Bridges are for crossing

As my brother said today, ‘funerals would be great, if it wasn’t for the death bit’.

Seeing family who once lived around the corner and were so familiar, but now are seen perhaps twice in twenty years. Except, for one person even that option is now gone.

I have a lovely picture of my mum and her four sisters, laughing, happy, joyful at being together again; a combined age of nearly 400 years. And although I doubt they would have minded, I’ve posted a different image today.

They used to be contained by the same four walls, now they are spread over counties and even countries. Today, briefly, they were together again — apart from their brother. A sister remarked, ‘the circle is broken’. He was the second from youngest; ‘someone got the order wrong’, my mum said.

So we travelled for 5 hours, to meet for minutes. Uncles, aunts, cousins; not surprisingly, the many branches reach out.  So much to say and hear, but time for few words. 

Life is short.


Bridges are for crossing.