I have no idea what to write, yet I have so much inside wanting to burst. The call I was dreading, came 5 minutes ago. My sweetheart Mamma just passed away, and I’m beside myself… numb… to the core. A large part of me is glad that she’s no longer trying to hold on, in pain, in difficulty.

The next few days are going to be difficult, and I don’t envisage many writings here, save for perhaps an update on my travels to England for the funeral, to be with my family.

My love goes to my mother, whose strength over the last 2 days has astonished me - I am so proud of you, and I know your mother is too.

Andy, I love you - I miss you, brother - I’ll see you soon.

To the rest of my family, my aunts and uncles, cousins and nephew, she’ll be just fine now… and I know for sure she’ll always be watching over us.

Finally, Bruce, you’re a pillar of strength in my mother’s life, and I cannot describe to you how much respect and love I have for you… for your support.

Mamma, I will always love you, and remember you - rest in peace.

I got a text message on Wednesday at the office, my mother wanted to talk. My stomach turned, I just knew something was wrong. Upon calling her, she rattled off what at first I think my ear drums ignored… after the proverbial “what!?”, she repeated, alas, what I knew I’d just listened to - my dearest Grandmother’s health had taken a southern nose dive. Listening intently and soaking up the news, I slumped in my chair and shook my head, slowly… forehead supported by my left hand.

She has pneumonia, and when you’re in your 70’s, that’s never a reason to break open the champagne… I was worried.

It’s now Sunday afternoon, about 3:15 in the PM, and I haven’t slept properly since mid week - especially when I had a conversation on Saturday saying that they’d taken her back into ICU with severe breathing problems.

[flashback]

If I’m ever asked about my childhood, and what events I am most fondest of, they invariably involve my “Mamma”. From spending every weekend at her house and the Sunday dinners we used to have (if you’re British, you’ll no doubt know what I’m referring to), to our Summer vacations in the same cottage - 26 Havlock Road, Great Yarmouth - it still amazes me how I remember that freaking address! I remember her setting up the snooker table on the dining table for my brother and I to play in the living room, and if it was a sunny day, we’d move the setup outside to the garden.

[back on track]

Her time in ICU yesterday wasn’t pleasurable for her… she’s scared, tired, and according to my dear Mother, “just had enough”… the doctor asked her if the worst were to happen, would she want to be resucitated, to which she answered “no”. That hit me in the heart like a 10-ton truck. What the effing hell can I do, but sit here 4,000 miles away from my family and shit myself each time my cell phone rings.

The last couple of days were hard - resigning myself to the fact that she’s very poorly… and today, trying to come to terms with the notion of never seeing her alive again. The worst piece of news to come my way today was when she asked the doctors to take her back to the general ward, as she was too tired to keep fighting what she knew in her heart was going to happen - and she just wanted to be rid of the tubes and oxygen masks in the ICU - to just lie down in peace, with the help of a tiny oxygen mask and the company of my family.

I’m dreading the call today… I just have a gut feeling, it’s going to be today… and it’s taking every ounce of my soul to keep it together.

I love you Mamma, as do we all… my memories of you are so amazing - be proud in knowing that if it weren’t for you, none of us would be where we are right now.

My thoughts are with you… I hope you’re comfortable.