One year ago today, my mom died. It seems like a lot longer than that, so much so that I just looked at her death certificate to confirm it. In general, as I get older, my perception is that time passes more quickly. A year doesn't seem like a year. It seems shorter. So looking forward, anticipated dates come faster. "A month from now is Thanksgiving," and boom! Thanksgiving is here. I get that. But looking backward, why does a year ago seem like two? Shouldn't it seem compressed as well? Shouldn't it seem like mom died a few months ago? Or is there some weird paradoxical effect in play here?
What's the Kerouaconnection, you ask? Jack and his mom were very close, unhealthily so, some would say (he more or less lived with her his entire 47 years). So he would resonate with me reminiscing about mom one year after she died.
RIP, Elizabeth Wetmore Dale, b. 6/11/24 d. 10/23/09; daughter of Edson and Ruth; mother of James, William, and Richard; grandmother of Jason; wife of Hugh; Mansfield State College graduate; musician, teacher, homemaker, writer, friend . . . Mom.