Afterword

Dot's life after October 1946, in five parts: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5

A final note:

This journey back in time to 1945-46 was a trip I'd contemplated ever since the day my dad (Dave) gave me my mother's diaries. I'm sad that it's come to an end, but I've loved being “with” her every day for a while. It is as much a part of her daily life as I ever can be again. I will miss seeing what we're going to do, or where we're going “today”.

I hope that anyone who has read her diaries enjoyed doing so. If you have any comments or questions, please do let me know.

Thank you.

* * *

I built a dream of mansions,
Of formal gardens grand,
Of terraces and parties
And music by a band.

But in the days of waiting
Since that time long ago,
Those dreams, my dear, have vanished
And I have come to know,

They all were built of tinsel,
Oh vain and foolish past!
For in your arms I'm happy,
Since you are home at last.

—Dreams, by Sayda Grey Richardson—a poem my mother had folded within the pages of her diary.

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