A glass of water by my side, the faint tapping of my fingers on the keyboard, my concentration is momentarily broken by the sounds of the Gregorian wind chimes that hang outside our back door. These chimes, tuned to a medieval scale, were given to me as a Christmas gift by my friend Seattle George, long ago. They didn't find an appropriate home until I was married. The rich sounds of these eight metallic tubes comfort me as I visualize Mama, alone, on Greek Easter Sunday.

Dev, the chicken, and I will be celebrating Greek Easter with our extended family in Vancouver.

We will, tirelessly, answer questions about Mama's health.

We will light a candle for her during the Agape Services.

We will be anxious and excited about our flight to Greece the following day.

Mama will be in Douglas House, in her Broda chair, sleeping.

Today, at 9:00 AM, I am to call Father Evangelos to arrange for Mama to have communion in preperation for Pascha.

Today, on this rainy Canadian Good Friday morning, I mourn Mama, as Mary and Martha did at the loss of their beloved brother Lazarus, some 2000 years ago.

Today, on this rainy Canadian Good Friday morning, I pray for my own Easter miracle: that the coming Christ resurrect Mama so that she is able, once again, to participate fully in our lives.