This is my proof (though none is needed).

Even when I was little I knew she would be gone one day.

In a way, I am glad of that as I was able to treasure every minute with her. I knew it was golden to be near her. I was lucky to be loved like that. Unconditionally. You could make all the mistakes in the world and there would still be buttered toast three inches thick, The Archers, a blue apron and a song that no-one remembers the words to but she probably loved when she was young.

Fractured images that spin still. Spiders trapped in primitive double glazing. The smell of tomatoes in a greenhouse. Street lights in the dark on New Year's Eve. Slug trails in the house. Alarm clocks on the fireplace. Brasso. Dogs barking in the distance at night. Wondering why she looked out of the window and cried. "Some fairy duck pond", "Another job jobbed," and many, many more. Tea. The cartoon page from the paper. Jigsaw puzzles. Stories about the war. Things to do...always things to do. Flowers. Lemonade on the bedside table. Pigeons on the roof. Teeth in a cup and a bowl to wee in under the bed. Hats and brooches even if you were just going out to get bread. "Fesh and pop" from the vans on the hill...etc. etc. etc.

All this and she was a complete stranger who adopted my Mother and her sister.

I am so glad I bought her the pink ribbon she always wanted for her hair before this day five years ago.



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