It comes to us all

I felt grief when Dad died. When “mother” passes…well, let’s just say I have a bottle of fine Hungarian wine I’ve been saving for years, waiting to be opened in relief that the violent, hateful old hag can no longer hurt anyone.

Two Rooms Plus Utilities

I knew the second that I heard his voice, that what I was about to hear wasn’t going to be good news. In fact, the last time I heard from him was back in April 2014, but you can’t mistake my little brother, he’s the only one of us with an Aberdonian accent. We’re not exactly a close family and the contact between us has been sporadic over the past 30 odd years. That didn’t stop it hurting when I heard the words I knew were coming. “Mums dead”.

It doesn’t matter how much bad feeling, pain or even time has passed since you last saw them, the death of a parent hurts. It was just the same when my brother phoned me in 2012 to convey a similar message about my Father and our relationship, had been a thousand times worse, than the one I had with my Mother. For…

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