Pain can be seen. You can see it when people grimace or when they wince. But sometimes what really hurts doesn't actually cause any visually apparent pain. I think that's so interesting. We can all be carrying hurt and no one can see it.

The day of Hurricane Katrina, it's also the day my mom had her first heart attack. I guess this is why I have been having some anxiety dreams. I realize she's gone and I am dealing with it on a subconsious level right now. It's the brithday --> hospital --> heartattack that always gives me pause. How could I not know she was that sick. Could I have changed anything. (The answer is no. You can't live in the past and beat yourself up.) But this time of year, the question resurfaces and I miss her. I miss her voice. I miss her wisdom. I didn't realize that she would go into the hospital and never leave. I wish I had more time to write down her secret recipes or talk to her about her father and how she felt when he was dying. Did she have regrets? What were they?

It's been cathartic this week just writing it all down. Words, dreams and feelings. I am hoping this will be an outlet that will let me say what I have been wanting to say to my dad or anyone but sometimes saying the words are hard... writing them gives you some time to reflect.

I've really appreciated all the kind comments and insight from blip. Thank you for your kindness recently. I think its pushed me a bit with my photos.