July has been a very challenging month. My mum, who had severe dementia, died on Saturday the 3rd and as we were waiting for the undertakers to arrive, my lovely partner Ian had a heart attack. My nephew Cameron and his girlfriend Sara were superstars and drove us straight to the local hospital. Within minutes, Ian was being blue lit to the Golden Jubilee cardiac unit. On the Monday he had a stent fitted and he was home on Tuesday afternoon. I will be forever grateful to all the superstar NHS staff who saved his life, my lovely nephew included!

While Ian was in hospital, my focus was very much on him, and once he was  safely home, it was time to organise Mum’s funeral, which wasn’t a straightforward task in Covid times, with the limits on attendees and track and trace requirements. All the buzzing around made me feel I was putting grieving for Mum on the back burner, but writing the eulogy really brought home what a loss she will be for all of us. This is what I said at the funeral, and it sums up what I feel, both about Alzheimer’s disease and about my lovely mum.

Alzheimer’s is a wicked disease. It stole mum’s memories, her cheerful chat, her interest in our news, her joy in reading. Dementia was a cruel thief and it took Mum from us, gradually and insidiously.

Dementia nearly won … but it didn’t. It didn’t ever take Mum’s smile. There were still occasional tiny glimpses of her spirit, and those glimpses helped us remember the things we all adored about our mum, her cheeky humour, her compassion,  her empathy for other people, her love of her family and friends.

Growing up, we always knew that whatever mistakes we’d made, whatever we’d done wrong, Mum might be annoyed or upset with us but she would always be there, always loving. I suppose we all took that love for granted and it’s only as we get older that we realise that unconditional love is a rare and precious thing. I think we are all aware, how lucky we are to have had our lovely Mum in our lives for so long.

She was the person we went to with our news, good or bad, because we knew how much she’d care. Her pride in our achievements was genuine but even more important was her compassion and love during difficult times. We have all leaned on mum so much over the years and now we have to try and move on without her support.

 Alzheimer’s might be a wicked disease, but it failed to crush Mum’s loving spirit. We have to carry on without her, but we will treasure our memories of our mum’s lovely smile, and know that love won.

On the way back from the funeral service, my daughter Sally looked at the photo of Mum on the front cover of the Order of Service and wondered about the book on her lap. When Sal managed to identify it as being The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, it gave me a start, as I had bought the same book, but with a different cover, just a week before Mum died. The odd coincidence felt right though, as Mum and I shared a passion for reading, and she was so pleased and proud when I became a published author.

The gorgeous weather in July has been wonderful for all of us. My dad has been able to potter in the garden and Ian and I have been to the beach a few times to enjoy walks by the sea. I even braved the freezing water at Seamill to go for a short swim!

Secrets of the Last Merfolk came out on the 22nd of July and it is brilliant to see it in shops. An in-person launch wasn’t possible, but I’ve been touring bookshops, signing copies, and the warm welcomes have been lovely. Thank you so much, lovely book people!