I was transcribing my last interview and it is a rather tedious business, even though I do like to hear back the conversation I have had. It’s the writing out that’s humdrum. Anyway, I was flitting about, doing other things in between the scrawling and went on to Facebook. She’s blocked me but he is still there, not as my ‘friend’ I hasten to add, but nevertheless I could visit his page and that’s when I saw it. He is not cautious about sharing his family’s intimacy with the wider world. And at that moment I was glad of it. They were celebrating her first cycle ride without stabilisers. He was behind her, also on a bike, filming her whirling around and she was far ahead with the other one. Was he on a little bike too? She looked so slim, ethereal even, with her characteristic slow loping walk, and that slight curving in of her shoulders that always tried to lessen her height. I thought I was alright with it. That was until I called him. He was distracted, trying to tell me something and I just lost it. I threatened to hang up. He understood, as he always does. I didn’t know there was grief there. And it is, still there.
I drew her spoon later. I shall send it to her, along with other semi-precious things that she might like to keep, give to her daughter or even sell. That would be up to her.
