Another postcard from the land of grief
As I write this, I am a very long way from home. I am several continents and 4500 miles away, in fact. Outside in the street are the toots and cries of a busy street in Nepal, and above me tower the mighty Himalayas. All this could hardly be further from my day to day life at home. And yet, that other country haunts me here.
For my first few days here, I have been following a path laid down by the inspiration of my #bravestandbest. I have spoken to teachers and visited schools where money given in her memory has been invested in the lives of Nepali schoolchildren. Their eager faces and enthusiastic learning would have made her glow with pride, I know.
And now, here in the mountains, i find my heart stirred by their quiet majesty. Silently magnificent, they take my breath away, and I cannot help but think how she would have loved them. Wordless, hands clasped, we would have looked at them and treasured the moment. Eleven months ago today, that became impossible - and I choose to belive that there are other mountains for her to see now.
Years ago, on a railway embankment somewhere between Reading and London Paddington there used to be a piece of graffiti which read 'far away is near at hand in images of elsewhere'. How true that is to
