Today would have been my mother's sixty-eighth birthday.
(Sixty-eight? Really? She was only thirty-seven when she died; it's really hard to imagine her in her sixties.)
Yesterday, Mary Anne posted a link to an article about an extremely promising-sounding new treatment for some forms of leukemia. I will, of course, be very happy if it works out; so far they've only tried it on three people, but I'm looking forward to seeing what happens in the next stage. But some small part of my mind immediately thought “Where were they thirty years ago?” Which is ridiculous; this treatment wouldn't have been possible thirty years ago, and I don't even know whether it's the same kind of leukemia Marcy had, and it will be truly wonderful if other people don't have to die from it in the future. But still, before the wow this is awesome response, I had a tiny moment of resentment that it didn't happen soon enough.
Anyway. I've been okay today; too busy and distracted to think much about Marcy. But every couple of hours, I've noticed again that it's the 17th and remembered again.
I'm in a luxurious hotel room in Reno, preparing to embark on yet another WorldCon. Am contemplating heading over to the SFWA suite, where I hear various awesome people are gathered, but I think that given what day it is, I'll be better off conserving my emotional energy. So I think I'll stay in my room and do computer stuff.
But I don't have a lot to say about Marcy right now. So I'll just fall back on once again posting a link to my favorite photos of her.