Adrian Chiles’s article resonated with me (My dad has died but his watch ticks on. Why does that feel so heartless?, 19 June). Last week I travelled from Kenya to a small town in India for the fourth time in nine months, where I was summoned as my mother’s end was near.
Each time I visit, I try to find some way to soothe what is left of her days, and seek to understand what still holds her attention amid the pain and loss of independence.
During this visit, she asked me, every now and then, to straighten her round wall clock, which now balances on a shelf with her books, at eye level so that she can see it at all times. The joy of doing cryptic crossword puzzles and reading are beyond her now.
Two weeks earlier, she insisted on taking a tuk-tuk and going to vote in the Indian elections, at the age of 94 – the ink on her finger hadn’t yet faded.
Why was the clock so important to her, I wondered, when one could set the time by the punctual routine of the gentle nuns at the home that she had moved to? Or by the trains that rumble through the countryside, always, remarkably, on time? I didn’t ask.
Reading Adrian’s piece, I somehow have a deeper understanding that, despite different cultures and places, there might be some universal connection to time that connects us all. I can’t help wondering, too, if simply removing the battery would give her the peace she longs for.
Beverley Bathija
Nairobi, Kenya
• My dad died seven years ago. Adrian Chiles’s article about his dad’s watch reminded me of when my dad’s mum died 58 years ago. I was seven and thrilled to find her ancient (not working) Victorian watch in my Christmas stocking.
I’m sorry to say that the watch got thrown away or lost sometime later. Adrian’s article has led me to reflect on why my dad passed his mum’s broken watch to his own daughter. A message about the passing of time no doubt. I can still visualise that watch.
Paula McEwan
Manchester
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