I find myself feeling gratitude for her many gifts. As I walk by the souvenir stands near Trafalger, I remember the last time I was here, she wanted me to buy her some postcards. There is no need to get postcards for her this time. Grief seems to come on the installment plan. A lot arrives at the moment of loss and then payments come along as we can handle them.
Little things spark memories and then the tears begin again.
Not all the remembering during the trip is about my mother. Travel to a favorite place brings all the previous visits that each mark a stage of the larger journey that is a life. I went to see Turner's paintings at the Tate Gallery that I haven't visited for a couple of decades. It brought back the thrill of discovery that came with that first viewing of his passionate displays of sunlight flooding into everything. Sometimes it really is a small world.