Time moves differently for me now.  I seem to, for the first time in my life, grasp the passing of time. These few days in middle July are so cold and challenging.  I can’t get warm even with layers on.  This is another one of those weeks in which much has to be achieved.  Today being 18th July I have more documents to sign.  I feel like those Internet (apps) downloads which connects but says “download pending”. Everything in my life at this point in time is ‘pending’.  Nothing is ‘done’ except my mothers passing, that gives me clarity of thought and with that hopefully a direction.  I search aimlessly through the house for her presence and I need to talk.  I realise now I must have driven my mom bonkers with all my talk.  It is only in this silence that I understand how much I talked. The aloneness is a great burden.  Beth always said: “you will be alright because you have many interests, your embroidery, your Art, and your writing.  And you will have to sustain the house and  that will take effort.”. The thing is Mom…..I have no inclination to do any of the things that held my days together when you were with me. 
Tomorrow being Wednesday I have arranged for the Lapa to be repaired since the thatch is deteriorating and I am so stressed for this days work with people here.   On Thursday I may be able to arrange to have the two large trees properly felled.  The maple tree at the gate was trimmed by the garden services.  Those Mozambicans have absolutely not mercy on nature.  They massacred the limbs of the tree and it hurts to look at it.  I remember the day you so lovingly planted it.  Little did we know it was going to be so massive.  I remember too many things and it hurts all the time.   I try to push the thoughts from my mind and I don’t succeed.  I am slowly buying sand to replace the sand these garden services rake away with vengeance each Monday when they come.  I am letting them not come some Mondays because the property can’t handle it anymore. They have totally denuded the flower beds and the lawn is disappearing.  Anyone reading this blog would say….well change to another services….we all know why one does not easily change such services in South Africa.  They break things and just leave it. 
But….these are trivialities to the crux of my life at present.  It comes back to me the one poem that I remember so absolutely well.  My passion for the Brontës has never faded and I still read Jane Eyre once a year.  Wuthering Heights too. The poem is written by Emily Brontë
The old Stoic.

Riches I hold in light esteem;
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn: 

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, ‘Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty! ‘ 

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore;
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure. 

will I continue to have the courage to endure?

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