A Visit

I missed visiting mum's grave on the first anniversary of her death. too busy helping my cousin. So we called round the next day to lay some roses on her grave. The sun was sinking as I drove in to meet my wife and the wean, who had arrived before me. I like Deansgrange, the way its flatness is both palpable presence and absence, a resonant gap in the map, a stone carpet smoothly unrolling, lapping at the backs of the semi-ds. We didn't stay long, enough to stand there for a moment and say hello/goodbye, ,to 'touch base' in a very real sense. Although the grieving never stops, the sadness is, if anything, slightly lessened here, muted as the place itself.

I wrote a bit more about mum's anniversary here.