So yesterday was a wonderful day. We were all so happy and Mummy was also happy to be out, to be free, to forget that she was ever ill. And very quickly, today is different.
When i texted her in the middle of the day i felt something was wrong, because usually when she’s feeling good her reply would be emphatically good. Today she just said “I’m ok”, which usually means it’s nothing to be too worried about, but it’s not that great either. So by the time i got home she was drinking hot milo in the afternoon to try and get that feeling of bloatedness away by making herself burp. She seemed ok, though, but the content of her chat had become different again: my grandfather’s latter years of life, the years leading up to his death, the necessary decisions she had to make, her investments, the money we’ve spent, how much is left, what’s needed, what she wants for the future.
She had very little over dinner, but it could partly be due to the food too…not quite her sort of thing today, but certainly not quite her kind of appetite for these two weeks either. Then she went to sleep by 8.
i think when we were having the good day yesterday, we all knew that we must treasure that, because not every time would be that good. And i think as we sat and looked at one another today, each one not saying what we knew the others were also thinking about, we were in no way resentful, or upset, or disappointed even. Yes, we wondered if there was too much revelry yesterday and too little caution, but i think we knew too that we were just making the most of the day, the trip, the chance, and we’re just watching how things go today.
One Voice sang of God’s mercies renewed every day at service yesterday…and indeed they are. His compassions fail not, and we can always depend on His grace to get us through our days.
Do we believe it?
