THE LAST LESSON....

Marseille Callelongue Calanque Monday 20th September

Went to France last week-end for my mum's 82nd birthday. She has got cancer, its very serious, secondaries and all so was expecting...well was expecting to have it my way...isn't that choking. I was actually wanting my dying mother to have the sort of 82nd birthday that I wanted for her. I can see it now but at the time, I was full of giving her the best time ever, sitting together hugging and telling each other how much we love each other and any number of other strange notions.

Only you see, in my family we do not do things like that, ever, EVER, EVER.... even when mum is dying and its probably her last birthday.

And why o why should we start now? Because, I want to? What right do I have to impose upon someone my ideas about how she should or should not do something?

But see, its too hard...too hard for whom? Too hard for ME... excuse me, says a voice in my head, you could please, ahem, remind me...who is it that's doing the dying here? And who is having a hard time? ME? Pardon, what?

Ok, point taken...so I have to let this happen and be there but watching at a respectful distance. Doing it her way. Because, that's probably her last gift to me, the last gift a parent can give a child...teaching them to accept that they know best how to die.

As I look out of the window, with the rain, practically horizontal, and the north wind blowing a gale, the hum of the central eating, my old friend, in the back groud, I also watch as the year slowly dies and remind myself that I can no more influence that than I can influence my mother's choices.

Last week, I wrote of midpoints, this week, I am watching, not being centre stage and not making it all about me. Strange feeling that. And yet, watching is amazing. Look at her photo, I managed to take it when she was not looking at me...looking at the beautiful rock face above. There she is, my mum, dying her way, as I watch...