My daily phone calls began soon after my mum was diagnosed with cancer. When she got the terrible news, she was seventy-six, a grandmother of five, finally enjoying the fruits of the life she and my father had worked hard for. The doctor said they caught it at an early stage, and only surgery was required to remove the offending cells.
So moving Alice ! Thank you
Very moving and so well written. I aspire to how you write.
Touching and resonates…”She guarded her secrets because sharing them would not have served her purpose”.❤️
Wow! What powerful insights, shared so eloquently.
Such a loving story of motherhood and sacrifice told by a skilled writer.
Very thought provoking. The secrets the previous generation of my family took to the grave could fill a book. How many do we guard in the same way?
So touching and beautifully expressed. Thank you
Your memories are so vivid…I felt your mothers love for you and you for her. Just beautiful.
Alice, this is such a powerful text of love and intimacy, feelings and regrets. Congratulation on another perfectly well written personal story.
Another beautiful and poignant essay, Alice. It reminds me that there are no final conversations, only interrupted ones, with much left unasked or unsaid. As for bereavement hallucinations, they aren’t really the domain of counsellors or psychiatrists; they are the normal property of grief and loss, not to be pathologized but rather to be recognized as transient sensory fragments of enduring connection.
Such a poignant story. Thank you
This is such a beautiful and touching story. Many mothers do carry burdens that we do not know about. At times I wish that I could ask my mother about the issues she kept private….unfortunately I didn’t but her presence is still vibrant in my life.
Thank you for this story…
Marylin Smith Carsley
A touching essay - beautifully written. Poignant yet very positively insightful - thank you.
Alice, this is another elegant piece of writing. It created such strong visuals for me. I saw your mother in her kitchen and your father bending over his stamps. This piece will stay with me for a long time.
I know that wish. My mother's Mom died when she was 13, her Dad when she was 19. I knew the facts but she could/would never talk about them or her feelings. I would love to sit down with her for a day and really talk.