My husband Andy’s wooden rosary beads are descending into the grave on top of the tiny white coffin. And I want to shout, “Stop!” Grey clouds move in, turning off the weak
When Ellie said to me, “I suppose it’s too late to do anything about it,” I replied, “I don’t want to do anything about my baby.” No, I didn’t want to kill
This morning, as I was driving into town, I noticed that the trees that border the main road are shrugging off their autumn leaves, exposing their winter bones. Time is marching on.
As I stand in our back garden, hanging the clothes on the washing line, I listen to the laughter drifting out of our family room window. My girls are rearranging furniture, spreading
Imogen hunts through the top drawer of the tall chest that stands in the hall by our front door, looking for our hymn books. She finds the old red Living Parish books, held together
I’m driving alone, on my way home from town, early in the day. As I pass through the rock cutting tunnel on the narrow road that winds into our village, I plan
Nora pulls me along the side of our house, under the melaleuca trees, straight towards our garden gate. I stand on tiptoe and lift the latch, and the dog pushes ahead, barely
Yesterday, my husband Andy said, “What shall we do for Good Friday?” and I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know. Say some prayers? Read the readings?” “Do you want to
It’s the second Monday in June. The queen says (in her very posh voice), “Chef, please bake me a cake! It’s my birthday in Australia today.” Some weeks later, the queen says
I open my eyes, and I immediately realise that nothing has changed overnight. There is still a huge ache in my chest, and one all-consuming thought in my mind: Thomas. Although it
From my diary: 19th March This morning at Mass, the first hymn was On Eagle’s Wings, which was the hymn we sang at Thomas’ funeral, as we processed to his burial site.
Yesterday, we buried our baby. Today, I am kneeling on the ground beside my son’s grave, tears streaming down my face. I thrust aside the mountain of funeral flowers, and then I