Around this time 11 years ago my mother was suffering with terminal breast cancer, she didn't have long left. At the time I was only a wee lad, not even seven years old, so my dad tried to spare me the pain as long as he could even though he knew he had to eventually. She had the signs for a long time, long before I knew that she was going to leave us but because I was so young and naive I had no idea why my mum was bald! (I thought it was funny at the time) Eventually my dad broke the news to me and as you could imagine I was devastated. I cried and cried, and pleaded but it was to no avale. My mother was dying and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
On the 13th of September 2001 it happened, mum left us for good. From then on I just felt numb for a while, distant from my dad and some other relatives including my Grandfather. I don't remember much after that appart from crying to my dad late a night when I couldn't sleep.
Of course this was two days after 9/11 and years later I realise that hundreds of people in New York were feeling exactly how I was; devastated, sad, lonely, like nothing else mattered in the world. I realise that there are things in life that we just can't change no matter how much we want to. We just have to pick ourselves up and get back on the saddle.
Que Sera, Sera.