A delivery of flowers

occurred across the road yesterday.
It was an ominous but not unexpected sign that something had happened. Yes, it has.
I have just spoken to my neighbour, back from her early morning run. She came quietly across the road and asked how we were.
   "More to the point," I said, "How are you?"
   "Coping. Mum passed away on Sunday."
The news was no surprise. I am just thankful that S.... was able to go and see her mother in New Zealand. I wish she had been able to be there at the end, that she could be there now and give her grandparents the comfort they need on losing their daughter. They are almost the same age as the Senior Cat, an age where they should be able to depend on their children for the help they need. They should not be burying a child.
S... has had time - but not had time. She was expecting her mother's death and, as a doctor, knew it was inevitable.
    "It's still a shock," she told me.
Of course it is. 
I knew, from conversations with S....and her husband M...., that the end was near. I  have been making S... something, making something because flowers die too. I have made her a small shoulder shawl the colour of the common yellow daffodils. The ends need to be sewn in. I'll do that this morning and then leave it for her. 
It's the hug I can't give her right now.