He had put off the task of sorting through her belongings for too long. It was time to face up to it.
She had passed away a few months back, quietly in her own bed. If there was a good way to go, then that was it, he thought.
He opened draws and cupboards, making piles - one for the charity shop, one for the family to sort through, one for everything else.
A sound came to his ears. He stilled. It's just the house settling, he told himself.
He busied himself again, trying to keep on track and not let his emotions get the better of him.
Bang!
Surely that was Mum's bedroom door slamming?
He cautiously got up and walked upstairs.
The door was closed. Surely he had left it open earlier.
He opened it slowly and entered the room.
A scent wafted around him - Mum's perfume. But how? Where was it from?
He stood in the centre of the room, the hair rising on his arms, as he felt a breeze behind him.
He turned!
A golden mist swirled in the doorway. He watched in fear as it coalesced, took form - his Mother's form!
He stared, feeling confused. Fear and love mixed within him in equal measure.
She smiled at him and spoke.
'I love you son, I always will. Look after your sisters for me'
He smiled 'Yes Mum, of course I will. I love you'
She smiled back at him, and her form began to fragment back into twisting, golden mist, which hung in the air for a few seconds before evaporating into nothingness.
Michael stared at the place where she had stood, shaking with emotion.
'Goodbye Mum' He whispered, wiping the tears from his face.
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