She was only 46. A single-mother with two children. Her death was sudden. She had cancer but they’d been trying for a new treatment. There was a hope. Small. But it was something. It was never administered. She went into a hospice and died three days later. I met her once. She was a child then. Earnest. Open. I imagine his grief.
I dreamt of them both last night. There was a big party. He was exuberant. Talking of having a personal-trainer. She was there too. A Norwegian. Bossy. His daughter spoke to me, though I cannot remember what we talked of. There was a joyfulness of the event, that happened inside and outside, where there was big marquee. What the celebration was, I don’t know. There was no grief. No one had died. No one was lost. Not that beautiful daughter.
I weep for them all.
