The day my mother died. SJ Dodgson MJoTA 2013 v7n2 p0808
I always thought my mother could not die, would not die, and yet she did. Aug 8, 1995 in Sydney, Australia.
I was in New Jersey, so far away from her, my husband was in Germany, and my youngest was a baby, so what I did was make bread.
I made bread every day for the next 6 months. Some my 4 children ate, some I gave away, some I froze, some was just not edible.
I had never made bread before, and neither had she. But my mother was my doctor, was my healer, and she always knew how to heal me.
Now I am left with the memory of a thousand quotes, some good photographs and some horrible ones, and the letters she and my father wrote each other when he was a young British Army officer in Burma, India and West Africa.
