We never get over these losses---mothers and grandmothers are the roots of our families. We have memories as their spirit lives on. Immortality. My mother couldn't cook guts for a bear. She made no apologies; it was a family joke. She was an outdoors person through and through. When it wasn't raining she was in the woods, snaring rabbits, poaching trout or gardening. My nephew's first memory of her was coming across the field on snowshoes wearing a fur-rimmed Hudson's Bay parka with a rabbit in each hand. My only tangible evidence of her existence is her treasured camouflaged oars. Your memories will get you through, CHAZ. Condolences.
