading on matching flower petals, but the hundreds of thousands of people silently watching them pass by or joining their walk for a while. Oh, there were those who didn’t appreciate what they were seeing and wanted to divert the walkers from their “satanic” path, but from the vast majority, there emanated a feeling of awe, perhaps reverence. A sense of history being made. Even from those who went to see the walkers simply out of curiosity, there was still a great deal of respect for the monks.

It was such a huge disconnect for me because what I’d been seeing online was something completely different. Chaos, screaming, hatred. Crowds that were anything but respectful. In that hostile environment, peace seemed a thousand miles away. Um no. Not seemed. It was literally a thousand miles away since the Buddhists were walking a thousand miles to the south of the chaos.

As I was thinking about these two events, all of a sudden, I didn’t see them as disconnected but as two parts of a balanced whole. This amused me — not the events, of course, but my idea of a balanced whole. Apparently, I’ve spent too much time in the dual cosmology of the Wheel of Time world, where opposing forces work against each other and with each other to create a balance in the world. Light and dark, male and female, good and evil, yin and yang. (It’s no wonder that when these books were made into a television series, the creators of the show changed Jordan’s world to erase the duality, which, considering today’s flexible morality, they ostensibly thought a weakness of the story rather than its very foundation.)

It also showed me something else. In the books, it seems as if “walking in the light” is the default setting; one must expressly go against the light to choose the darkness. Going by the numbers of people I’ve been seeing in the southern videos, it seems as if the default setting in this country is peace, or at least a desire for peace. Lawfulness. A need to get along without major confrontation. Maybe even a need to share something spectacular with one another. (Come to think of it, I’ve always thought peacefulness was our default setting. For example, while some people fudge on traffic laws, most people do follow close enough to the law that traffic flows smoothly without chaos, and the vast majority of drivers arrive at their destination safely. And though it’s long forgotten, the citizens of this country had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the world confrontations the leaders of the first half of the twentieth century got us into.)

Lately, I’ve had to fight a sense of sadness that borders on doom, as if we’re balancing on the brink of . . . something. It’s possible this is a result of my Seasonal Affective Disorder or even my sinus issues (allergies always make me depressed, but not as depressed as allergy medications), but seeing those beautiful monks? Well, to be honest, that made me sad, too, but in a different way, as if the peace they engendered is what life should always be but isn’t.

Still, for today, it was nice to participate in their walk — and its meaning — if only vicariously.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in culture, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments »

Holding the World Together

February 6, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
The most important invention in your lifetime is…
View all responses

The most important invention in my lifetime? That would be easy if it weren’t a toss-up between duct tape and twist ties. Still, together they make up the most important invention because between the two of them, you can fix just about anything.

A broken tool handle? Duct tape! A hose that’s sprung a leak? Duct tape! A quick fly trap? Duct tape! Blisters when hiking? Duct tape! A tear in your slippers? Duct tape! No packing tape? Duct tape!

I am using the name “duct tape” here, which is supposedly the correct term, though one use for duct tape that is not recommended is sealing ducts since the adhesive can come loose with heat. The name by all rights should be “duck tape” since the original cloth-backed tape was made with duck fabric — a heavy-duty cotton cloth. Either way, duct tape or duck tape, that ubiquitous product has many uses. People used it in crafts so often that now it comes in a multitude of colors or patterns. But I stick with the gray. It’s easy to use and so cheap I can keep one roll in the house and one in the garage.

As for twist ties? Again, a multitude of uses.

Need to stake plants? Twist ties! Electric cords a mess? Twist ties! Zipper pull broken off? Twist ties! Not enough tree ornament hangers? Twist ties! Cables and charger cords unorganized? Twist ties! No binder for loose leaf paper? Twist ties! Twist ties tangled? Twist ties!

I’m sure there are plenty of important inventions in my life time, but these are the two holding the world together.

Oops. I did a bit of research and discovered that both were invented earlier than I thought, though the form of those inventions we use today was developed during my lifetime

Duck tape (the original tape using army-green duck fabric) was invented during World War Two as a way of sealing ammunition boxes to prevent moisture. However, in my lifetime, the green duck became the grey duct that we are all so familiar with.

Twist ties — paper-wrapped wire pieces — were invented in the 1920s and patented in the 1930s, but it wasn’t until the 1960s that a specific twist-tie machine was invented to create the better design that we use today.

Still, whatever their history, I stand by my premise that without these two inventions, our world would fall apart.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in culture, history/myth, How to, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 12 Comments »

My Every Day

February 5, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.
View all responses

My most ideal day? Well, that’s simple enough to describe — it’s pretty much my every day so far this year:

Get up. Do stretching exercises. Make the bed. Have a cup of tea. Play a bit of a hidden object game. Write a blog post. Read. Have breakfast. Read. Have lunch. Read. Take a short walk. Read. Rest a bit. Read. Have a quick snack. Read. Check online to see what if anything is going on with my blog. Read. Read some more until it’s time to go to bed, then read until lights out.

Well, that’s my every day except for the walk. I keep trying to get back into walking every day, but I can’t seem to always find the energy. Of course, in an ideal day, I’d have plenty of energy, no sinus issues, and the get up and go to just get up and go. Sometimes, of course, my ideal day involves a visit with a friend or neighbor or whoever else I might encounter during the walk, but apparently not today.

I used to play the hidden object game a lot more until much of that online time got supplanted by blogging. Odd how that happened. I never actually decided to start posting every day as I used to. I just . . . did.

I must admit, blogging does help make my day an ideal one. It feels like coming home, in a way, a comfortable way to spend time, a pleasant way to communicate without having people cut me off while I am speaking if they disagree. (You might cut me off and stop reading, but since I’d never know, it’s not hurtful.) It also gives me something to think about other than the state of the world and the lack of common sense (though why something that’s in such short supply is called “common,” I don’t know, and neither does anyone else, apparently, since this is a sentiment I encounter so often that it’s embarrassingly trite). Best of all, blogging allows me to play with words, like above when I wrote “the get up and go to just get up and go.” I tend to be too serious, so word play lets me indulge my fantasy that I’m witty and charming and lighthearted. (And no, that fantasy is not part of my ideal day since ideally, I need to be what I am, whatever that might be.)

Well, this part of my ideal day has been fulfilled. Now on the next part: Reading!!

(I couldn’t find a photo of myself reading, so here is the next best thing: my 97-year-old father reading one of my books during his last days.)

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in blogging, books, life, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Grateful

February 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
View all responses

I’ve experienced many significant life events and life-changing experiences that influenced my perspective on life, but I don’t have any interest in rehashing any those past traumas. Nor do I have any present traumas to talk about since, luckily, I’m going through a rather static time right now. No major life experiences. I am still enamored with the experience of owning my own home and landscaping the yard, but that’s become simply my life.

What does affect me, and does more every day, is the passage of time. I’ve reached the age of no return — my body no longer heals itself quickly, and so small infirmities will begin to add up leading inevitably to a frailer old age than I might have envisioned. If I’m careful, I might not become as frail as I fear, so that’s the big way that time influences my perspective on life now —carefulness. Mindfulness.

Mindfulness is not some sort of esoteric practice, but a very practical way of approaching the end of the road — being careful. I used to move quickly, but now I move deliberately, mindful of where I place my feet. Too many older people have lost their independence because of a fall, and I’ve already destroyed enough of my body by falling (fake elbow, multiple pins in my wrist and forearm). I tend to think I’m still too young to have to worry about losing my independence, but things can happen in an instance, and I am not taking a chance. At least I’m trying not to.

I take care of myself as best as I can, though I admit, it’s not as good a job as I did when I was younger. I might also be coddling myself more than I should, using any small malady as an excuse not to exercise, but maybe coddling is a necessary a part of taking care of oneself.

I also do things like find chores in the kitchen while I’m cooking so that I don’t get distracted and walk away from a potential hazard. And I pay attention to the sort of accidents that happen when people get older so that I can protect myself, if at all possible, from that happening to me. (Not that we can protect ourselves from everything, but being careful means at least trying.)

Mostly, I’m grateful. Grateful for everything I can do. Grateful for every day I wake up. Grateful for every pain-free moment. Grateful I can still read and understand what I’m reading. Grateful I can still eat what I like. Grateful for the friends I have and the companionship they give me.

Just . . . grateful.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 7 Comments »

A Big To-Do About What To Do

February 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
View all responses

Nothing on my to-do list ever gets done for the simple reason that I don’t have a to-do list. If I did have a to-do list, the first thing on the list would be to make a to-do list, which I would not do, so again, the answer would be that nothing on my to-do list ever gets done.

I’m of the firm belief that what doesn’t need to be done today should be put off until tomorrow. And if there is something that needs to be done today? I do it. Simple. If I know ahead of time I will need to do something today (because each day I kept putting it off until tomorrow, and tomorrow finally came), I put a reminder on my calendar. For example, this was the last day to pay my car insurance, which I know because it’s on my calendar, so I did it. But I remembered anyway, so the reminder was simply insurance insurance. (If that doesn’t make sense, no problem; I often try to be clever and only end up being too clever for my own good.) I occasionally leave myself a sticky note to remind me of something I need to remember to do, such as letting a faucet drip during our below freezing nights. I suppose each of those sticky notes could be construed as a list, but a list with a single reminder isn’t much of a list.

I come by leaving myself occasional notes honestly. My father always did it, though my mother never did. In fact, she was a bit bemused by his reminders. She often told the story of coming across a note he wrote before they were married reminding him to marry her. “Would you really have forgotten to marry me?” she supposedly asked. And his answer, “No, but I didn’t want to take a chance.”

The note apparently worked because they did get married. They celebrated their sixtieth anniversary a couple of months before my mother died. The January before their September anniversary, doctors diagnosed my mother with cancer and told her she had three to six months to live. She told them that wasn’t good enough. She needed nine months. The anniversary was that important to her, and she did make it. (The photo accompanying this article is one taken of all us women at the get-together.)

I think I’m getting off the track here. But really, what is there to say about a to-do list that doesn’t list anything to do?

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in life. Tags: , , , , , , , , , . 9 Comments »
« Older posts