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At the end of her life, she said this to me. She was 100


How's your week going?

Just quickly, my mother has been caught up in the Victorian floods, where I grew up. It was higher than the previous flood of '74. Fortunately, her house was spared. Town is cut off but not too many houses flooded. So I've had that going on while having to work. Other towns nearby have had it worse so have to be grateful.

This is a little true story. Now that you know she was 100, the title will make sense. It's in my new book, Us & Them and the things in-between, stories and poetry on connection. I call this a poem but as you can see, it's an easy to follow little story.

365,000 Yesterdays

Just leave me alone

What’s it matter?

I’m tired

I’m too old

I know you mean well

Thanks for trying

I’m over it all

Why can’t they just let me be?

What business is it of theirs

What I do?

Oh, I don’t want to talk about me

How are you?

Sorry to burden you

I’m an old girl

A silly old thing

You can live too long you know

I’ve seen too much

I forget most of it

I’m just tired.

I should be grateful though

For my memory

I’m not like those unfortunates

Those poor souls

I’m grateful for that

I am

But losing your independence

Is the hardest thing

You have to rely on others

You can’t do what you want.

The people are nice

They always try to help.

Ah you can’t understand

You’re too young

But you’ll see one day I s’pose

You can live too long you see

They’re all gone

All my family

My husband

My brothers and sisters


Who knows what happened to most of them?

I’m the last one

I should be grateful I s’pose

Ah I’m just a silly old thing

I’m too tired

Why can’t they just leave me alone?


I met her in the nursing home. Her mind was super sharp. She had mobility issues but otherwise was incredibly switched on. We were very close. She was originally a country girl and moved to Sydney when she got married. She was a stay at home wife but like many women of the time, went to work during World War 2.

I went and visited her on the occasional weekend and when she was in hospital, and later, when she died aged 103, to her funeral. She never had children so the turnout was small but I was grateful for her friendship and she was grateful for mine.

Many more real insights like this in the book. There's really something for everything. 13 stories and 79 poems. I really need your support so please think of this as a gift for family or friends.

Have a good week.

Fake it if you have to.




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