Yesterday a lady I know buried her mother.
Z is a Muslim lady and her mother who had been unwell and in hospital on and off for a long time had died at 2:20am the day before.
She organised a funeral on her own in a day.
Earlier this year Z broke her wrist and had a heart attack.
Z is a single mother. She has 2 severely Autistic sons aged 5 and 8.
She had a chest infection for weeks but was too busy to go and get the medication.
Her father is also unwell and in and out of hospital.
There is nothing easy in her life.
I remember one day she rang work and asked if everyone was okay because she’d had a bad dream and wanted to make sure that we were all safe.
Every time I see her she smiles and asks how my family are.
She gives of herself when surely there must be nothing left to give.
I look at her and I am stunned at her ability to cope.
I look at her and I am so glad that I am not her.
I look at her and I feel guilty for complaining about anything, ever.
I am in awe of her strength and now she has lost her mother.
She has one less person to talk to and one less person to look after.
I imagine that she will cry her tears alone while her boys are sleeping. Then she’ll get up in the morning and get on with it. Because it’s the only thing she can do.