Sunday morning my mother gave up her fight against pneumonia. Getting on with the business of death is much easier than when my dad died but holding off the sledgehammer of grief is just as hard.
Last time it was because I had to be there completely for my mother. She relied on me entirely and grief was closed away in a box. Now I go about the informing of relatives and friends, an ever shrinking group - what once took me two evenings now took just over an hour.
Tomorrow I will clear out what I want from her little flat and donate the rest - clothes, books and furniture to the other residents. I've already contacted the council to get her plaque beside dad's on the bench at Fintry Bay. It's a machine in motion and at some point I'll get off, clear my head and be able to untangle these confused emotions and think.
We had a difficult relationship over the years but what does that matter? Next Monday we will see who comes to pay their respects but I'm of the mind that it's their conscience on how they treated her in life.
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