This day in 2012 was cold, windy and wet. The sea outside Folkestone Harbour was churning away and the little fisherman's church on the top of the hill was buffeted by squally, swirling showers. With any sense on such a day we would have stayed indoors. Yet we were in that little church surrounded by people who knew us one way or another focusing on a wicker coffin. For that was the day of mum's funeral.
We are apart today. People I have spoken to cannot believe it has been 4 years. Time has marched on more rapidly than any of us imagined. But today we think and remember her.
Work wise there has been a lot of death in the last couple of weeks. We are busy trying to pick up the pieces. For me personally it has also been several months of death. That part of my life has abated a little.
I try to take it gently on those days that marked the end of her life. So a quiet evening of TV, a light supper and contemplation awaits. I'll come up for air hopefully restored later in the week.
I Heard a Voice.
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