Yesterday. Watched Babe. Babe the Pig calls every female animal "Mom" and says almost nothing but "I miss my Mom," "Don't die Mom," and "Can I call you my Mom?" Cried.
Today, on the way home. Thought about what to do with the rest of Mom's ashes. Cried.
At home, putting up the Nativity Scene on the top of the bookshelves. Used the basket Mom's ashes are in to hang the angel from. Cried.
Midnight. Gary came in from walking the dog with a gift from Mom's friends. I started to laugh even before he opened it because, as I guessed correctly, it was the Missouri Botanical (Shaw's) Garden Calendar which her friends would buy her every year. I laughed because every year she would apologize to me because then it would be my job every month to turn to a new page, seeing that she couldn't raise her arms and she insisted on hanging it on the fridge. Then I read their very sweet card. Cried.
There was an interesting article on crying today:
What I need is a good cry. I'd better get it over with.