Yesterday was the old man’s birthday. He would have been 93. In May, it will have been seven years since he died. It doesn’t get easier, it just gets farther away. I miss him every day. I hear his voice in my head every day. I hear his advice. I heed his advice. The nurse practitioner for my mother called me yesterday, just to tell me what I already know: that Mummy is on the downside of the bell curve and declining. She’s been switched to soft foods. She’s losing weight. She’s not in pain, nor is she of this world, really. I am so glad that Daddy never saw her like this: it would have killed him.

My SisterGirlCousin went to see Daddy yesterday and lay a stone on his grave. She says that she let him know she was standing in for me. I’m sure he understood.