Yesterday I told you in an episode that I don't do tears...that crying is not my bag.
I have to confess that it is not exactly true...I have cried buckets, but not over Ma.
The tears I have cried have all been for the kitties I have had over the years....and each loss has been just a little harder than the previous one.
I wept like a girl at the loss of Pasha just over a year ago....and on the anniversary of her death this year I have to admit to going a bit soggy round the edges.
Yet, for Ma I have had only one blubbing episode and a few moist moments.
I cannot say why this is...I certainly cared about Ma on the same level that cared about the kitties.
She was in my life almost as much as the kitties....OK she did not sleep on
the foot of my bed, or sit on the arm of my chair while watching TV.
So I cannot account for the difference.
I certainly miss her, i miss not being able to talk to her, to tell her of my discoveries on Ancestry, to show her the pictures of Harley in Paris. In Warsaw, in Brighton...going about her lecture tour of the European continent.
I miss making her a basin of buttery creamy mash, a shepherds pie...and the wrinkly pomegranate would never have had time to get wrinkly...she would have devoured it with gusto.
I fear it will find its way into the bin one day fairly soon.
I cannot delete her number from my phone, and I trawled through the answer machine hoping to hear a message from her just so that I could hear her voice again...alas nothing.
So I deleted all the other messages in a fit of pique.
It is going to be a long time before this Ma shape hole shrinks.
I have to confess that it is not exactly true...I have cried buckets, but not over Ma.
The tears I have cried have all been for the kitties I have had over the years....and each loss has been just a little harder than the previous one.
I wept like a girl at the loss of Pasha just over a year ago....and on the anniversary of her death this year I have to admit to going a bit soggy round the edges.
Yet, for Ma I have had only one blubbing episode and a few moist moments.
I cannot say why this is...I certainly cared about Ma on the same level that cared about the kitties.
She was in my life almost as much as the kitties....OK she did not sleep on
the foot of my bed, or sit on the arm of my chair while watching TV.
So I cannot account for the difference.
I certainly miss her, i miss not being able to talk to her, to tell her of my discoveries on Ancestry, to show her the pictures of Harley in Paris. In Warsaw, in Brighton...going about her lecture tour of the European continent.
I miss making her a basin of buttery creamy mash, a shepherds pie...and the wrinkly pomegranate would never have had time to get wrinkly...she would have devoured it with gusto.
I fear it will find its way into the bin one day fairly soon.
I cannot delete her number from my phone, and I trawled through the answer machine hoping to hear a message from her just so that I could hear her voice again...alas nothing.
So I deleted all the other messages in a fit of pique.
It is going to be a long time before this Ma shape hole shrinks.

