I didn’t sleep much last night. It felt like I was sitting up with mum waiting for dawn. Then it was the day after my mother died. Weird. Today began the process of making phone calls. I was dreading it. But in a strange way there has been comfort in that too. People are so kind. Telling the story makes it real. Although as far as that goes I know it hasn’t begun to really sink in. But our brains are kind too and today it was ok to just potter along on auto.
We have shared stories and memories. Out of it all some things shine through, true and unwavering. How much she loved the boys. How proud she was of them all. And this week she had said she was ready to go. She knew all was well. I am so grateful to have been there as she went on her journey. I stroked her hair and said ‘its time to go home’ as she left.
We sat with her over the evening saying goodbye and remembering. As they came and took her away we stood and waved her goodbye. The church bells were ringing out from the church where we will say our last farewells. She was driven away past the chip shop which we passed every week on our excursions. ‘oooh fish and chips’ she’d say. The last time we went out was 3 weeks ago. She had fish and chips and an ice cream.
I will keep telling our stories. That way she is still with us.
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