My folks are here this weekend and we went up to Alveston to see Gert and Dord (my Grandmother and Uncle). I always find these visits very sad. When I was a kid, trips to 'Valhalla' - trips to my my Grandmother's house were treats indeed. We'd play all day; either by the water or in the water; make reed boats; row (as it boat...) ; and have picnics - all very Famous Five.
And now all the energy has gone - Gertie is 99 and half - living in a nursing home down the road, and my Uncle and the wallpaper are growing old together (although he's far more active than most people half his age). It's just that Gertie was always so ALIVE - full of fire and spirit. I feel as if part of me has gone - has withered on the vine.
Memento mori? Or rather 'what will survive of us is love'?