Friendship, love and the dying
A mother and daughter go on a road trip to say goodbye
One of my closest friends asked if she could stay, not so much to see me but to sleepover after an evening out to meet her son’s new girlfriend. Her son and his new girlfriend go to Bristol University, and my closest friend lives in Brighton. So on Friday afternoon she jumped on the train and trundled west, through London, to Bristol Temple Meads where I met her and brought her home. We had a few hours together before the table was booked for her dinner, so I poured her a glass of wine and we caught up on stuff while I made food for me, Prashad and my son (my daughter was at her boyfriend’s). To get the most out of my time with her, I then drove her to the restaurant, and returned home to eat supper and watch a movie. Before I went to bed, I made the fire in the spare room so it would be cosy for her when she returned. She let herself in at about midnight and, while we slept undisturbed, she slipped into bed. In the morning she told me how grateful she was that the room was warm when she got back, that there was another log there to add to the fire, and that she’d been able to watch the flames from her bed, as she drifted off to sleep.
She told me this from her bed that next morning, as I hugged her goodbye, because I had to leave the house early to pick up my mum, and drive her to Eastbourne so she could say goodbye to her best friend who is dying. Hugging my closest friend, I had no idea of its significance, and how poignant the day would be, both in my understanding of the importance of friendship and also in my luck at having my mother still to sit beside me in the car, chatting like we always do.