A bit to quick

by charlotte
(Britain)

The months they gave us, very shockingly, became weeks and suddenly you were dying in front of my eyes. You wanted to die here, with us, me and the three grandchildren and I am so thankful and proud that I managed to make that happen. The sound of the bickering, the laughter, the animals causing mayhem, I know they all filtered through those last diamorphine hazey days. I know we all got to kiss you goodbye and that I lay with you afterwards and held you in my arms. I think that I am one of the lucky ones....but such early days for counting blessings. Is it inevitable that I don't cry enough or feel enough because I am so scared of what succumbing to that pain might lead to? Possibly. I know that a funeral has to be arranged, papers signed, how many times a day do I have to say in a measured voice down the phone 'my mother just died'...to strangers who want to put pity or compassion in their voices, but I don't want to hear it in case it tips me over the edge. I am under no illusions, how relationship was fraught with many difficulties and many pleasures...I miss our interesting conversations about life, politics, love, friendship, writing, music and so on. I miss preparing you food, and yet when it was my job, I wondered how long it would last. There you go, I suppose, there is the lesson. It will always be to soon for you to have gone, but that broken body that let you down in your latter years, is no longer your cage and I hope that whatever the gods, goddesses or universe has in store for us, allows you your freedom again. Because you were always a very free person and you never reigned me in and you always trusted through the dark and light times, that I would turn out just fine. And I guess I did. Thank you mum. xxx