Each day ticked by slowly and, despite everything that Louise had been told, time did not make things better. Memories of her father jumped out at her from every surface she touched, every photo that she saw, every old family friend who pulled her into a sympathetic hug.
And then there was the funeral to plan, mostly through awkward Zoom meetings with her siblings, who were all far too argumentative to meet face-to-face. She had had to nag her daughter, Stephie, into showing her how Zoom worked, only to sit and watch them squabble about what colour napkins would be best for the wake.
But none of these hardships came close to the worst thing that Louise had had to endure since her father's passing. No, the worse thing, by far, was dealing with her mother. Not because of her crippling sadness. Grief would have been easier to handle than out and out delusion.
For she had no choice but to assume that it was delusion, or some other form of insanity, that was to blame for all this. Why else would her mother be tearing the house apart? What was this ridiculous 'quest' that she was always babbling about on the phone?
There was no way that grey-haired geriatric old Jim who, in recent years had only left the house to go birdwatching, had secretly left behind a legacy of intrigue for his doddery, walking-frame-equipped wife and his busy, bustling middle-aged children to unravel. Perhaps the idea was a desperate appeal to youth and excitement after the sudden jolt of her husband's passing. Perhaps it was a distraction from the pain. But whatever it was, it was still mental. What was she really expecting? Some insane Lord of The Rings style adventure, complete with dragons and elves? What she needed was a healthy dose of reality.
The trouble was, Louise didn't seem able to get that across on the phone. Perhaps, she puzzled, it would be best if her mother came to stay with her until she seemed a little more stable. But she had a job, four kids and husband and two kids to worry about. Could she manage another burden?
A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart. She shouldn't think that way about her mother. The woman had spent the best years of her life running around after her. But then was when they were both young and everything had been golden. Now, her father's death had left her mother frail and her painfully aware of her own age. Winter was drawing in around them both.
