I turned 57 recently. I spent the day alone and not many people messaged me (my father forgot, but that’s par for the course) and I had a good cry and I was sad. It was not a happy birthday. There. I said the thing. Now I’m going to tell you why this is OK…
Mama
My mother died on Christmas Eve last year. I'm heading down to Nelson soon to be with my dad on the first anniversary of her death. I may not write about it. I'm not sure how I'll feel. But here's a piece I wrote while she was dying, in late November or early December 2021.…
Funeral
I wrote this meditation on grief after attending my ex-partner's mother's funeral on Friday. I’m standing in the carpark of a supermarket in Royal Oak, Auckland, yelling at an old man in a car. “Stop it. Just STOP IT! ASSHOLE! Leave him alone. Calm down! What the FUCK is wrong with you, JESUS CHRIST!” I’m…
Our Father
I wrote this story ten years ago, after my father-in-law (at the time) died. I wanted to somehow make sense of my profound feelings at having witnessed his death. It was published in Takahē magazine (a literary journal) in 2013. Today, on Father's Day, I remember Carl Bosselmann, and everyone who has lost a father.…
My Mother has Dementia
My mother was diagnosed with dementia almost two years ago. My father found her spooning marmalade into a wine glass. That, along with her slurred words, her frustrated struggle to form coherent sentences, and her propensity to sleep most of the day were early clues. After a puzzling few months during which none of us…
Escaping Ourselves
“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.”–Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao If you’ve pottered around my site for long enough you will know that I've been writing a novel. It's finished now, and I'm in the…
Patricia Bell, Author 