Sir, – Michael Harding’s piece on dismantling the life of his late mother has to be one of the most beautifully judged and elegant threnodies on an inheritance of anxieties from mother to son I have ever read.
The archaeology of a parent’s life is an endless mystery. Who were they really? Is this me? Is this my future bequest to those coming after me? Harding touches it all, with grace, dignity and that tremendous lugubrious humour which is his hallmark. In a week of commemorations of death and sacrifice, this reminds us of the essential nature of our private dealings with mortality, close up and personal. Yours, etc,
CIARÁN MacGONIGAL,
Edgeworthstown,
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Co Longford