31 Comments

Great job Sharron. Reads just as well this time as it did the first. - Jim

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Thanks, Jim. Just let these re-posts slide, my friend. You have enough unread stuff in your inbox!

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I think this one is the very best!

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Thank you, Linda. I am not proud of all my stories, but I am proud of this one. I think Katy would have liked it, too.

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I knew I liked her. Missed meeting her because of the 2000 miles between us, but I can hear her through the screen above the keyboard. )))

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Good! I do want her stories to be heard. It is my way of keeping her alive. Thank you, Kate.

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Beautiful.

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Oh! Thank you Christina. I am glad you liked this one. It was written with love, I will say that.

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This reminds me so much of The Notebook, reading to someone who loves you yet they are flying away....pognant, different and yes, so evocative of what happens!

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Yes, a very apt comparison. I read to my mom a lot - she lived with me for her last 17 years. I wrote my novel, Bartle Clunes, just for her. She came to believe the characters were real people. https://sharronbassano.substack.com/s/bartle-clunes

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They were-in your VERY real imagination. And at least in hers as well.

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How sweet! I love that you have such wonderful memories of your mom despite the hard lives you both enjoyed. Always focus on the best! Ignore the rest!

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Sage advice. Especially in March 2025... sigh. Thanks Wade.

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Sharron,

I was once in that scene, near the last act of the play of Life. My father, who was in his 90s then, listened to a song I wrote, "Fading Away." He knew it was about him—and me. Months earlier, I had a dream in my sleep. I clarify that it was in my sleep because I am fond of dreaming during the day when I am awake. I am a fiction writer. In my night dream, I was playing the guitar.

When I woke that morning, I decided to learn to play. I played for myself, friends, and family, mostly for my father. He loved the music and the stories within the song. When I played, he would often say, "Sing louder."

One summer, he had open heart surgery. He recuperated on a lounge chair on the patio of their home. I brought my guitar. I played and sang for my father. He was happy then.

A few years later, he passed at age 94.

I had a dream that I played guitar.

Don't let anyone tell you that God does not exist.

He speaks to us in our dreams.

I once played guitar.

I still talk with God ... and my father ... and my mother.

God speaks to us.

Joel

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Thank you, Joel, for sharing this sweet, poignant story with me. You miss him a lot. I can see that.

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I do.

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Another wonderful Katy story, Sharron! 💚

So any plans to do a book?

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Thanks for asking, Jack. I have 32 pages in book form ( minus the photos). I xeroxed it for my friends and family at Christmas, but don't have any plans for it. I offer to email it to anyone who wants it.

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May I get an electronic copy, please, Sharron? jherlocker(at)gmail.com

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Done. Enjoy!

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This is so bitter-sweet and lovely. I miss sitting outside with Jeff in our big chairs ... built to carry the weight of hippos. They're ripped and torn from sun damage now, but maybe we can still sit in them. Just like you and Katy, watching the planes fly into Reno and seeing whatever other mayhem is crossing the sky. Thank you for this, Sharron. This is one of your best Katy stories.

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Thank you, Sue. I feel good about this story. They are not all successful, but I think this one has merit.

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I remembered this one from my first reading. This is one of your absolute best, Sharron. I can't begin to tell you the emotions this stirs in me, especially the second time around. Safe flight, Katy.

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Thanks, my hero. You are always so kind. Katy would have loved you.

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Very nice, Sharron! Katy remembers the important things. I remember my Dad calling me one early evening to the kitchen. Looking out the door window we saw Venus, right on the top point of the crescent moon as if they were connected.

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Beautiful memory, Ron. I'll bet you miss him.

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So beautiful, Sharron. You were so sweet with your Mama! She knew every single day, how much you loved her.

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I hope that is true. Thank you, Sharon.

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Warm, mellow, and touching. I could picture it all, Sharron, as if I were there with you two. What a wonderful evening ritual.

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Thank you, KC. She was a good old gal. In her 90s we did jigsaw puzzles together and she talked a lot. I read to her and wrote stories for her. We were housemates and pals and she is sorely missed. No matter how much I did, I still regret that I didn't do more. I guess it is natural.

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We often feel we can never give enough back to our parents. I have the same regrets.

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