Today, my mother has been gone for one month. It doesn’t really feel like she is gone. When I say gone, I mean to say that she died. She did not go away on vacation to some far-flung land to bask in the sun and drink gin and tonics all day. Although in my mind I hope that she is doing just that. In her version of heaven there is no snow and the world is all beach. Warm, sunny beach. Where you only get tan and never get burned and you never have to eat soup. Only crab cakes.
It has been a week, yesterday since Mom passed. This week has been a blur of planning, family, friends, and memories. My dad is now doing the "work" of all the cleanup. Calling people, cancelling cards, notifying the particular people that make up a life. The dirty stuff no one tells you about until you are in the throes of aftermath.
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Nothing says “summer” like baseball. One of the purest, sports around, baseball is as simple as it is complex. It’s a game everyone can understand and follow. It’s a game that can be as exciting as it can be slow and calculated, but in the end, it is all-American. Baseball is something that binds us together in a way, no other sport does. Watching a game on television or listening on the radio or even the internet is fun, but nothing really compares to being there in person. So, let’s go to the ballpark for a night of baseball!