Tuesday, 24 February 2015


It was a little over a month ago when I made a snap decision to attend the funeral of a long-time friend's 14-year-old son, who had committed suicide after battling depression for years.  That young man's picture remains on my desk as a reminder to be aware of what one's child might be going through.  It's especially difficult when our ADHD daughter drives me crazy and I wish I could somehow channel my late mother to get things under control.

This past weekend was the anniversary of my mother's death from cancer.  It has been five years and it still hurts like it was yesterday.  My parents' home remains unsold while my father now lives elsewhere; he once told me he can't bear to stay in the house any more because it haunts him.  He comes to the house only to check on it every week, and when I visit.  I'd happily move into the house myself but it's in an area where having a vehicle is essential - and neither my husband nor I drive.

The last time I visited the house I looked through some of Mom's scrapbooks filled with family photos and anecdotes, and came across a collection of poems that she clearly had intended to publish but never got the chance.  So I published it myself as an E-book in her honour.  It doesn't matter to me if it doesn't sell; what matters is that it's published, and it's out there for people to see.  That's what Mom would have wanted.

For the curious, here's the link:

1 comment:

  1. I am going to check out that book. I think it is beautiful that you published your mother's work. So sorry for your loss.