The farewell
She had to see a doctor once a month, uphill most of the way,
"When I'm grown up I'll buy you a car so you don’t need walking there
She smiled, patted my head knowing well I was
not practical or very smart.
I was forty-five and mother was eighty when I finally bought a car,
an automatic, easy to handle but I had no license. For that, I needed to
learn many new rules

Ok, carried her down from the second floor flat, she was feather
light hoped we would not get stopped
So we drove to the coast, she wanted to see the sea.
Down a narrow lane and I was worried how to turn and drive back.
On the way home we stopped at a café, we drank coffee and had a
creamy cake each and everyone was kind to us.

Mother was tired, went to bed, in the night she called me, She wasn't well:
"drive me to the hospital," she said.
I did. the staff took over, they gave her a room of her own,
I sat by the bedside, looked at her folded hands; like a sparrow's folded wings.
She closed her eyes - we didn't speak
and after a while when the sparrow didn't flutter I knew she had died,
for a long time I sat there pretending it had not happened;
mother looked so at ease I was glad that she had had a good death.