When I am fortunate enough to view an early-evening sunset with the kind oranges, timid peaches and accommodating pinks brushed across the sky, I fantasize that this is my mum's nod to me across the vastness. She liked going to the park to watch sunsets. She found a bit of comfort, maybe even hope, in learning that stars never die. They become a supernova and cast their remnants across the universe, raw material for something next.Weeks after her passing I heard her call my name, once, in an urgent but excited tone. But up high in the air, in the altitudes, it is silent. Surprisingly silent.
