Chapter 1: Life Changes

I have always believed in Heaven. I know that is where God has taken my mother and sister. Although I did not grow up in a particularly religious family, we believed in God. As children, we were all christened in a local church, in a small town located north of London, England. The choice of church was not based on any particular denomination, but, rather, on the location; closest to home was the best criteria. Even more conveniently located was the weekly Sunday school at the local school hall, which we were all encouraged to attend. Again, this was not based on any religious beliefs; instead, it gave my mother and father a small break on Sundays to prepare the family dinner without children “under their feet.”

My twin sister, Louise, and I were sandwiched in between Linda, our elder sister, and Scott, our younger brother. We all got along so well as children and this continued into our adult lives. There were many fun and happy “teasing” times. We bonded together through the trauma of our parents’ divorce when Mum became both “mother and father” to us.

I took a natural likening to Sunday school and continued to attend well into my late teens. My siblings happily abandoned Sunday school many years earlier, as soon as they were able to find a “better use” of this time by “having fun” with friends. Linda was always the funny one, with her quick wit and good sense of humor. She used to say that going to Sunday school gave me "Jesus points in the bank," and that, when I was older, I could "draw them out." At the time, I had no idea what she meant by this, but later, throughout our lives, if ever good fortune came my way, Linda would remind me that I was using my “Jesus points.”

Being five years older than “the twins” as we were called, Linda was like a second mother to us, especially during the time that our real mother, after her divorce, suffered from severe depression and could not cope with life, nor her family. Linda took us to school, prepared our meals, and helped us with our homework. On Sunday mornings, Linda took us for walks and played a game with us in which we had to memorize all the street names so “you can always find your way home,” she’d say. By the time Linda was 21, she set off on her journey “to see the world.” When she came home, we sat and listened with great joy to all her adventures.

I, too, left home and moved to San Francisco to begin a new life with my husband. San Francisco is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and my family visited me often. My brother, Scott, moved to Australia to experience life “down under,” and Louise remained close by to Mum, living in our hometown with her husband and two small children. Mum enjoyed being a grandmother and spending time with her grandchildren. Although the family was “scattered around the world,” we visited each other often and as much as possible.

Linda was in her early thirties when she moved to America to be close to me. I had settled in a small town outside of Washington D.C. called Charlottesville, not long after my marriage had dissolved. Linda enrolled at the local college and immediately made many friends. She loved the idyllic town with panoramic views of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Most of all she loved Harvey, an older cat whom she adopted from the S.P.C.A.. It was not long before Harvey became diabetic, and Linda lovingly administered his daily insulin shots. When he passed away a few years later, Linda was heartbroken and decided to return home to England to be closer to mother and the family.

Linda adjusted back into British society and was thrilled to work for an American Company she said was like having a piece of America and the best of both worlds. Everyone was pleased to have Linda home, especially mother. Linda would pop in to visit Mum on her way home from work and to take her out on Sunday afternoons. Mother never learned how to drive, so she enjoyed their weekly rides out to the countryside, stopping at garden centers along the way. Also, Linda reunited with her childhood sweetheart, Jimmy, and happily settled into her new life.

Although I lived in America and my family lived in England, distance was never an obstacle when it came to our special family bond. I traveled several times a year to visit them, and there wasn't a year that went by that one of my family members did not visit me. They loved America, and they especially loved New York. Mother used to say how she felt “alive” there, and in her experience as a world traveler, “there was no place like New York.” On her 60th Birthday, I took her to the Windows of the World, a restaurant located at the top of the Twin Towers. She sat in the restaurant looking over the city of New York and exclaimed “at sixty years of age I am sitting on top of the world!” She was so excited. She even took a photograph inside the elevator of a display panel of the buttons for each floor. She always appreciated traveling to new places and never missed an opportunity to live in the moment. She saw the goodness in everyone and appreciated every adventure.

Despite the distance, we were a close family. I was fortunate to have an excellent deal on my mobile phone with a low cost international calling plan, which meant I could call Mum every morning at eight o’clock on my way to work. With the five hour time difference between the two countries, it would have been one o'clock in the afternoon in England, just late enough in the day for Mum to have the latest news on family, friends, and neighbors. One day I called and she was crying. "What is the matter mother?" I asked thinking she was fine just yesterday. "It's Mrs. Prichard," my mother cried. "She passed away this morning." "Mrs. Prichard?" I said puzzled. "I thought you didn’t like one another?" Mrs. Prichard was a neighbor mother had quarreled with over 30 years prior and had never spoken to since. "I know," she said still crying. "But it was nice knowing she was there." I told her that I understood completely because, for better or worse, people are part of your lives. Sometimes I wonder if they met in Heaven when mother crossed over.

Our phone calls were like a daily soap opera, my news then her news, and I looked forward to them. Just two months before she passed away, my mobile phone stopped working. I went to the mobile shop to replace it, but the new phones did not have international coverage, and the sales associate suggested that I wait a couple of months until a new model came out. I started calling mother on the weekends from my landline instead. I was disappointed that I could not talk to Mum everyday as I missed our daily conversations, and reluctantly, I adjusted to our weekend phone calls instead. When Mum passed away I felt that somehow I had been weaned off the daily calls, like a baby weaned off her mother, and somehow, I was saved from this further loss of our daily contact.

Our mother's death came as a shock to all of us. Before she died, I did not think about death. Death only happened to the elderly or people who had serious illnesses. Relatives on my mother's side lived long lives, well into their 80s. My maternal grandmother at 89 years old was still alive when mother died and lived until she was 93 years old. It came as a complete shock when, at 66 years of age, mother passed away suddenly in her sleep; it was a cardiac arrest, the doctor said. How could she be dead? She had a long life ahead of her. She had plans. We all agonized over these questions as we tried to climb out from the depths of despair and the agony of our grief.

The Day Mother Died

I remember the day my mother died. It was the day that changed my life. I woke up to find the world a different place from the life I once knew. I was awakened to find a life that I did not want, a life I did not choose, a life without all the things I had ever known. The phone call came at 7:00 a.m.. Why is England calling so early? I thought. England was my home country, where I grew up, but that was a long time ago. My family still lived there and, with the time change, they were five hours ahead. They knew it was still early in the U.S., so why were they calling this early?

I was tired. I had flown on an all-night flight from San Francisco, after visiting with my friend, Kate, and immediately went home to sleep. When the phone rang I had only been asleep for a short time, less than one hour. I heard the speakerphone built into the telephone announce "Out of area," which I knew meant England was calling. Who could it be? My mother? My sister? Don't they know it is only 7:00 a.m. here? I picked up the receiver and was about to say “It’s only 7:00 a.m. here,” when I heard Linda's voice say "Come home Angie, come home. You've got to come home." Linda was crying. I could hear the tremor in her voice, I could sense her fear, I could feel her pain, and I knew that something was wrong. "What's wrong? What is the matter?" I said, knowing something awful must have happened. "Why are you saying I must come home?" In a daze I heard the words, “It’s mother. She's dead." The words spun around in my head. I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. "What are you saying? Don't say that Linda. Why are you saying that?" I screamed down the phone. "She's dead Angie. Mother's dead. You've got to come home." Linda repeated. With...