She had the most bedazzling smile, it truly lit a room. On a lovely April evening, my dear aunt went to sleep and her spirit moved on. It was an unfathomable loss. Grief is so interesting, it reveals as much about you as it does the person you lose. If you’re open, it’s an extraordinary opportunity to discover who you have always been and who you have the potential to be. I had always grown up believing that death was a part of life, the next chapter. Almost all of my grandparents lived until they were well into their late 80’s, their passing was natural, expected. It’s comforting in a way when it makes sense, you feel they lived a good life and you lived a portion of that life with them- because of you they became grandparents, they would always say it was their greatest joy.

It was such a coincidence that both of us would be in Spain several months prior, I was traveling with my family having organised a surprise birthday gift for my husband and she was on summer holidays. We spent the most fabulous time together, talking, eating and most of all- laughing. I can’t recall a time that we were together that didn’t include laughter. I wish I had taken her up on her invitation to stay the night, but we were excited to reach our next destination. Everything takes longer in Spain, not to mention navigating the narrow, curved and winding historic roads with the largest Volvo SUV I didn’t intend on renting. I can still hear her imploring me to stay, just one night she would say. For my road trip, she packed the most delectable green olives I’ve ever had. Up to that point, I had only entertained the black olive.

Andalusia, Spain’s southern region, is incredibly charming; the architecture, beaches, eclectic small towns and of course the Sierra Nevada. It captured my heart and soul, I lost the sense of space and time. My aunt loved to travel, she had a wanderlust heart, always in search of life’s next adventure, love and wisdom. It was our last time together, albeit making plans to rendezvous in Spain the following summer. Truth is, even if that following summer in Spain had come- I would always wish for one more summer with her, one more conversation, one more laugh. It’s the radiance of her being that I miss most, the way she effortlessly comforted a broken heart and a burdened mind, the way she uplifted people around her and the manner she marvelled at a beautiful flower. She lived the years of her life and her legacy an ode to joy.

Her passing was like a blink of an eye, but I’m grateful I didn’t have to prepare for it like that of a terminal illness, even in that she had grace. Rumi says “goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation”. I surrender to loving the process and to reimagining love. It’s interesting how holding a space of love for someone in their absence invites a deeper connection. The paradox of absence and presence, the mystery of love lost and found and the enigma of this being human.