Today was my first day at work, blog-free. Groan. Did it mean I didn’t check out my non-blogspot companions? Um, no. Everything in moderation.
I’ve been in contact with Outfront, a GLBT organization in Minnesota that keeps up on legislative issues. They’ve been helpful in identifying the possible laws that the coroner followed (or ignored, depending on the details) in refusing to release my mother’s body to her partner. My contact has offered to help us more if we’re up for it. I’ve been passing along the information to Lee, and waiting to see if she wants to proceed with any part of this process.
In a dream last night, my mother sat with Lee in the corner of a dimly-lit basement party. She appeared as she did before the ALS; vibrant, unencumbered. I looked across the room at her and she smiled, looking inexplicably shy, holding her partner’s hand. As I slept something physical moved through me (adrenalin only?). I woke briefly and felt it fading; I faltered on the edge of sleep again I gotta remember this and then another dream took me, and I was gone.
There’s a pit of sadness and detachment in my chest, clinging through the day’s movements. What am I forgetting? What was the gesture you offered, the moment my blood rushed quick? As the day progresses I am mocked by a message spinning in my head like a song; I can hear the rhythm, I can feel the form, I just can’t hear the words.