Thinking about a friend who is 80 on Wednesday, I started to think about my parents. I worked out if my mother was still alive she would be 100 year old and my father would be 110. How futile is this. When do we stop saying if so and so was still alive they would be such and such?
Because our parents are in our hearts, Caran. My Mum died 19 years ago, but I still want to ring her up and tell her about something that's just happened, or something that would make her laugh. It will never go away; nor would I want it to.
Unrelated really, but what I find myself doing of late is looking at mums with their children and their energy, and realising my energy is sapping away. In other words, feeling my age.
If my great great great great grand father John Kempster born in 1810 (went to prison twice for bankruptcy - he run a oyster house refreshment bar and a coffee house) was still alive he would be old.
Last Saturday would have been his 219th birthday.
If my great great grandfather Walter was still alive (architect , married 3 times and went to prison for bigamy for 22 months) born in 1850 he would be 169 in August :-)
It would have been my dad's 106th birthday on June 7th - and, yes, I remembered it. I dreamed about my mum the other week and had a bit of a shock when I awoke, ready to tell her something, and remembered that she died in 1990. Parents are too important to just bury and become a bit of nostalgia - they are a part of you.
BA for goodgoalie surely. Very well put gg and I feel exactly the same. My beloved Dad would have turned 91 on Sunday and Mum 88 on the 10 June - I suspect I will do these sums in my head for some time to come.