She rang me this afternoon in a bit of a panic, she was trying to find mum, and rang my phone number because it was listed under mums in her phone book. She didn’t know who I was, so I reminded her, and told her that mum is on holidays. She didn’t sound too good on the phone, so I offered to come over. She must have rung me six times in the time it took me to get there. A few times to try to convince me not to come (worried that the drive is too dangerous), once to ask me to get some corn on the cob for Cocky (which I couldn’t find for love nor money), once to ask me if I needed her to unlock the gate so I could park in the front yard (which she then forgot to do, so I parked around the corner outside the cemetery), and once more to tell me not to come.
I found out some interesting things. Apparently she now acknowledges that she used to model with Rita, that she went to parties, that she existed before she found the church. And apparently, she had musical talent. She had a lovely soprano voice, and took violin and piano lessons.
So there is musical talent in my family after all. It began and ended with Emily, but it is there.
Emily is coming to terms with the fact that she will have to leave her home, and live with her other son, Peter. There isn’t room for Cocky at Peter’s place, and she has asked me if I will take care of her. So sooner or later, we’ll be adding another member to the family.
The funeral is on Thursday.
Disco Knitter 