All a matter of perspective.

It has been an odd couple of weeks. A very dear friend's father died suddenly having been diagnosed with an incurable brain tumour; he lasted a mere 3 weeks. There was a funeral for a 17-year old at the neighbouring church where my eldest daughter has ballet lessons. Two lives snatched away and I was fretting over an excessive 5 pounds! My God I really need to start focussing on what is important rather than being swayed by media images of what is or is not acceptable. Get a grip!

As I get older and am faced with more death I find myself somewhat hardened. Naturally I grieve in my own way but rarely do I shed tears. When my own grandmother died 2 years ago, I did not cry. I had accepted that the little old lady she had become was not the strong matriarch she once was and I wanted to remember as somewhere between Atilla the Hun's mother and Miss Marple. I had said my farewells when last I saw her a year previously, living 5,000 miles away from family makes family visits less frequent, and accepted that she had gone long before I got the phone call to tell me of her passing.

I suppose that I can rationalise when people go. It is sad to think of them never being around again but I feel lucky to have met them and known them in whatever capacity. My heart goes out to all those who grieve at present.

There is so much for which to be thankful: beautiful days, the sound of the ocean, the hugs of the family and the promise of dreams, I just have to remember what really is important.