My dear brother

It's over three months since our mother slept away. Is she with you? I like to think so. Through the gloom of my sadness at losing the two of you so close together, I often glimpse a bright image of your sharing tea and cake. You are both smiling, relaxed. No sign of the mutually inflamed anxieties which often caused tetchy fireworks when we all met. She loved us though, our mother. I can say that now with absolute certainty. I hope you know it too. Perhaps she's even telling you, as she never could when she was alive.

As for me, I have become a one-pointed triangle. We were the Boardman trinity, we three. It was not easy or idyllic but we drew strength from the presence of each other, despite the impatient words, the accusing silences, the infuriating absences. I didn't realised how special that triplicate mini-family was to me. I miss you both; miss knowing you are there, your fundamental knowledge of me borne of those early days together.

I won't regret, for that would risk tainting my memories of you. But if I could change one thing, it would be the hours we spent discussing our maternal concerns. I believe now that  our mother lived the life she chose. She loved her home and the enduring security of her second marriage. She adored time with her family but latterly would  forfeit that if it meant leaving the house. She was happy and the life we fondly assumed she was missing, did not exist for her.

And she had earned the right to make those choices. She struggled to keep our wobbling trio together when it would have been easier to give up and return to the comfort of her childhood home.  

I am determined to remember the good moments. Family times, wry humour, the mock exasperation - how dare you insult the matriarch and on your feet Pearl - abundant food, the repressed but unmistakable pride.

I am lucky; I am loved, by a wonderful woman and more than my share of family and friends. Still I find myself missing our triptych. No-one knew me as well or as long as you two. Now I must draw strength from that knowledge and from the indomitable bond formed when we three faced the world together.  

Water therapy

Swimming in the sea is so affirming. I waddle penguin-like along the beach. Each ungainly step takes me closer to the moment of blissful plunging. I know no hesitation, have total confidence in the water which will bestow a grace and fluidity I can only dream of on land.
I do scream - you have to scream. This is after all, the North Sea and not the Mediterranean. Even after several weeks of locationally rare temperatures, it's cold. But once you've screamed and splashed about a bit you hardly notice.
I emerge tingling, reassure the vigilant Jack Russell and return to my clothes with the poetic motion of a prima ballerina.