I have kept my mother’s tradition of baking shortbread cookies at Christmas. This year I started baking on November 4, knowing full well how many tins I have to fill in order to cover everyone on the expanding cookie list. I love to bake them and I think of my mom always, so this is truly a labour of love for my mumsie. It’s still too early to listen to Christmas music or to watch Christmas shows as I bake, so I have watched Leafs games or recently-PVR’d shows. I baked that Sunday, and also Wednesday and both Friday and Saturday of last week. I am glad I am getting it done early. If you got cookies last year, you’ll get them again in 2018. I have filled sixteen tins so far.

Last year on the third anniversary of my mother’s death, November 12, I chose to start my shortbreads baking. I did not cycle down to her (our) condo last year. Yesterday I wanted to. It was pouring rain, yet I would never pull a Trump on my own mother and I rode down. I looked up at our old apartment, which was all dark. I recalled what happened that night exactly four years ago. So eerie to look up around 11:30 p.m. and see almost every single light out on the entire side of the building. No one stays up late anymore?

So sad to look up at my former home and to see my mother’s dark bedroom. That’s where I discovered her in bed, looking peacefully asleep. I wrote an In Memoriam announcement which was published in The Globe and Mail on Saturday. It will always be available to read on-line.