No return

I am gutted today. We heard this morning that our friend Helen has died, following a short-ish illness. She was 51.

When my own emotions are too raw to be expressed, I seek out the published poets. This is one I found today. The part in the third verse about losing the power of speech is poignant, as this was one of Helen's first symptoms: language problems. She was always so very articulate and fluent on many topics.

CleanSteve has blipped Helen many times. Here's one from 2011, when I was working part time in London, and Helen popped in to visit us for breakfast, ironically, on her way to a funeral.

Truly, I must try to live every single day to the fullest.