I am not sure where someone’s soul goes when they die. I imagine it floats in the wind and settles in the branches of the gum trees. When it rains, it dances on the rain drops. You know when the sun rests on the water and the ripples twinkle? That is a soul letting you know it is still with you. Souls rest among the petals of freshly bloomed flowers and lay amongst the new blades of grass. They drift on clouds and ride the waves as they crash, one after another. It is the souls that comfort you as you sit on warm sand, lost in the horizon. They are there in the first rays of the morning and in the moonbeams on a summer’s night. They are all the colours of the rainbow. Souls never really leave, they are the beauty we see all around us. They are music to your ears when vinyl’s played on a record player and the sweet smell of freshly baked banana cake.

I think it is for this reason that when people you love pass away, you keep seeing them everywhere. This week the world lost a woman of such vivacity that it is unexplainable that she was chosen to go. A kind and generous soul. A mother to two beautiful children and the wife to a loving husband. A daughter, granddaughter, niece, friend to all who met her. An amazing photographer. She was not perfect, nobody is, and she would not want to be remembered as such, although to all who knew her she was perfection. And it was her honesty and fearlessness to share herself – the good and bad bits, in which we most connected. I never felt afraid to let her know how I was feeling and she shared her truth with me. I always felt anchored when I was near her, vulnerable, yet understood. I felt like we met to teach each other about strength. Amelia was my mate.

We met through blogging. And as it turned out, we discovered we lived in the same neighbourhood. Before long, we found ourselves in the blur of the school run together. Two of our children are the same age and are in the same classes together. We would always stop to chat, share a hug and lament how we just could never find the time to catch up properly. Hindsight is a wasted exercise at times of loss, but fuck I wish we had.

I don’t know where her soul is, I suspect it is wrapped around the fingers of her children and resting on the shoulders of her husband, nestled next to them at night when they sleep. It is the twinkle of their eyes and, when the time comes, in the sound of their laughter.

I see her everywhere. I look out of my bedroom window and I can see her standing there, holding her children’s hands. Her smile bright, with a cheeky knowing. I can hear her welcoming me with sincerity. The school run a little livelier with her there. The group of us trundling along together. I still can not believe that  she is gone. I refuse to believe it. I miss her.

I don’t know where a soul goes when a person dies, but I know Amelia’s soul will forever be alive in the beauty of her photographs and the world in which she was such a keen observer and passionate participant. And in the souls of her babies she grew and loved so fiercely. She knew too well the fragility of life and lived it enthusiastically. I will look for her in the stars and feel her in the gentle wind.

My deepest condolences to her family and dear friends. Your Amelia was so very loved.

Bianca xx