52and40/23 The Selfsame Well

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A friend died recently.  She was my writing teacher first (and my first writing teacher).

I can trace roads from everything I’ve had published in the last two years to Helen, her guidance at every way-marker.  Even with this map I’m disorientated; floundering in comprehending such a special woman being gone.

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In grief, all roads lead inevitably to my Mum.  Every funeral a little her funeral, too.  Profound losses only comforted by the extreme gratitude for having shared some of the world with extraordinary people’s smiles and stories.

Joy and sorrow, innit?

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52and40/14 Benediction

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We saw Collateral Beauty.  The film whisked me back ten years to a hell of a week.  Mum had been admitted to hospital in Aberdeen with a DVT.  My son had his sixth birthday party.  I hadn’t organised a thing for Halloween.

The morning after cobbled together trick or treating, Mum called from hospital and gently explained she had terminal cancer.

The world stopped as grief started.

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Who I’d been until then died with her and (slowly, painfully) a new gratitude for life was born.  Heather 2.0.  An unwanted, bittersweet fresh start.

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