My mother died yesterday in her home. She was 83, but she was in reasonably good health (apparently). It was rather sudden.
My sister, who lives next door to my mother’s flat, went to check on her after having been unable to get in touch with her during the day. She found my mother dead on her bed.
We don’t know what happened. I am now busy arranging for my flight to Spain. At this moment I am feeling very numb, focusing on everything I have to do, one thing at a time. I think that the whole situation will hit me later with the force of an express train.
Crap. My mother could be difficult at times, and, yes, often staying with her was best done in small doses of not more than two weeks. But nonetheless I loved her dearly. I loved her very very much. She was my mother.
My condolences to you and your family. It sounds like she had a long and healthy life, and the love of her family. These are no small things. I hope the good memories bring you comfort in the days ahead.
