I am writing this blog in plastic gloves and apron and I am next to my beloved mum. I am hoping to stay here until she dies and Walk Her Home, as Ram Dass says.
Vicky is now very sleepy. I gently roused her when I arrived an hour ago. I was wearing a mask and at first, she didn't recognise me and said: "Can Josie not visit?" Then I pulled up my mask and we both cried as we were glad the hospice let me come. She was a bit muddled and thought I was taking her to watch a film. She smiled her lovely smile and was pleased when I let her go back to sleep.
I have brought a strange assortment of snacks grabbed from my cupboard, about six books and my knitting. Luckily I had a bath this morning and got some exercise planting more seeds on my plot, as I will not leave this room for several days now perhaps. I don't mind how long I am here for. I just need to be here, and for Vicky not to be alone.
I will ensure that Vicky sees all the beautiful cards and letters and emails if she opens her eyes again. I know she would want me to thank everyone. It is peaceful here. The weeping willow outside the window has now come into leaf and is a strange bright green. Daffodils wave about in the wind and Radio Four is on. It is a pleasant room with ensuite loo and basin. There is a spare bed. I feel more at peace than I have done in days.
Josie
Oh my. What a touching scene you describe, of you revealing your lovely face to Vicky. What a magical moment. From what you say, she knows the end is near and how lovely that her question, 'Can Josie not visit?' can be answered with a yes and your presence. I'm so pleased that you, and she, feel more at peace now. My heart goes out to both of you wonderful people. Love Fiona
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