Wish

I wish I didn't have to tell you this. But it's either silence or truth. My beloved therapist was murdered just over two weeks ago by her son. It is just that incomprehensible. I have not had the heart to come here but I miss you all. My relationship with G was profound and loving, and was helping me finally to heal old wounds. I don't know what else to say. Times are dark, and every night I light a candle to G. The tree glows and the fire burns bright and we know that tomorrow brings a new year. And for now that is all.

Mum

Surrounded by my mother's possessions, rug, lamp, vases, dishes, CDs, throw on the sofa, pictures, photographs, and have even been wearing her cardigan, I am comforted and discomforted in equal measure. I keep saying to L
I want my Mum back

On The Road

We are heading south today to make what we hope will be our final contribution to the clearing of my mother's flat, for which a buyer has been found. We shall return with a car full of stuff. CDs and a CD deck, books, lamps, filing cabinet containing all my mother's paperwork, a mirror, a clothes airer, a bread crock, bowls, vases and ornaments, pictures, curtains, food items, and goodness knows what else besides. Pragmatic, sad, slightly anxious, here I am, and in a couple of hours we'll be on the road. Tomorrow we'll go into London to visit my Mum for the afternoon. She has been diagnosed with early Alzheimers dementia, and I guess we're all slowly absorbing this information (except her I suspect).