Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death. It is seven years since she passed away after a ten-year battle with breast cancer. Every death anniversary – and I’ve collected a few dead people now – leaves me feeling very melancholy and reflective.
Maurice is an old man – he will soon turn 89. He has the slow stooped walk of the very old. His […]
I remember, with absolute clarity, the moment my first baby was placed in my arms. I was lying on the operating theatre table, having a caesarean, tearfully asking if all his fingers and toes were present and accounted for. Then the cord was cut, he was assessed and wrapped, and placed in my arms for my husband and I to adore while the surgeons did what they needed to do.
My little sister passed away in July 2012 after a 29 year battle with mental health issues. She was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder as a young woman and experienced multiple suicide attempts over the years. She developed problem drinking behaviours at age 26 and died age 40 from alcohol related liver failure. She was largely criticised and ostracised by the wider community for “failing” to make the necessary changes to fit in, and to care for herself.
