The plan was: having a relaxing vacation in Gran Canaria, with husband, son and mother. We started off all right, arriving in our appartment and starting to discover the island.
The Columbus museum in Las Palmas was enchanting.
But then my dear mother stumbled on a wooden decking on the beach and broke her leg and wrist. So I spend the next 2 1/2 weeks visiting her in the hospital while Mark and Pelle had to leave on the original return date. We had to wait, and wait, and wait till everything was arranged for the flight home.
We flew to Spain and England last sunday by a special ambulance plane and finaly arrived in Rotterdam in the evening. From there an ambulance brought us up North. Now she can recover and I am home again.
Mark brough a book along, about Zen and happiness and I tried to apply the Buddhist lessons. Living each day to the fullest and accepting life as it comes your way. And I really think I made the most of the days, in hospital, supporting her, and alone, in the appartment. I took up meditation again and read a wonderfull book "The shadows of the Wind", which deserves a special review later this week.
And I suddenly realised that my dear mum is not immortal. I really grieved when I realised that. Fortunately, she will recover, I'm sure, and we can be together as a small family, for some time. Precious time. I hope we're granted lots of that.