On 7th March every year,
Mum’s anniversary,
we took time to remember her.
We went to the graveyard,
lay roses
and told her the good bits from
our lives –
when we could think of them.
Kelly-Anne left us to it.
Not that we did very much.
And one year
when we got home
Dad rummaged around in his room then came
down
with the silver chalice pendant
on a chain.
This was hers, he said.
You’re old enough to wear it
and take care of it, I suppose.
He held it a moment before handing it over.
Thanks, I said.
He shrugged.
Yeah. Well.
I’m not into all that religious bollocks
anyway.