Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

…A Time to be Born…A Time to Cook             It was on this day, one year ago, that my mother’s funeral happened. I read a eulogy that I’d written, and was the only one to do so.             I won’t recount that event here, as I’ve written about it before. Instead, I’m thinking about the strange parallels between that event, and today. For example, it rained the night before my mother’s funeral. It rained heavily last night. The morning started out cold, and then the day heated up. It did so again today. As I waited for some sign to emerge, I found it toward the end of my work day.             As I waited for public transport, I heard the growl of a motorcycle down the street. The stereo onboard that hog blasted one of Prince’s songs, Kiss . Mom would have liked that. If it had been Diamonds and Pearls ...

Plastic Lilacs It rained the night before my mother’s funeral. I had both seen and met Lindsey Stirling for the second time that night. That’s another story—one that included a mention of my mother by Sister Stirling, while in concert. She dedicated the song Take Flight to her memory that night, for which I’m greatly touched. I recalled that it rained the previous time I saw Lindsey. But this time I was escorted by the first of many viceroy butterflies. They would follow me for the rest of the summer—whether in America, or across the pond. They seemed to guide and comfort me. I’ve written about them before, yet they continue to mystify me.              Melanie, a friend from university, came to pick me up that morning. She had one of her children with her—the youngest boy, about a year old. He looked at me, as we sat in the funeral home parking lot. I had been all nerves on the way over, and now young Segin was onl...

Dear Mom,             It’s been a month since I last spoke to you. I’m sorry for that, but as you know, I’ve been busy. I’ve moved twice, switched jobs, and completed another term at university. Though I spoke to you just the other night, it wasn’t a proper conversation. There’s a lot I’m thinking of this Christmas.             First, it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Not just because the snow has melted. The mood just isn’t there. It hasn’t been for some time. At least the temperatures are mild, and the roads are clear. You’d appreciate that.             I keep having memories to previous Christmas Days. I remember gifts I’d gotten—like the blue dinosaur sleeping back when I was nine. I remember other things too. Every Christmas, you’d put a Mad Magazine , a Medieval or space Lego kit, and a Lifesavers Book i...

My Mother's Passing (Part One) The first scare I had concerning my mother was about two years ago. That was when I found her slumped behind the steering wheel of her car, as she tried to catch her breath. She refused treatment, but was eventually taken to hospital the next day. She fought like hell with the doctor and nurses. Mom was discharged early then, because she refused all treatment; including a much needed heart catheterization. We don't know why she refused it. Myself and my sisters got on her case about it, but to no avail. She was diagnosed with COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder) and sent home. With her in tow was various medications, and an oxygen machine. I likened it to the life support systems in sci-fi movies; as it took carbon dioxide from the air, and made it into breathable oxygen. I set up a list of medications, and what times to administer them. I also keep a close eye on her, to make sure she didn't smoke again. This was in Febr...