“She would always do her Sudoku in the paper.” So said the social worker when I was picking up the meager possessions of my recently departed mother.
I tried not to roll my eyes. My mother would never have solved a Sudoku, ever. But she did like to solve the crossword every day in the Jerusalem Post. She would doggedly scratch in the answers and shake her head at her scribbles. Not the neat tidy handwriting she’d had throughout most of her life, but barely legible letters.
You see back in 2010 my mum had had a stroke and could barely use her right hand. The stroke had killed her ability to play the piano and had threatened to take away her love for crosswords. But my mother was determined not to let that happen.
Every day she would open the paper, pick up the pen with her left hand, and attempt to fill in the squares. With letters, always letters, never numbers – and definitely not Sudoku!