Bereavement support

Last night Bereaved Families of Toronto had a special session for people who've lost their mothers, since last Sunday was Mother's Day.  On the way there from the subway I got caught in a downpour, which was suitable pathetic fallacy.  There were half a dozen people there and I was the only man.  Paradoxically, I was in a good mood. 

I had a lot to say in that session.  I mentioned how I'd become more aware of my father's mortality and cited a dream I'd had a few nights before where I was flying in a plane next to a window and Father was walking(!) beside it next to me:  I realized he'd fall to earth so I reached out to hold on to him.  It was at this meeting that I suddenly realized my new interest in speaking Scots is an attempt to get closer to Mother's memory!  

People were impressed by all my cultural references.  I mentioned something I'd read (in John Hersey's The Call), that after your mother dies you sometimes become more like her,   then mentioned that in one of Mazo de la Roche's Jalna novels a fortune-teller told Renny that he'd get more of his grandmother than anyone else would. (He thought this meant her money!) I mentioned the fairy tale "The Pearl Princess," where the girl told her father she loved him like salt, and pointed out that losing a parent is a lot like running out of salt forever.  

I also compared myself to Roger Sterling in the Mad Men episode where his mother's death left him cold and flippant, but a bootblack he was friendly with also died and looking at the latter's shoe-shining equipment drove him to tears.  I rather envied Judith, who ended up in tears about her mother. (I still haven't wept, and the only person who has in my presence is Puitak when I told her.) We still haven't decided when to take Mother's ashes to Cape Breton, but August would be a good time for me since my acting class will be on hiatus then.  Right now her ashes are on top of a cabinet full of knick-knacks.

Tuesday night I went to Toronto City Opera's annual meeting.  All the people who participate in it are invited, but hardly anyone who isn't involved with directing it comes.  Even I only do on occasion.  Sandra gave a financial report:  we were in the black again this year.  The autumn fundraiser was disappointing, but the March gala largely made up for its shortfall. It turns out that the stage manager found some old equipment in the Bickford Centre's junk-strewn basement--I wonder if that's what the world will look like in the future--and saved a thousand dollars on our wireless communication!  Next year the fall fundraiser will be at the Bickford Centre.

At the meeting I finally noticed that Beatrice and Adolfo are a couple now.  I always seem to be the last to notice those things!