Diary

My daughter meets me at the hospital entrance. She looks radiant. Her baby is due soon. We talk through the complications that hold her in the hospital. Her and Bump.

Tomorrow is the 13th anniversary of her mum's death. The death of my partner: of the love of my life.

We realise that somehow Bump's impending arrival and that amazing woman's anniversary are all connected with each other. And that Bump seems somehow to be showing her grandmother's beautiful spirit of rebellion.

When I look out the window this morning my daughter's garden is carpeted with snowdrops. Snowdrops were Susie's favourite flower, because in the dark cold of winter they show the promise of spring. Susie had blossomed through harshness, too, and that was part of what attracted her to them also.

And then I meet my grandson off the school bus and we play the craziest game together.

The old funeral service said "In the midst of life we are in death". It's easy to see why they said that.

But maybe now we should remember and in the midst of death we are in life.