Until the clouds part............

My darling mother died in hospital in South Africa on Friday 30th May - she was 88 years old and immigrated to South Africa when she was 78.

In recent years, her hearing had deteriorated, though she refused to consider a hearing aid because "it would make me look old" but this meant that our telephone conversations were all but impossible and with the financial difficulties that Kevin and I were experiencing, the notion of flying out to spend time with her could never be contemplated.

She LOVED her life in South Africa; her pension from British Airways and her State Pension went far further than they would have done in the U.K. and the weather meant that the arthritis that plagued her back in England bothered her far less in the warmth of her adopted country. The medical care that she received was second to none, albeit that she had to pay for it, and the little house that she bought, with its pretty rose-filled garden, was easy to run and care for.

She had visited my brother in South Africa often and even went out to Tanzania when he was flying there but after my brother's daughter was born, Mum decided that she wanted to move there permanently. Africa had found its way into her heart and soul, and like so many other people, she yearned to return.

 I was heartbroken. Somehow I knew that I would never see her again.

 I missed our phone calls - we usually spoke at least twice a week and sometimes more often and I missed being able to drive over to her house at Leatherhead to see her but how could I deny her the chance to spend time with her only grandchild?

At first, she would write; then she would send emails, but as time went on and her hands became more arthritic, even the emails stopped. Her hearing loss meant that phone calls were frustrating for both of us and (in the end) terribly upsetting for her.

So when Mum finally passed away last week, part of me felt that I had lost her long before.

 My brother, who returned to the U.K. almost three years ago with my sister-in-law and niece, is in South Africa at the moment dealing with all the things that you have to deal with following a death. David, who became an honorary son to Mum and was her carer, companion and friend, is as bereft as we are - perhaps even more so because I think he really believed that Mum would recover from this latest illness as she had done so many times before.

Mum, you did exactly what you wanted to do. You had the courage to leave England and settle in another country at a time in your life when others are looking at retirement homes and you lived more in those ten years than some people do in their entire lives.

I haven't cried yet - not properly. I know that it will catch me when I least expect it - a piece of music, a line of poetry, something will bring it back to me that Mum is gone from the world.

And then I remember, that it is only until the clouds part, until a new dawn breaks, and we will be together again.

Love you, Mum.