Whenever people talk about family trauma, it often seems to go the other way. Trauma in the older generation, inherited by the younger. People talk less about instances in which something deeply upsetting travels back up the metaphorical umbilical cord and infects the mother. There are thirty-two years between Mum and me. Is that enough time for an adult to develop the wisdom and pragmatism to process their adult child’s loss? Not just an adult child. A grandson, too. I remember asking my grandfather once when you start to feel old in your mind. He told me you never do. Mum must have been at
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