Here I am sat in your room surrounded by bits of paper covered in your handwriting wondering what tomorrow will bring . The house has been cleaned from top to bottom I can only presume we're expecting a visit from the Queen. The crystal glasses are out and positioned just so, the special plates, cutlery and cups are laid out ready to go. The itinerary checked and doubled checked the questions asked and the arrangements made everyone is ready. The chapel is decorated and the music now chosen has been placed on disc ready to welcome you and to wave you goodbye. The world outside is being attacked by a helter-skelter wind as though mother nature is racked with anger and pain. My brain, ever the sarcastic comedian, has placed the sound track of "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush in my imagination of the final event. A heavy weight hangs in the house thick with the anticipation of tomorrow's sadness whilst we busy ourselves to avoid thinking. Tired souls, weary of the continual stream of memories, the nights of broken sleep, troop on with various chores. My thoughts turn to a shy Tracy Chapman walking out on stage at the Nelson Mandela concert singing along side Peter Gabriel. I remember the sheer delight across your face as we watched with relaxed pleasure at that perfect moment in time "don't give up"
You always taught me to choose music to pick up my mood, to sing it out to listen to the words the story being told, across all genres. You sat in stony silence the first time you heard me play the piano that you bought for me so many songs so many memories. Out on deliveries driving around singing along, days out picking the albums for the trip, the hours spent recording from the radio. Its music that I will carry as my memory, the legacy of you so whatever happens tomorrow it's just one day, what will be will be
Anna
18th November 2015