It was late November when my mother was diagnosed and a few days later I found out I was pregnant.  Within three weeks she had passed away.  I held onto a profound grief for many years – not only for the loss of this beautiful woman who had guided me through life with such love, but also for the loss of the grandmother she should have been.

Spending time in her garden and revisiting walks we enjoyed together, I feel connected to her.  When I’m standing in those landscapes, it is as if somehow the roots have absorbed our memories and hold traces of time.

The Robin first visited us on the day of the funeral.  I was in the kitchen when she swooped in and landed on the table.  She looked at me and in the stillness of that moment I had the overwhelming feeling that my mother was still with us, watching over.

My mother never got to meet her granddaughters, but if I could call upon the Robin and find her in these shared landscapes, then perhaps in some small way I could bring them together.