Today has been about contemplation. As I sat quietly under a completely cloudy night sky I looked up. The clouds had parted in an almost perfect circle revealing exactly two stars. The pointers looked down at me as I gazed up at them. Alpha Centauri shining a little brighter than her partner Beta.

I had a chat with them…as you do. For they perfectly represented my pondering. One a little more showy than the other. Each pointing the way for the other depending on the direction you looked. Both stunningly bright.

The wind picked up and the clouds began to move. From earth the stars themselves looked like they were flying. A tiny shooting star passed behind them both. Then they began to be dimmed by the cloud as one, then the other disappeared from my sight. But they hadn’t gone. Their light still shone just as brightly I simply couldn’t see them anymore. They continued to twinkle in another place.

That is how I think of you both today…shining on just out of our reach.



Last night I began to write hoping to comfort a friend. As I chose words I realised that  they may strike a chord with others. And then the phone rang. It was one of those calls you wish you didn’t answer to delay knowing for just a little while. My Nan, the very lady who instilled the meaning of family in me, had passed away. And so my own words both screamed at me and offered comfort.


There is a special occasion to mark this week. A celebration of life. But how does one celebrate a life cut short? The loss of a child is not something anyone should have to experience. It is so wrong. The unfairness of this world sometimes means the most beautiful souls are born to the most fragile bodies. So sometimes angels can’t stay.

Love is infinite. So, it seems, is loss. For how can we, as people capable of such extraordinary joy, reconcile the absence of a loved one. My belief is we can’t and we don’t. What we do is gradually find a new normal. Everyone does this in their own way and at their own pace. There is no right or wrong way to navigate the pain. But the love will always be there.


I have many happy memories of a Nan who taught us how to play cards, sang to her magpies and swore in quadruples. She was “funny great nan” to our kids and, even when she muddled who was who, she still made people smile. She lived. And in a time of sadness I am grateful that she did and that she died having really lived. I don’t know how to take away my friend’s intense pain of losing a loved one in the wrong order but I am grateful to have known such a delicate soul. Another star in the sky tonight to watch over those lost too soon.