I’ve just been writing a note to a friend, V, sympathising on the death of her mother. She (mother, not my friend) celebrated her hundredth birthday on 15th April and died on 21st April. Ill though she had been, she managed to hang on for her big day and, considerate in the way we mums are, had no intention of either missing or spoiling the party.
I hope V will, now, be able to learn to relax again. She is always so busy, practically runs her village church single-handed and has been coping by taking on more and more, unable to delegate or accept help, efficiently dealing with all crises and believing that if she takes any time at all off, all those spinning plates will just crash to the ground and with them will go her ability to cope.
Does that sound a bit heart-felt? It’s okay, I got over it.