On words and associations...

[annwfyn]

I had an odd experience this evening.

As I walked out of the office this evening I went past a stall selling 'The Evening Standard', with a new headline on it.

'George Best slips away'.

Now, I don't know George Best. I'm not a football fan. It shouldn't affect me in any way, but suddenly I found myself standing on the pavement in tears. It was nothing to do with George Best, really. Nothing to do with him. Just words and memories...

I remember...

It's 4 am and I'm in bed and suddenly there's a knocking at my bedroom door. My father's voice from outside.

"Sally, it's your mum. She's slipping away."

Then I'm up and stumbling around in the dark and trying to climb out of bed over eladriell, and I think I might have fumbled for my dressing gown for a minute which is silly because why do I need it to go downstairs?

And then I'm downstairs, going into the study where Mum's hospital bed has been set up for the last month or more and my sisters are standing next to her bed in tears and Dad says "she's slipped away." And all I can see is that her mouth is hanging open, and I don't know why that bothers me, but it does. She looks like she is sleeping, and Helen and Kate are crying already and I can't because it just doesn't seem to have sunk in yet.

She's slipped away

The weird thing is that I didn't cry that day at all. I remember being manic, obnoxious, angry, all over the place. I didn't even cry at Mum's funeral, although it was a close thing when I went up into the pulpit to talk, but I didn't cry. I don't think I cried much over Mum's death, for months, if not years. And now, years later, a set of words will set me off.

Weird.

All very weird.