When the phone rang at half two in the morning on Saturday I knew what it meant. The ring echoed down the years.
This week has been a rush down the rapids of organising Mary's mother's funeral. We've found somewhere really nice for the grave, and we're doing all the paperwork and the like. Registry offices are stifled places at the best of times, and sitting there waiting for the registrar was the drabbest half hour in a mostly drab few days.
Things have become a little easier, after last night's meeting with the officiant shed some light into things, along with the poem Mary's sister would like to read.
I just need to remember that I'm allowed to feel things too, that I can keep supporting Mary, while still grieving for both her mother, and my father.
At least spring has finally arrived.