In the shadows

This morning I woke up with my mother. She died two years ago, in May, but this morning I was with her, and when I opened my eyes the longing was intense, and I felt again that detachment from reality that was with me for so long, two years ago, and the presence of the…

Scattering ashes

Last week, one year ago, we scattered my mother’s ashes in a place which she loved. But those words don’t seem quite right. They make the action sound trivial, like throwing something away. It was high up, the wind swirled and took the ashes, some touched us, and then there was silence. And I felt…

The soughing of the wind

My mother woke me this morning. I didn’t open my eyes, I just lay still, and remembered the sound of her voice, and her scent. She came in the moment a year ago when we scattered her ashes – the wind swirled and soughed, and then it was silent. I sensed release, escape, peace. The…

Remembering

This week last year I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing an old lady’s house, when I heard that my mother had had a stroke. It was very stormy and I couldn’t travel for a day, and then, because I knew it was serious, I tidied up my affairs before taking the long journey…

Remembering

I am nervous about facing the next weeks. I returned to South Africa on 29 April last year, and my mother died on 5 May, at 3.45pm. I have flashbacks when I remember that last week in vivid detail – I don’t think one ever achieves ‘closure’, whatever that may mean. I think I am…