"There is nothing new that wasn't known before; nothing original which no other ever experienced. The seed of all our achievements was sown in the days of our forefathers, and all of our greatness attained today has been borne on the backs and shoulders of those who have gone before. All the paths we have travelled and have yet to find, were long ago discovered and walked by our ancestors; all the marvellous thoughts we have yet to think have been thought before and the sayings we have still to utter, were previously given voice in many tongues and dialects.
There is in essence, nothing that is purely original except the wrapping in which it is presented, with perhaps one possible exception; that unique love that springs from a mother to her children. Such is a love that her offspring cling to as they grip the pulsation of her heart and never let loose the hold upon her affection, in this life or in the next.
Not even when mum's heart beat has stilled and her body rests beneath the ground; not even then, can her children let go and let her be. We still make demands upon her beyond the grave, invoking her memory at every family celebration and significant happening, telling her things and talking to her when she should be at rest; just like we would as children, when we would invade her bedroom and wake her up from her Saturday morning lie in by jumping on her bed until she stirred into action once more.
Even when the ravages of old age robs one's memory and steals ourselves from this life towards final rest, even then, mum's memory and image will be the last thing to be visualised and forgotten; and with our dying breath, we will thank her for carrying us from cradle to grave without complaint.
I will be with you again soon, Mum. Save me a good spot up there. It will be so good to see you again as I've got so much to ask you." William Forde: July 30th,2016.