Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

My Mother And My Father

We had to pick my mother up off the floor yesterday morning; she'd fallen while moving between her bedside commode and the bed and couldn't get up again. She wasn't badly injured- and by now she'll have forgotten it ever happened.

My father turned up in my dreams last night- looking young and with a shine around him. He apologised for not being in a position to help more.

Only he said, "We" not "I"- as if he were speaking for my mother as well as himself.

When he makes these appearances I never recognise him as dead.
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