30 years late I mourn my mother.
The only thing I have of hers is a hankie.
It wraps my tarot deck that I consult in times of confusion.
The hankie that I have used is not hers – I couldn’t use that hankie.
It is a hankie I found, left behind by an unknown person, in a holiday house.
The making has stirred memories and feelings
Tears have fallen, wounds opened
Feeling torn / ripped apart
Loose threads left hanging
Unravelling
Messy
My way of healing is with Nature
Feathers / Birds
Salty tears / deep oceans of feelings
Interweaving the ripped pieces to make a whole
Of my life
My mum has gone – Now I am Mum.
I am the same age she was when she died.
I live, and I will die.
I have no daughter to mourn me.
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