This month has had half a foot in the hereafter…this week in particular. Muddled into question marks hanging over my future, and consistent over-thinking about my past, the week stood out – its general unremarkability contrasted with the surreality of a day of commemoration.
I don’t know how to write this, other than to climb onto my soapbox and plead to the skies to be heard; to have my thoughts acknowledged and recognised – for once not by the people who visit here (because I’m pretty sure most would be in agreement, and if not, the disagreement would at…
By the time my Grandma died, she no longer knew me. She barely remembered her children (her biggest smiles reserved for her youngest – my uncle) or her doting husband, who sat by her side, silent in his grief at watching the shell of his wife slip away. Her soul had gone ahead, as is…
