It is 29th June, 1993 and my mother lies, delirious, in a Cardiff hospital. I can make little or no sense of many of her utterings whilst others seem to have some basis in fact. Suddenly, very quietly, she says, "I'm going, I'm going." "Where are you going, Mum?" I ask. "I'm going , I'm going ...to a place called Syracuse." So somewhere in that troubled and confused brain was a memory of my telling her about my first visit to Syracuse in Sicily.
After that, I'd often sit by her bed and tell her again about the clear, blue waters of the harbour at Syracuse. Whether she understood or not I had no way of knowing but it did seem to have a calming effect.
And that is why, back in Sicily that Christmas, I walked along the lovely pathway next to the harbour and had a little talk to Mum [who had died at the end of August]. I recited Shakespeare's Sonnet XXIX for her, as I had at her deathbed and her funeral and I said my real "goodbye" to her there.
3 comments:
Knowing all to well the sorrow at losing a Mother, my heart feels your pain. I wish only the best for you my new freind. Hopefully I can all you friend.. you've brought possibility to me so I figure it's the least I can do.
Shakespeare... my ultimate favorite. Does anyone tell a tragedy better than him?
Be well always! ~M
Today is the 4th anniversary of my father's death, so we share sad memories, but many happy ones too.
I can't be with my mother today, but have a little vigil at home with flowers, his photo and a candle, it's my Greek blood.
Hi, M. It is always good to have a new friend. Thank you for your understanding.
Post a Comment