Today is the anniversary of my mum's birthday. She would have been 82 years old. Hard to believe. Hard to believe she had been gone 25 years. I recall her telling me tales of the family's history. I recall her taking me to places she loved. I recall she was a true bard and the children would gather around her at family reunions and beg her to to tell them stories of our past. I recall she was often too sad, suffering from manic depression left untreated.
I recall her life ended too young.