Mum slept all day Wednesday. I called my brother, Mum’s best friend and my aunt and uncle to let them know how things stood. My brother and Mum’s best friend decided not to come, under the circumstances.
My Auntie Barb and my Uncle Ron, both in their eighties, already busy supporting their youngest daughter Lynne whose husband is also dying of cancer, dropped everything and drove for nine hours to see Mum.
We expected them at 10.30pm. I called the innkeeper every hour until 1am. I slept fitfully from 3am till 5am. No news. I imagined my aunt and uncle dead in a ditch. I called Jeremy and cried.
They were already safe in bed at Andy’s Guest House, of course. Ron was scathing of my concern.
Ron: “Why on earth would I be dead in a ditch?”
When they came in to see Mum, she woke up and wept for joy at the sight of them.
Mum: “I can’t believe you came all this way to see me. It’s so kind of you. I’m speechless.”
Ron: “Obviously not actually speechless.”
We had good hours after that, until Mum realized that her best friend had cancelled her flight. She cried out in pain.
Oh reader, I hope you never have to feel what I felt then.
I called Hazel, who instantly rebooked her flight. She should be here within the hour.
Auntie Barb, saying goodbye to Mum: “Thank you for taking such good care of my little brother. It’s been a wonderful life, hasn’t it?”