The remains of a life
I’ve been tidying Ma’s things out of the drawers and wardrobe in her room. Sunny and Ellis are returning, and they will go in there. It makes me ache with sadness. I am not looking forward to Sunny’s return, his bolshiness, swearing, demands. It is terrible for me to work my way through Ma’s personal belongings, knowing she’ll not be coming back, knowing that most of the stuff she will never use again. I tried on her shoes with a heavy heart. They were a little big, but they are elegant and I will keep them for a night when I can wear them without remembering. I spoke to her this morning. She sounded as though she had just woken, although it was 12. She sounded groggy, croaky, sad. I don’t tell her that I am taking her room apart. I don’t tell her that I have dared to try on the ring she left me and have found my finger is too fat for it. I don’t tell her that her shoes are a little big but they still look good. I have put aside a small suitcase of clothes that I think she still can use.