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Monthly Archives: July 1995

212

I had never seen my mother with her natural hair colour until that day. They were white, completely white. Her eyes were red from having cried for days. The moment she saw me she stood up and walked towards me. I don’t remember who else was around, I couldn’t detach my eyes from her and her from me… I suppose. It was 9 years ago and I don’t have a very good memory.
Dad had died 3 days before and they had been franticly searching for me (they thought I was in Colmar when actually I had come back home, at Besancon, to attend a meeting at the University).
Mum was looking at me and I didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t want to cry, because if I did God knows when it would end. She didn’t need that, my sister, my brother and I were there to support her.
Father was lying on a refrigerated bed, as if he was asleep. The colour of the skin was evidence enough he would never wake up.
My sister, my brother in law and their 2 daughters were waiting. My sister was in tears and her younger daughter couldn’t understand then I overheard my sister telling her: even mums get to cry sometime.
My sister was at home when my brother and I arrived. We had laughed most of the time during the trip back to Britanny (something I’m not very proud of retrospectively). I don’t think you will continue laughing when you see mum. Indeed…
One of the men in charge of the burial walked to mum and told her it was time. She immediately stood up, gave a kiss to dad, took his hand and… stood still, in tears. You don’t separate easily a 34 years relationship.
These are the memories I have from when my daddy died.

 
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Posted by on July 5, 1995 in Uncategorized