The last day

Ann Winning

The last words my mother ever spoke were a lie and the last thing to which she responded was not my voice or my touch, but the sound of her dog barking. Nevertheless I remember the day with sadness, but no bitterness.

When I first woke at 6am, I knew she was dying. Her breathing, which I monitored on a baby alarm, had changed, which is probably what had wakened me. It sounded as if something had broken, something which was unlikely to be fixed. However, it also sounded pain free, and very much asleep. 6am - Do you ring for an ambulance to take a 95 year old woman who is probably dying on a seventy mile journey to the nearest hospital? It seemed a bad idea, and I decided against it, going back into a listening sleep for another hour. ... (continues)