My Mum, Gwyneth, died suddenly at home on Monday afternoon. She has been fighting off diabetes for 33 years and heart trouble for the last decade or so, plus all the related health troubles. She finally went, and I know that she wanted to go quickly and not linger on in hospital. So, she is released from her troubles, and we are dealing with the suddenness of it but we think she was better off to go quickly and without fuss as well.

My Dad, my sister and her family, and my hubby and I didn't have chance to say goodbye, but I don't think that there is any unfinished business that any of us can regret.

My sister and I arranged the funeral which was yesterday afternoon. Harp music, and the hymns/songs were In the Garden, Whispering Hope, and The Old Rugged Cross. The organist played Land of My Fathers, the Welsh national anthem, because Mum's mother was Welsh and we had a harper at her funeral too. While everyone was standing around afterwards the harper played Celtic music including some of Carolan's tunes. There were lots of roses in the church, and we had some of Mum's things on a table at the front - one of her needlepoint tapestry pictures, a couple of photos and a crocheted rug she had just finished making. I read the Eulogy I had written the night before in about 10 minutes flat. I surpised even myself at being able to get through it all in one go.

While arranging the funeral service I only had one little disagreement with the minister, Gwen, about religious interpretations, but......(grin)

I am listening as often as I need to, including right now, to Paul/Musicman's beautiful Farewell CD. It is like medicine for the soul.

Thank you Paul. I don't know if you will ever realise how much this CD is worth to me. I play it whenever I need to feel calm and soothed and I get uplifted by the beautiful simplicity of it.

Please, everyone, play a tune, sing a song, light a candle, say a poem, or just smell a rose and think about a beautiful woman who loved people - all sorts of people - more than anyone else I know.

Helen, who will miss Mum most at 9am Sunday morning, when it's time for our weekly phone call