Growing up when you don't want to

Some of you already know this but my mother passed away last Monday, hence the quick exit from Korea on Tuesday. Yes, the irony that I would lose my mother one week before I was due home for the first time in two years. It hurts a lot that I didn't get to hug her goodbye but the advances in technology means that I have been able to communicate with her via webcam and headset. It meant a lot to both of us that we could spend so much time talking, as if we were in the same room, while on opposite sides of the world. I feel that I don't need to explain to anyone how much pain is caused by the loss of a parent, the only one that I had, some of you know and those of you that don't can only imagine.

My friends in Gangneung were fantastic last week in my last few hours there. They cleared my house for me, quite literally, disappearing through the door with armfuls of my stuff every few minutes while I sat by the window trying to understand what had happened. Tania stayed over with me on my last night while Patrick and Heimi got up before the sun to take me to the bus terminal. And the long journey home began.

When I first came to Korea, three years ago, I sat next to a baby who cried for the entire journey. I felt some little satisfaction in being that baby this time. Six hours in I got talking to the ajumma next to me and couldn't help myself when she asked me where my parents lived. She was very sympathetic. But slightly odd that, while watching 'Finding Neverland', she shook my arm, pointed at the screen and said 'mother dead'. And looked surprised when I started crying again.

I got the best seat that I had ever done with no wing to block my view but, for once, I had put the camera away- not wanting any record of this journey. My sister met me at the other end and that is when the reality lag started to hit me. This last week has been full of lots of grown up stuff, we have arranged a funeral when none of us have really been to many before. I have been to the Chapel of Rest at the hospital to see my mum for the last time. It felt important to me that I didn't see her in a coffin, she was just lying there with a blanket tucked up to her chin. We didn't stay long there, enough time to say goodbye. We have registered a death, cancelled credit cards, frozen bank accounts, met with a Humanist minister, made appointments with solicitors, taken countless phone calls and received many condolence cards.

The weather has reflected our moods, rain and mist has dominated the world outside of our house until yesterday. I have felt a little clingy, being unwilling to do anything without my brother and sister. And, slowly, the tears have been replaced with happier memories as we have talked about mum and looked through old photographs. We knew that this would happen one day but as my sister said 'not yet, it wasn't supposed to happen yet'. The cancer that we thought had gone before Christmas killed her in the end, without any warning to the doctors, let alone her hapless family.

I know that there will always be times when I forget that she has gone, when I want to tell her something or show her something or make plans with her. Now, when I leave the country, I have nowhere to go back to, which will feel strange. My poor sister will now be the recipient of my bank statements. I will always miss her but I feel no little comfort in knowing that I was loved and that she knew I loved her.

The funeral is on Thursday and, almost as part of the healing process, the sun came out yesterday. I went for a walk with my sister to Felixstowe Ferry, a little fishing hamlet at the edge of town. As some indication of my state of mind, I was able to take photos. Photos are my passion and so it is a sign of a return to some sort of reality that I would have my camera in my hand. I have always loved Felixstowe Ferry and the marshmallow shaped Martello Towers, built years ago to defend against Dutch invasions.

the brightly coloured beach huts where people go for the day

and the green grass after the dustiness of Korea

The red phone boxes and cute pubs that signal home

and the sausage sandwich that is my reward for walking all the way to the ferry

the chips to top the meal off

Then the return walk and home.