September 8th, 1974

Forty years ago today my mother died. I was eight, she was 32 and I’m sure that neither of us wanted things to work out that way. It has taken me a long time to be able to think about her death, it wasn’t and still isn’t fair. It’s as fair as anything else though, people live and people die, I am currently one of the living. I’m writing this on the train from Amsterdam, traveling to Mannheim, Germany with my daughter. The hot ham and cheese baguette was delicious, the coffee too was good. Today I celebrate Denise Howton by living. She is still alive inside me and inside my daughter. And today I start to heal, I can finally say goodbye Mum.

I’m Sorry Mum

I'm Sorry Mum

This is my memory of just after my last interaction with my mother before her death. She was upset, I shot an arrow at my sister in a fit of rage and it grazed her leg. My mother was admitted to the hospital that day and died before I saw her again. 2014 is the 40th anniversary of those events.