My Mother’s Love Grew in My Garden. It Still Does
A few weeks ago was my mother Betty’s yartzeit. 18 years. My mother has now been gone the length of my entire childhood. Those first 18 years seemed like an eternity as I was growing up. A lifetime, in fact. Yet now 18 years seems to have passed in a flash. It could be 8 years, or sometimes it feels like 18 months. Grief time doesn’t follow physics. Eighteen years ago this summer, a few months…













