Here She Was

~ for you ~

~ for you ~

Today I find myself sitting on the desk, which used to me my mother’s desk, in my bedroom, which used to be my mother’s bedroom, looking out of the window into the garden, which used to be my mother’s garden.

Actually, to be correct, the desk used to be mine when I was a child. It’s an antique cute little desk on which I used to do my home work. It was, like this one, facing the window. It was, like this one, looking out into the garden. Déjà vue!

I wonder what my mother’s life looked like and – again – I cannot understand what brings a human being, delicate and beautiful like my mum, to leave life prematurely. I know, I don’t have to understand it.

I see the plants, trees and flowers she chose to have in her garden peaking out of the snow. That’s what her garden must have looked like the last time she saw it…

Exactly a year ago my parents were preparing to come to Australia to visit and see their 3 months old granddaughter. They were also preparing to visit us, grieving parents, not knowing what to expect and where we were at. I wonder what was going on for them not being able to support us through the loss of Amya, not being together as a family, not even having seen their other granddaughter. And I guess that very likely her own loss would have been remembered, whether consciously or unconsciously. The baby girl that she lost…

Here she was, here I am. Remembering. Consciously.

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