Plans and preparation. No matter how much thought or planning goes into in idea or an event circumstances can, and often do, conspire to amend and change the outcome. When we were in Wells last Saturday in the chapel of the Bishops Palace a lectern had been placed to invite those who wished to be remembered on All Saints Day to have their names read out at noon today. I entered my mum's name as today is the 1st Anniversary of her death. It seemed coincidence, it seemed the right thing to do and this was to be my planned post for the day.
However this morning I found myself in Weston General Hospital. I wasn't the patient but Julie having slipped and fallen on a client's steps yesterday was in pain. We therefore booked ourselves into A&E for a check up and as it turns out after a X-Ray she was given the all clear after just over two hours, nothing broken thankfully.
We got back from the hospital just before noon. I popped into the office at home and catching my breath sat quietly thinking about Olga Pollard Dawes' (nee Johnson) name being read out in the chapel. It was not the relaxed dignified remembrance of my mother that I'd planned, more a chaotic squeeze in five minutes if I can. Which was apt in many ways as mum was always rushing about, always late for things, lived very much in the moment and could change plans at the last minute to the sometimes annoyance of myself and my father. There's possibly an apt and profound philosophical discussion to be had of my mad-dash rememberence of mum today, but to be honest it's just another day. I remember her every day and that's what counts. Planning to remember her at a certain time seems somewhat irrelevant now.
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