|Picture from here. Read the blog post. It's wise.|
“Will you miss him a lot?” asked Eleanor.
“Yes, such a dear little boy he was, his voice piping and so intelligent and always seeing things he shouldn’t quite Continental really but so endearing I always did wonder what would happened to him so different so much more sensitive than his father though I loved him too but somehow it’s different with grandchildren you’ve learnt how to be a better parent if you know what I mean sometimes I do get muddled.”
“Quite. I mean, not that you get muddled but that you learn. After Bart killed himself, I wondered whether I would keep going. I wanted to kill myself too, you know.”
“Oh, my dear!” For once Lucasta was brief, her eyes fixed on the other woman’s face.
“Yes, it would have been such a waste. But for a long time, I was so depressed. And grieving. And then your dear boy came to my door, quite by chance, if these things are by chance—I gave up on God after Bart died—but now … well, I wonder.”
“Oh, my dear, God is such a comfort to me I believe I will see Harold again though I haven’t worked out quite how the secretary and there was an actress too how they’ll fit in in Heaven you know. When I asked Canon Green he was quite startled poor dear man and upset too like thingummy in the Bible my dear my mind just isn’t what it was but I do believe in God who watches us all the time and loves us.”
“I wish he’d warned me about Brent. No, that’s unfair. He speaks in our hearts and I knew and I should have done something and I didn’t and now … ah well.”