First Impressions

My late Uncle Charlie’s description of Auntie Chrissie in hospital seems all too fitting for my Mum. "She was like a wee rag doll." My mother looks very small indeed in the bed, her head covered by a big mask that is pushing oxygen into her lungs. She is surrounded by friends that used to work with her in different jobs.

Seeing my shape she manages to say through the mask, "I knew you’d come."

"Of course." is all I can manage.