Two days ago I heard of the unexpected death of Mandy, a cellist friend with whom I visited Wenhaston church shortly before Christmas, and whom I last saw on the day of the church visits I have written about below.
I first met Mandy and Nick over five years ago, after an introduction from a friend of my father’s, when we played together in the Lavenham Sinfonia. But our friendship developed more recently, and has been a hugely important part of my last two wonderful years. This has been largely due to my church project. Their encouragement and enthusiasm, as well as joint church visits, have been truly wonderful aspects of my tour. Music, gardens, turtle doves, chickens, Suffolk churches, cello, baking, knitting, books and home grown fruit and veg are just some of the subjects we have chatted about. A borrowed book on my bedside table bears Mandy’s name inside the front cover. How little did I think, even three days ago when I picked it up to start reading it, how poignant a simple glance in its direction would soon become. Arriving at their beautiful cottage in Sibton Green has been the closest I have felt, since my parents died, to the embrace of a safe and affectionate home where I could forget about the outside world for a while, chatting and drinking tea by the fire with a cat stretched out on my lap.
My mind continues to circle round the fact of her death, half baffled, half disbelieving, unwilling to touch it and yet unable to leave it alone. And my thoughts travel constantly to her family, whose pain will be great.
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