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vivian harrower

Lives in Toronto.

Wednesday in Holy Week

I am listening to Messiaen’s “Quartet for the End of Time,” one of the musical offerings Sherman has recommended for Holy Week. I don’t know the piece; perhaps it is the title that has drawn me, given that we’re going through this Covid-19 pandemic. It’s not the End of Time, but still…

I take out a file folder that holds the church bulletin for my father’s funeral. The actual anniversary—April 3 (2004)—has passed, but what I remember more is that he was buried, at age 93, on Maundy Thursday that year. Coincidentally, if that is the right word, my mother died on Holy Saturday, 1984, in her 71st year. I recall being part of a small church group on the Monday of Holy Week, five days before my mother’s death. During a meditation, the title of a song came to me. It was “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.”

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