RIP Ragnhild Kew
My mother died on Sunday. She lost her battle with cancer, and with the treatment that was at times worse than the disease. She leaves behind many friends and relatives, amongst whom special mention must go to my father, whose recent life has been totally dominated by caring for her. In the past several months as she got worse, that extended to my brother and myself taking turns in supporting him. And an array of friends and neighbours who rallied around, as indeed she had done for others in her life.
I had returned home last week for the two concerts that were a major highlight of my calendar, and so it was that at the moment of her death, I was in the final rehearsal for the Stabat Mater :
Stabat mater dolorosa / juxta crucem lacrimosa / dum pendebat filius.
The story of the mother witnessing the cruel death of her son is not a perfect fit, but nevertheless seemed strangely appropriate. Indeed, crucifixion would (by virtue of its relative brevity) have been an altogether less gruesome fate than the horrendous treatment she was on for the last few months. Who would treat a domestic pet so cruelly as we do a dying person?
Requiescat in Pace.