Thursday, June 5, 2014


I had a weird moment when Olivia's principal was here today. I mentioned that my mother had come from the States, and referred to her in the past tense. Carol asked me where she was now, and I had to stop myself from automatically saying, 'she's dead'. That would have been... rude. And mean, really. It's an interesting question to ask about a dead person - where are they now? Who knows! Heaven? All around us? In the trees?

But 'she died' works fine, given that I'm not in America. I'm glad I live somewhere where it's ok to say 'she died' because that's what she did. I'd hate to have to formulate some euphemistic and possibly Christian answer.

I wrote this post because, I confess, I was asking myself which I'm now more upset about, the end of my marriage or the death of my mother and that sudden impulse that had jumped into my throat as I got the milk from the fridge came back to me. This sounds pathetic and callous and sociopathic, doesn't it? The truth is, I've been feeling upset about the end of my marriage for the last week or so. I walked past our first flat the other evening with the dog and felt a rising of misery again.

But it'll fade.

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