It feels so strange - the four years have both been fast and endless. I have accepted Mum's death - no choice there - and mostly remember the days before Alzheimer's. I can still her pre-AD voice, saying in a slightly exasperated way "Now, Joanne" about whatever it was I was rabbiting on about. It's not raw grief anymore, it is a gentle melancholy. I still have the odd time of painful grief but these are getting further and further apart. I am grateful.