In the end, it finally all seems to have been a dream.
Only the things written down have any gravity to them.
The other things are ready to disappear.
I launched my first blog post four years ago today. The summer of miracles—that’s how I will always remember it—the summer my mother’s death sentence got turned on its side. Astonishingly, that summer, she rocketed out of her sick bed and for a time, jumped right back into living her life.
It felt right to me then to pay homage to her here, to share pieces of her story, to give you just a glimpse of her courage and grace. My words and photographs at the time—a bittersweet release— encouraged her…encouraged me.
Then, like a dream, she vanished into the ethers.
Or did she?
Strangely, though my mother is physically gone, committing her story to a book and to the pages of this blog have afforded me a connection to her that I could never have anticipated. True, there is an ever-widening chasm between now and then, but in this place between time and space where I have entrusted my words, my photographs, I can, at any moment of my choosing travel back in time to those early posts or open up her book and reconnect with the joy that was my mother.
Indeed, Mr. Salter had it right— Only things written down have any gravity to them. The other things are ready to disappear.