“Farewell," they cried, "Wherever you fare till your eyries receive you at the journey's end!" words by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Words that seem to grow in importance.
Next-door-but-one lives (d) a wonderful neighbour and friend. Until recently, a cancer survivor. Someone to cherish and not very long now someone to mourn deeply.
We've knitted and nattered, crocheted and 'put the world to rights for over a decade'. A survivor in many ways right from birth.
Even thro' her illness this summer, she'd phone for a chat. Whenever possible, we'd meet up for a cuppa and to share reminiscences. Both of us having lived thro' similar times, but I'm considerably younger. Similar no-nonsense approach to life and times.
Now, she's been in hospital for a while and typically, she's refused visitors. She's typically doing everything her way 'right to the end'.
Family estranged themselves from her for over 20 years.
Cynical me knows from experience, that when a death in a family is in the offing, all and sundry emerge like woodlice from under the skirting boards. Faining a closer kinship than ever was warranted; they gather like corvids at a feast on the remains.
My neighbour has planned to have her 'last laugh' for a number of years. None of the alleged kith and kin are to be allowed access in any way, nor to any monies in particular..
To quote the Window Cleaner, "They always take the best ones".