Forty Days of Lent: Day Twenty-Two

This afternoon I was working on my resume and wanted to include some shows where I had exhibited some art of mine.  I called the friend of mine who had curated the show and asked him the date and the name of the exhibit.  He gave me the name but didn't have the date (we're all getting old) so he suggested I google the name of the show and the location to find a website with the date.

I tried but oddly enough that did not give me the answer.  I then began running variations: the name of the show and the city where it took place.  Nothing.  The name of the location and my friend's last name. Nada.  The name of the show and my friend's name...and what came up was the obituary for my friend's father.  A wave of sadness permeated me unexpectedly.  

One of the things I recall from my father's death was how reminders of him would seem to materialize  out of thin air.  Unexpected and uninvited but not necessarily unwanted, they would hit you hard, the sadness and loss washing over you.  And now?  Not only do we have memory doing this to us but we also have our internet search engines triggering our grief with the lucky combination of words.