If we both were born in another place and time

Grief is a strange and persistent beast. My mother died four years ago, and I haven't really written about it since I had to write her memorial. Yesterday, Olivia Newton-John, one of my mom's favorite singers, died and the grief just ... resurfaced. I'd say it came back, but it never really leaves. 

I would have called her as soon as I heard about ONJ, and we would have grieved her together. (I have such a vivid memory of the night Princess Diana died, calling my mom and crying together over this woman we never met.) Instead, today I put on my mom's Olivia Newton-John records and sang my way through "The River's Too Wide" and cried my way through "I Honestly Love You."