How strange it was that yesterday , I found myself thinking of Auntie Gladys
I posted a blog about her , months and months after I had done so before
She crept into my head like often did when she lived in the village,
Vital, and with purpose
Her milky blue eyes, smiling, unless you vexed her.
Aunty Glad’s daughter messaged me this morning. To tell me that Gladys had died yesterday just a couple of months short of 103. She commented on the timing of my post.
How strange it was.
I took a moment to take the news in.
How strange that a woman in her 80s and 90s could have on a middle aged gay man who was new to her village .
She was my friend from the day I met her and she accepted me and my husband without falseness so common in many long term churchgoers.
I remember her walking to the cottage to give me a wedding gift when she was 95 and added to it a bag of scones , fresh from the oven. Her head to one side,, looking smart in her winter coat she made her way back to her home after refusing a lift home .
“ I like to get my face to the sun” she explained “ God bless You Both”
I need to go to the village Hall now, it’s the soup and roll lunchtime
But I sat at the kitchen table for a short time
And had a small weep.
from Going Gently https://ift.tt/dtCEVAx
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