This is for my Mum, who died seventeen years ago today. As I grow old myself, I look back and am constantly amazed at the physical energy she had when she was older than I am now. Dad and I, who knew mental energy better, didn't understand the extent to which her determination to push herself physically was an expression of love. But I understand that now and I wish I could tell her. I also wish I could say, "Bloody hell, I'm sixty, Mum and I need you."
For almost two years after Mum's death, music of any kind would make me cry and I tried to avoid it. Then one day when I was working at home this track was played on the radio and I sobbed as I had never sobbed before. After that, music became a solace for me again. I think a lot of women remember their mothers when they hear this song and for me, it says it all:
For Violet Rosamund Eggleton, 19.10.1917 - 31.8.1993 - the wind beneath my wings.