She was singing, and I was crying.
Standing there on a small bar room stage, long after she passed away was my mother, and she was singing. One evening last year,I was invited by my wife to attend a get together at a small intimate club to see a childhood friend of hers, Diane Durette, who became a locally known female singer. Shortly after we arrived I heard a voice from behind me, it was Diane and she had come over to greet us before she started to play. I turned to look at a pretty middle aged woman who I thought resembled someone I knew but I couldn’t quite place who she looked like. We exchanged introductions and then she made her way to the stage and started the first set. It was then that it hit me that she reminded me of my mother. Her face, hair and physical build was eerily reminiscent of my mother when she was younger. But the most important aspect of seeing this visage was the freedom of her personality.