I just discovered Laura had scribbled in her copy of Pema Chodron’s When Things Fall Apart, ‘I don’t agree’, ‘I don’t agree’, at exactly the spot where I chucked the book. It seems neither of us thought ‘Begin the journey without hope of getting ground under your feet. Begin with hopelessness’ was a good idea. Especially not when you are floored by one of life’s major traumas. I like many of Pema Chodron’s teachings, but when it comes to hope I side with Emily Dickinson. ‘Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all …’ Or the person who said ‘the only false hope is no hope.’ Evidently Laura felt the same. Ah my dear soul mate, we so strongly hoped for you to live. And even though you passed, that hope was not in vain. It kept us valiant and playful, surrounded us with the dearest of friends, and forged between us the most exquisite of bonds. I regret none of it. Not one second. Hopelessness would have been a pitiful place by comparison.