My mum lived with us for more than forty years.She was everything to my family,my boys adored her, especially the one with severe learning disabilities.When she died my husband and I had gone out for the day,and our son found her in the garden, she'd been picking plums!.She was 90 when she died,and woul be 101 if she was still alive.After she died, I couldn't bear to take her ashes away,but eventually took them to an airman's memorial where we used to live and scattered her there.It seemed the right thing to do as my father was killed in the war, before I was born,and he was in the R.A.F.I miss her everyday,and when I go to do something which she thought was her job,I can still hear her telling me to sit down.