- **By**: [[Simon Collison]] - **Date Published**: - **Date Read**: 2025-03-05T10:09:17+00:00 - [**Read Original**](https://colly.com/journal/one-year-march) - **Tags**: **Note:** Below is the text from an online article – none of the writing is by me. ### One year  Pen-y-ghent, uncropped and unfiltered. I took this average iPhone photo of [Pen-y-ghent](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pen-y-ghent) one year ago today. I was probably intending to share it on Instagram or here on my site, but as it turned out, I couldn’t bring myself to share anything from that trip. With around 30 minutes of the drive remaining, I’d glimpsed the famous peak between stone houses. As we turned the corner, it came clearly into view, dusted in spring snow below a crisp blue sky. I pulled into the tiny village car park, and Geri and I jumped out to stretch our legs, breathe the cold air and appreciate the landscape. I took the photo in a rush, aware the subject was too far away for it to be worthwhile; I just wanted to capture the moment. Mam stayed in the car. She was very ill after four years of gradual decline and one month of rather sudden decline. I’d booked the cottage two months earlier, before things deteriorated. She was recently out of hospital, prematurely discharged and determined to make this trip — a three-hour drive up north to a remote cottage in the Yorkshire Dales. When we arrived at her house, I took one look at her and told her she didn’t have to go, but she was characteristically stubborn, and I was angry with myself for booking somewhere so far away. It was to be her last trip anywhere. Despite the difficulties, I will always be glad that the three of us did something special for her 80th birthday. The evening was cosy and warm, with good food, fond memories and plenty of laughs. The day had drained her energy, but we all went to bed happy. Or, well... perhaps she went to bed really worried. The next morning was heartbreaking and I won’t talk about it. I don’t even let myself remember it – right now, as always, I switch to thinking about something else... anything else. She needed attention but insisted on returning home. She slept all the way, and I drove those 160 miles with such exceptional care that I could’ve balanced an egg on the roof. Later that day, she was back in hospital – a better hospital, eventually graduating from the corridor to a comfortable ward, staffed with good people who cared for her. It was there that she spent the last two weeks of her life. I’ve been dreading 4th March, but it’s been ok. I've been preoccupied with an unusually dense period of client work and today that stole my focus as it has for several weeks. This evening, I’ll dig out a few favourite photos and think about my Mam, and my Dad, and our best times. And one day this Summer, I’ll drive back up to Yorkshire, and I’ll climb Pen-y-ghent for the three of us.