Saying goodbye is never painless. But today closing up her old house. Where I spent my childhood so long ago. It is dragging me into the doldrums. Each room full of her sweet life. I find her books her souvenir box. Locks of her childrenβs hair. Christening medals. I go into my boyhood bedroom For the last time. It still contains my magazines and a book I read as a child. The box in momβs room is full of her clothes. Ready for the Goodwill. Then I packed the last of the old familiar dishes in the kichen. Solid stoneware that carried my sustenance for all my younger life. In the back of the cupboard Moms china cup and saucer With English roses on it. The one she used to drink her morning tea in all of her life. On the rim a single tea leaf remained. That had once touched her lips. That was when the grief hit me Like never before.