After nigh-on 30 years, I'm no longer making mourning pictures for Mother, this time of year. But lately, I've been reading Victorian mourning poetry, and reflecting on all the things I miss about Lia and Jana. And how in the 19th century, it wouldn't be at all unusually to have lost everyone. It just seems unfair for my life in the late 20th/early 21st. There were so many things I wanted to do with/for my mother. There were so many things I wanted to do with/for Jana and Lia.
Being Victorianly morbid feels awfully good. I know that a lot of modern folks would be horrified. But I deal with death by embracing it utterly, and doing a bit of weltering in its aspects, now and then. I feel so much better after I do. I guess it's how I work out my grief. It may not be PC, but I've never been PC (thank all gods).