(no subject)
Nearly finished clearing out the flat now. Yesterday a charity recycling group took away the wardrobes. I had emptied them naturally but forgot to remove the lining paper that my aunt always used. They took it out and I piled it all into a black bin bag, I'm really tired of doing this and it's exhausting. Anyway there was a very old brown paper bag which I just thought was a bit too thick to be empty. This was inside it. It's my aunt, Ivy, with her third brother whom none of us had ever met because he committed suicide after a truly tragic accident. Apart from two photographs I found nothing about him until that minute. Now I feel as if that's why I've been driven to keep at it, so I could bring it out. And I now know he has a grave ~ I had thought it might be unconsecrated ground ~ but I think balance of mind would have been easily proved. What a thing!