Rosemary Eleanor Konradin Luling Haughton

13th April 1927 - 9th May 2024

My mother died this morning. Rosemary Eleanor Konradin Luling Haughton, born on 13th April 1927. I don’t have the words yet for what she has meant in the world, never mind to me, my siblings, our wider family of foster siblings, cousins, grandchildren and of course her beloved partner Nancy whose loss is in many ways the greatest.

Her oldest friend is still alive, beautiful flame haired Jen who she shared a studio flat with in Notting Hill in 1948. My Dad worked for Jen’s Dad in his prep school in Sussex. He and Jen’s beaux would visit them in their tiny flat with their two ring burner, or go dancing in war torn London. Jen married her beaux and had a ton of flame haired boys who went to school with a ton of black haired boy, my brothers, because my mother too married her beaux, Algy, my Dad. The connection remains to this day.

That is just one small vignette from a life not just well lived but crammed, absolutely crammed with fascinating people, events, places, heart ache, joy, children, gardening and writing. One day I will write it all down, but not today.

The day before yesterday she was still speaking, and had a few teaspoons of yoghurt which she decided was a good accompaniment to milk, which she drank through a straw. Prior to that she had developed a passion for Liptons iced tea. A life time of choices of foods and drink condensed down to three things.

I left her yesterday, tucked up in her bed in the living room of her cottage that she shared with Nancy, her partner of many years. She was no longer speaking but I am sure she could still hear so I talked to her about the family, her beautiful garden which is beginning its spring blooming in style, I read to her from a Cries of the Spirit, a poretry and prose anthology, which is stuff full of her markers and from her book Gifts in the Ruins, bits of which were particularly apt. She was surrounded by love and the flowers from her garden and it felt ok to leave.

The days since Friday have merged into one but I have some treasures to hold inside me forever - things she said to me, things she said to others, funny moments, crazy meals, the flowers in the garden, witnessing the real and compassionate care from the carers and nurses, Mum’s and Nancy’s friends and neighbours, the sun coming out so we could open the window and let the scents of the garden reach Mum’s nose. And love, it was everywhere.

I chased the sunset as I arrived near home last night, turned off to Tresaith to catch the moment and what a moment it was. It was a silent concert in honour of my Mum as she entered her final hours. This evening’s sunset will contain her, her energy and her light, and the days and nights from now on as she becomes one with the universe, creating beautiful gardens in the sky.