Thursday, 29 July 2010

Funeral for a friend

Last night The Boy returned home briefly...I picked him up from school and then got completely battered by a tornado of tales from his week in Germany...from his Facebook posts I knew he'd been having fun...but really it was just a party from the day he arrived until the moment he departed....he had a ball, of course! There was beer, there were girls aplenty.

We had to do some washing because he today he's off again to spend a few days in London with his Grandmother in Wales, Uncle and sister. I started to put clothes in the washing machine, and felt it sensible to check there was nothing in the pockets of his jeans...I had just enough time to recognise what was in the little pocket before they were snatched away from me. I know what was in there; he knows what was in there. I think he knows that I know what was in there...although he may be in denial. But it is the way of the parent that sometimes it's best to say nothing. There will be a time and a place to talk about such things. But last night wasn't it.

I'd have liked to spent longer with him, but he was tired (at least I assume that is why he was so hyper) and I had to leave early to go to a funeral this morning. I'd never met the person...I was going to support one of my best was his mother who had died from a combination of breast cancer and alzheimers. That's a pretty evil combination, and I'm sure that it was a relief when she passed away peacefully.

And selfishly, from my perspective, after a fairly hideous few weeks it's helped put life, the universe and everything back in perspective.