From September, though especially relevant today.

MrHistoire.com

In early May of my first year teaching my mum died of a pancreatic cancer which had spread like wildfire through her body, taking subsequent command of her lungs and thus her ability to breathe. She inspired me so much that I rarely, if ever, remember her with sadness. The funeral, a cremation of a gardener who wanted to rejoin the earth and who often had discussions with me on the fragility and precariousness of life, was followed by a celebration of everything that she held dear: music, food, life, her animals, her garden, her family and the friends she perhaps didn’t realise she ever had.

Her death was a shock, of course, and marked a turning point in my family’s history. My brother, two years my junior, began a very late search to find out who he really would be; my stepfather, not really knowing what to do with…

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