This is a very odd time of year for me.
A long time ago on a Mayday bank holiday weekend my mother died. It is an odd memory blurred and vivid at the same time. I remember the clarity with which I knew that my sister and I were summoned home because she was dead or dying, I remember the texture of her skin and the sight of the Dr. signing her death cert while she still drew the oxygen from the tank. I remember her chest slowing its rise and fall to nothing. But I don’t remember the time of day or any words at all. For years I have had a few drinks for her memory and wondered at what has passed and changed
On the other hand W & I chose MayDay for our legal wedding ceremony in fine pagan tradition, and to try to lift the mood to spring and new beginnings. It is a fantastic opportunity to go for a picnic or out gallivanting with fire and sex.
Since then W’s Uncle and an Aunt of mine have also both died around the same weekend. – It makes it hard..
And thats just trying to ride the rollercoaster of the first week or so.