MUM'S LAST TRIP

Mum crosses the Alps to keep and appointment, after that?
Who knows.

Monday

I was so thrilled this morning when I woke up and the sun was shining, well, you can’t guarantee good weather this time of year. I got dressed and crept  into mum’s room, she was still asleep, bless her, must have been all that sherry she had last night - only joking. I opened the curtains and the sunlight flooded her room. I thought I’d give her a few more moments in her own bed so I went into the kitchen to prepare her medicine.

We left about ten which was quite good really considering. The roads were very busy, well, it is Monday after all. On the way to the ferry it was so strange seeing everybody about their business, not giving us a second glance, well, why should they? It just seemed so normal. Mum enjoyed the trip, I know she did, after all these years it doesn’t take much, a nod and a wink can speak volumes, you know. Other people think I’m daft. They look at her in her chair staring blankly ahead and there am I saying she wants the plain white, thank you, not the seeded, the bits get stuck under her plate and guess who has to sort that out. I do feel like a bit of a ventriloquist, I do, except I’m more likely to sit on her lap than she is to sit on mine. But I do have this fantasy that I throw my voice and mum says all sorts of wicked things to complete strangers, it does make me laugh. Well, you’ve got to have a laugh sometimes. Still she’s happy, I think, some of the time. 

Tuesday

Well, what a treat we’ve had! No sooner were we on the ferry last night than we were ushered, I don’t think that would be too strong a way of putting it, yes, ushered to our rooms. We were treated like royalty, the service was impeccable. Mum didn’t eat anything which was a shame but I shared with her every mouthful. Not literally, no that would be silly, what I mean is I gave a running commentary of the meal which was superb, in fact better than the meal we had at the Berni Inn, Twickenham, that time. That was before mum took a turn for the worse; she’s never been her old self, never will be. I would like to say that she was up bright and early this morning, but that would be a lie. It takes us a good hour to get ready in a morning, nearly two if she’s in a bit of a mess. There is a part of me though that still dreams it’s her when there’s a knock at the door. Funny, isn’t it, the way the mind works, I hear someone walking up behind me in the Co-op and I turn round about to say,  ’O! Hello darlin’, thought I’d lost you’. Of course it’s not but it does give me a turn and then it all floods back, the reality I mean, and there she is in her chair. We must have been told a thousand times there’s no hope, but even now some mornings I awake with a kind of childish fantasy that maybe today she’ll just look at me, just really look at me, as if she knows who I am. Dream on, says I.

Wednesday

Not a good day so far. The coach is not to mums liking. It’s a bit too cramped and there’s several children that keep running up and down the aisle. It’s very annoying, I’m surprised they allow it. In fact, here’s a confession, I did stick my foot out in time to trip one of them up, but the little bugger jumped straight over it, excuse my French. I felt so guilty afterwards. I suppose if we’d had another child I might feel different, too late now of course. It’s been too late for a long time. 

Mum slept all afternoon. She made a bit of a mess during lunch but I think she got some down, not really the kind of food she likes, it’s a bit rich for her. It’s a bit rich for me, and that glass of wine, never again thank you the room was going round and round, it’s only just stopped.  

Thursday

It’s no good I can’t sleep, I’ve been backwards and forwards all night, so I’m watching a movie to take my mind off things. I haven’t the foggiest what’s going on, it’s in French, well, I think it’s French. Mum’s asleep in the next bed. She used to snore and keep me awake but her breathing is so weak these days I have to keep checking just to see if she’s still alive, which is funny really, considering. It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, as they say, at least I can get a good night’s sleep, when I can get any at all. I think I’ll get her medicine ready for the morning, it’s getting low but there should be enough. The coach leaves at nine this morning. Mum is really looking forward to seeing the Alps tomorrow. We shall sing the William Tell Overture. I hope it’s  a nice day for her.

Friday

What a day, what a journey. We seemed to climb up those hills for ever, well mountains I suppose, up and up and then like we were on top of the world. I pointed out the snow to mum and the blue sky, the green hills and valleys, the little alpine flowers. I think she liked them best. We stopped for a while just inside Switzerland and some of us got out and I picked a few flowers for her. I opened her hand and she held them for a moment, then I wrapped them in some paper and put them on her lap where she could see them. She knows what they are, she’s a very good gardener you see, she’ll know the Latin names for them, when to plant them, and where. I wouldn’t know a daisy from a watering can. If we’d have had more time we’d have had our own garden, we could have had an allotment too and grown roses. I got one of the other passengers to take a photo, me and mum together, I hope it comes out. We’ll be at the hotel in an hour or so. 

Saturday

Blank.

Sunday. 

I’ve telephoned Michael to say I’ve decided to fly back with mum. Everything went exactly as planned yesterday. At ten thirty she was given a drink in a small paper cup, lifted it to her lips and managed to drink most of it, which was a surprise. After a few minutes she seemed to relax, it was if the pain was draining away, and she slept. Half an hour later the doctor, who was very nice, whispered, I thought very discreetly, that mum was dead. Just like that. I combed her hair and kissed her forehead, the way she used to kiss mine when we were just married. I placed her hands around the Alpine flowers and I said, ‘Goodbye Mum, love you’, but there was nobody there. Now I think of it there probably hasn’t been for some time. Her life had seemed to drain away like sand though a child’s fingers, one minute there, the next minute a bit more lost, and a bit more, till it was all gone. 

I keep wondering when she last saw me? I wonder what I was doing.