What was she like, my
mother? The older I get the more I wonder at the sort of person she was. I miss
her more now, and I’m 63, than I ever did when I was 20. Is it perhaps that I
realise the potential for the relationship, as the relationships with my own
children continue to develop and change?
I was fifteen when she died. From what I remember about that age I was a
normal obnoxious teenager; more interested in, and influenced by my peers, than
my parents. I want to tell her story, and Dad’s. I want my grandies to know a
little about these two special people, not just the bare facts of when and
where they were born and died.
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