When we left the hospital on the day of our sister’s death, it was almost reluctantly; in that dazed and still unbelieving state which follows such bereavement it seemed somehow insensitive — too soon — to leave her: and yet we realised that in essence she was no longer there.

Her daughter had taken home with her the yellow balloon that she had painted with a ‘Smiley’ face before giving it to Jac and tying it to the bedhead in her hospital room.

Later Jac’s family and others who had loved her gathered by the pond which she had created herself some years before — fringed with blue iris and wild flag — and in which the goldfish moved gracefully, forming their patterns of calligraphy in the mellow evening light.

After a little while — a time for gentle private thoughts and prayers, the yellow balloon was released heavenwards into the mourning purple of the summer darkness.

This charming little ink drawing and prose poem was sent by Jac’s ‘First Love’ to her daughter after that evening, and we thought that it would be a fitting interlude in our posts.

Jac’s sisters.