Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright
Wills.. a sorely missed young cat in his favourite position. He was just a over a year old when he died in a freak accident in his beloved ‘playground’ ..Larglea’s garden; after falling from a tree onto an obstacle – unobserved.
Wills was born with the wrinkly, screwed-up face of a little old man …and to be honest he continued to look that way. But he was young in body and heart ..and would have loved to play amongst the crisp, crackling frosty leaves on a beautiful day like today.
Had he been posessed of the power of speech – he would no doubt have been an iconoclast ..with a knack for turning the world on it’s head…and a nice line in sarcasm.
As autumn turns rapidly and regretfully into winter – when the languid summer days of tea under the wisteria seem so long ago now – it is hard to imagine that anything awful can, or will happen.
Yet, this week, on a day that really had no right being so beautiful – I heard that a truly lovely young woman of much too short an acquaintance, had died. I have no real claim to a relationship with her. Yet I mourn for those who loved her, and whom she loved.
Some creatures burn themselves brightly into the consciousness while they are here. She was one such. I remember four meetings, one extraordinary conversation, and loving kindness. With great compassion and vivacity. She was a wonderful companion and mother.
Like my friend Cheryl and my mother Hazel- they burnt so brightly – that the sun will never set on their memory.
In memory of Fiona..Cheryl, and Hazel.