When my father died six years ago, I kept a journal about his illness, his death and my bereavement. It helped me sort through my feelings and also to assimilate what had happened.
When my mother died last October, I posted on this blog (see November and December archives) but apart from that, I only wrote a couple of diary entries which I had to abort in the middle, because I was so upset. It's been a puzzle to me why I haven't been able to write about losing my mother. This week I managed it. I wrote a piece that only took two drafts - it whooshed out onto the page - and I'm delighted with it. It helped me to clarify my feelings, and it's a tribute to my mother. Now I need to get it published. I'll tell you where to look for it when I succeed.
The picture above is of the road into my mother's village in Wensleydale. (Photograph by Peter Sharman.)
The one below was taken by my brother.
And this one was taken by my sister.
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