write more?

I should write more, or else this isn't really a blog. i do sometimes keep posts as drafts, but i always get to thinking that my thoughts are too depressing, to personal or too insignificant for people to bother reading. 

And you are probably tuning out right now, but wait. i do have a story to tell and it is worth listening to.

My mother died of Pancreatic Cancer on April Seventh of 2021 and today i signed papers deeding her estate to me. Yesterday i was at the bank transfering funds from inherited IRAs. I've been crying a lot, especially in the mornings. I like to go to the park and say my prayers by the water under the old oaks on the indian mound. A few weeks after she died i came home and realized that I had left my phone somewhere, probably one of the benches where id sat, at the park. first, I called and texted my number from my mothers phone which was still active, and headed back  to retrace the steps from my walk. I found a heart-shaped note, fixed in place with a stone and called the number, sure enough he had a phone but sounded confused but agreed to come meet me. He still seemed baffled as he approached the bench and asked for ID. "How do i know its your phone," he asked, "There was a lady here. We said good morning." i told him that i hadn't seen anyone else when i was there. He explained that it was the woman whose picture came up on the phone. "She had a slight accent," he said, "maybe European." 

It was my turn to be confused. After explaining to him how i came to have my mother's phone he returned mine reluctantly. I realized that some woman must have sat there for a moment and said hello, thinking he was looking for his phone, and when he found it he thought that it was an opportunity to do something nice for a friendly attractive woman. Maybe she did  look a bit like my mother and he hoped to make her acquaintance. I felt a little sad because i thought it would have been nice for him to meet someone that way. But I also thought of Masha and how she would do something like that, guard a strangers phone and make sure it got back to its rightful owner. I felt protected, as if her spirit in some way watched over me. I still say hello to that guy when i see him walk his dog.

I still cry sometimes when i sit on the bench. We did visit that park a few times before she died, and i think she would enjoy sitting with me and listening to a little ghost story.

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