Recently mum's mobility declined and though she had her new 'eyes' and new 'ears' and was supported by a wonderful group of carers, I think she was a bit lonely, missing dad.  Therefore Covid bought a silver lining in March as I moved back home from the Midlands, to continue my job 'working from home'.  It was 8 months that I now look back on and cherish.  Silly things like spotting the robin on the garden bird feeder, looking out for the moon, growing tomatoes on the kitchen windowsill, and playing snakes and ladders on her grandma's board featuring 'old slipperyback' (sliding down from square 83 to square 5).  We completed the family tree going forward, tracking down all of mum's living blood relations.  Plus it wouldn't have been lockdown without streaming and we watched again all 124 episodes of her favourite Midsomer Murders.

But the good times weren't to last.  At the end of November mum was taken in to hospital with a suspected mini stroke.  And once there she caught Covid.  Asymptomatic for 9 days we thought she'd beaten it - I recall talking to her doctor on the Friday afternoon, planning for her coming home for Christmas.  On the Saturday morning I was up early, springcleaning, to make the house nice for her return - but then came the call to say she was on oxygen, and by Tuesday would we like to come and visit.  We wanted to visit all along (Covid is cruel) but in the back of our minds we knew what that meant.

The TV on the ward was playing Smooth Radio - Frankie Goes to Hollywood 'The Power of Love'.  And there couldn't have been any more love in that subsequent few hours of happy memories and positive thoughts - she was unable to speak, but I'm certain she knew who we were, squeezing our hands.  As the song says love defies death, love defies Covid.  'Nighty night, Alexa please turn off the light'.