My mother died six years ago today. We’re going to brunch in commemoration, though I’m not sure I’m going to bring the Travel Scrabble (as I would have done if it had been Mum and I going).

She was an amazing lady. Realistically, I don’t know how I could ever turn a blog post into something worthy of her wonderfulness, so instead I will talk about how, at my grandmother’s funeral (coincidentally, The Elder Matriarch would have been 101 today – yes, her 95th was a terrible day), I was taken aback by something on the wall of St Timothy’s church and suddenly felt like I was in Back to the Future.

None of these people have faded out of the photo, though the dude on the right obviously had no friends as he was standing separately. (You can click through to a larger version.)

Third from the left in this photo of the confirmation class of 1959-60 is the scowly, eyerolly face of my own adolescence! Okay, my nose is different and I was far less dedicated to trying to get my (similarly) ramrod straight hair to curl, but that’s pretty much my face. Through my tears, I laughed, because Mum was there, and is here, in my face, always.

Here’s a song that played at her memorial service. It was chosen by my aunt (her sister), who said that whenever she heard it, she thought of Mum. And although I don’t remember my mother ever listening to it, it fits her pretty much to a tee.

And then we played this, because it fit too. 🙂