It was this day five years ago that I heard my mother’s last words to me. She was in hospital, having had a stroke shortly after being told that my father (to whom she had been married for 60 years) was dying.
She lingered in a deep, deep sleep for just four and a bit days after the stroke and it was on the evening of the third day that she last spoke to me. I was holding her hand and told her that our son, Harry, had sent his love. She opened her eyes, squeezed my hand and said just three words in fading tones ~ LOVE, Love, love …
I wasn’t with her when she died but it matters hugely to me that the word Love was the last one that we would share.
She was a woman who truly knew the meaning of the word Love ~ and absolutely cherished nature in its broadest senses. I couldn’t but think of her when I took this photograph of the trees on the road to The Pier in Tramore the other evening.