The Cycle of Life.

I think I'm having trouble processing all the sadness which keeps piling on. I spent an evening this past week, with a pal who had lost a long-term friend to sudden death. Recently, I heard that a friend of mine is in hospital, and unlikely to come home again - a terminal condition. Another friend is very ill with cancer.

I've tried to write the last couple of days, but find myself sitting facing the monitor with my hands resting in my lap, and my mind empty.

I have a rose in my garden, which my friend who is dying of a brain tumour, rescued from the neighbour's bulldozer when he was renovating - she ran over from her house, waved at him to stop for long enough to allow her dig it up for me, and pot it, so it would be saved - it has grown to over six feet tall, and is in full bloom in the side garden as I write this - the palest of pinks, and has a delicious fragrance.

I've always felt a special fondness for this rose, because of the memories already attached to it. When we moved away, my friend came to visit, and couldn't believe the size and strength of the rose she'd rescued for me - we agreed it would always be a special rose. Even more so, now.