She's MY mother

I have never really understood this "I hate Mondays" thing. I really, I mean really, love Mondays for some strange reason.
Same with everyday life. I like the normal days much better than vacation.

Maybe it's because it's in everyday life that we live. It's on weekdays with the everyday problems and joys and challenges that we learn and grow.

I have always  said that I enjoy anonymity.
A few days ago a dear old lady connected to our family through friendship and faith passed away, three days before her 94th birthday.
My thoughts went back my mother's funeral almost sixteen years ago.
The chapel was filled with more flowers than I had ever seen at a funeral and the pews were crowded all the way to the back with people who wanted to pay their respect.

The thought occurred to me while I was sitting there, "She's my mother."
It was a strange sensation to share her with so many people, so many who wanted a part of her, people I did not even know that well.

Then I thought how wonderful it was that she was loved and respected by so many. Her sweet influence reached much farther than our home and family, her love was big enough to embrace many. She was truly loved in return.

My mother was not famous, not in the papers, not in the media. What is it like to share your mother with the whole world, because she is a celebrity? What is it like to have people all over the world feel like they have a piece of their mother? Do they go through the same emotions I did?

I gave the talk at her funeral. It was not hard. I had sensed the peace and contentment she felt as she passed away. And when I started with the words, "How does one describe an angel?" it seemed natural and good to  speak pleasantly about her and the life she had led. There were plenty of good memories to share.

Again, I love Mondays. I like doing the laundry, cleaning my castle, and starting another week of writing and playing with my munchkins. Everyday life is good.

Photos today: My mother, Solveig, and me.