I left the chapel where the service had taken place. As I waited for the celebrant whom I had arranged to meet for a chat afterwards, my attention was drawn to a board on which were posted prayer requests. At the top was a card inscribed with a message to David (my name). It said 'Please take care. All my love to you always. From your Mum.' I felt warm. As if it were for me. I reached for an empty card and scribbled a reciprocal solicitation: 'Mum, all my love to you too. From David'.
Later that week I found myself recalling that although my father loved and was loving to me he had some difficulty understanding me. It was mother who really knew me though she did not always behave lovingly towards me.
The same evening we attended a performance of Ibsen's Ghosts. There Oswald Alving is asked by his mother whether he loves her. He replies rather, 'I know you'. I caught my breath.
Communion in more than one kind.
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