This Easter, the first without mum, is hard. It doesn’t seem so long ago that she sat in her chair downstairs, and that a carer would be buying or preparing her lunch. Now it’s quiet. I don’t smell salmon, or anything else for that matter. There is no mug with tea, waiting to be sipped. No half eaten muffin. The TV isn’t even on.
I have my to-do list. About a week or so ago, I was given permission by the lawyer in charge of the estate, to begin clearing. I have pencilled in an hour this afternoon, to continue to get rid of my scientific papers. Then there is the boat race and Line of Duty to look forward to.
A few weeks ago, I began to feel very tired during the afternoon and early evening. I hope it’s a temporary thing. I had looked forward to good weather so I can spend sometime in the garden. I need vitamin D. But it’s not like last year. We can expect frosty nights.
There is a root canal to arrange, clothes to buy, an appointment with the hairdresser, I need new sandals that don’t make me feel seasick. My watch strap needs replacing. And while I want a covid vaccination, GP doesn’t think it wise to have the Pfizer. Too many allergies. The one jab Jansen has had production problems so won’t be available for years.
Last year, I had short chats during the day with mum. About everything and nothing. Now there is that empty chair. How my life has changed. She had a long life but hated her various health issues. She died peacefully on a sunny morning. I had no idea then that it was just the start of a roller coaster few months. That the noise would come from emails from solicitors. That these would break my heart. And there was no mum to sit beside for support. Just one year.
A wobbly tulip from Amsterdam. 