Feasts ad farewells

It's the village feast of where the Mr. is from, so we have been out amid the festivities of St. Helena in Birkirkara (as also seen last year). Band marches, endless fire works, music and great enthusiasm (even with the thick humid heat).

Alice T. Winfield

My mind is not here though, we received news that my grandmother passed away suddenly, and without having the chance to say good by or to speak to her one last  time makes my heart feel like lead. These are the moments when living so far from family and old friends is difficult. It had been a year and a half since last I saw her. To be fair she was 97 years old. Until the day she died she was still reading the New York Times, a lady who wore berets tipped to one side in the winter time, could argue with the best of them about any given topic, loved to travel (and did a fair amount- from Kathmandu to Cuba). She was an optimist who was always willing to have a conversation with a stranger, a curious, tennis playing gal, my hero.  The woman who taught me to play cards, to swim in the sea, to iron a shirt and to drink afternoon tea. We share the same feet, hands and eyes.  

The world feels slightly duller with her not in it. 

 I will be taking a few days leave from the blog.