Fragile

A week ago today my aunt died. A few days before that, we'd been together - sharing dinner and laughter and chatter; talking about books, family, recent holidays and new adventures. She was her usual lovely self - twinkling eyes, slightly naughty giggle and ever-ready snaphappy camera at hand. We made plans to meet again before I fly back to the UK. We hugged, we said good night. We were laughing about gorgeous men in kilts....

And then, three days later, she was gone. No illness, no warning. Just gone.

She was only sixteen years older than I am. A beautiful, warm and vibrant woman, with a lovely, exotic name that suited her so well - Leila Joy. She was like loveglue in our large and extended family - always, always, no matter what happened, or how splintered or far-flung we became, drawing us together and keeping us connected, sharing in our happiest celebrations and saddest times with obvious pleasure and unfailing compassion. There are a million little moments, from my very earliest memories to my most recent, that shine brighter and richer because she is part of them. She loved her family, fast cars, bold colours, entertaining, Schnauzers, dressing up, pretty nail-polish, photographs in frames and albums, facebook, our blogs, OB's sherry and malva pudding... oh, there's a catalogue of things that bring her to mind because she loved them. She loved....

She loved.

And we loved her.

And now she's gone.

And I am reminded, again, how fragile this life we have is. How fragile.

Not to be taken for granted. To be lived fully, richly, with love. Because all too soon, it's gone.