Rambling thoughts

We are almost a year on since Pen left us. The purpose of this post is really to crystallise some thoughts which have been going around my head for the last several months. Even though this is a blog for Pen, this will be primarily about my current thoughts. It will allow me to share a snapshot of my frame of mind, with the very select people who read this blog. It is still also very much about Pen even if the emphasis is different from other posts on here. I believe this the right forum.

The Passing of Time

Pen is clearly part of my fabric, my DNA. I have been so moulded by her that I have no doubt that some of her personality survives in me. There is not a day that passes without me thinking of her, of the insanity of what happened and how it happened. Nevertheless, however much I did not think it initially, the passing of time does help. 

For me and for many of you who read this blog, the reality, with hindsight, is that grieving for Pen started earlier than her death. We really lost Pen in the aftermath of her biopsy in late December 2007. She was initially in a coma and we thought we were really losing her at that point. She did rally to some extent over the following days. Really however, even if she retained a beautifully glowing spark of her unique self right to the end, she was so compromised mentally from that stage that Penny the personality was no longer with us. In addition, whereas I never gave up hope at any time during her illness, I could not prevent my hope being ultimately grounded in the unwavering rationality that I have always admired and aspired to have. By making it my business to become an expert in glioblastomas from the time her diagnosis was confirmed, I simply could not avoid facing up to the stark reality of the situation, however unbearably painful it was.  

Subconsciously, I can therefore only assume, that my head had to start getting used from that time onwards, to the high probability of losing my soulmate.

The human spirit seems to be such that, with time, one can get used to the most unexpected situations, even those which initially trigger nothing but terror and utter despair. As Camus describes so vividly in l'Etranger, in the context of loss of one's freedom, "J'ai souvent pensé alors que si l'on m'avait fait vivre dans un tronc d'arbre sec, sans aucune occupation que de regarder la fleur du ciel au-dessus de ma tete, je m'y serais peu a peu habitué. J'aurais attendu des passages d'oiseaux ou des rencontres  de nuages..." 

Change

I've been struggling with this question for a while. Have I changed as a result of what has happened? The answer to this is clearly yes. But if so, in what ways? Has this experience had a positive effect on me as a person? Will it ultimately make me a better human being? The answers to those questions are still very hazy and fundamentally, it will be up to others to answer. They are nevertheless essential questions, especially to those people who have known me before and have a relationship with me which is based on something I was, but may not be anymore...

For what they are worth, here are some thoughts for this particular moment in time: 

Pen's influence: Relative to me, Pen was such an essentially good person that her influence on me has to be positive. She had very visibly left her mark and her mould on my personality even before any of this happened, but with her death, I find myself consciously and subconsciously thinking of what she would think, how she would react in different situations. I have tried to lead my life with constant questioning of my actions and thoughts in terms of how I think she would have viewed them. Pen had a very strong sense of fun and was willing to indulge lots of things in those around her, but when it came to the crunch, she recognised instinctively where the lines in the sand were. And her lines were straight. By using the 'What would Pen have done/thought?" counterfactual effectively as my conscience, I am putting more thought into my actions than I ever did in my life and finding it much easier to disentangle situations and decisions, even the banal everyday ones.

Priorities: Especially in the early months after Pen's death, I filled up my time to an unhealthy degree, clogging up the few days when I was not travelling with socialising with friends, work events, dinner, drinks, shows, Spanish classes, sailing and wine courses, exhibitions, following Liverpool FC week-in-week-out, running etc. I was aware that I was doing it, but I had to fill the time because spending time on my own meant facing up to the unbearable reality of what happened. Then gradually, I made a conscious effort to spend more time on my own, in my house, with my music and my books and the occasional DVD. I had to put myself through it to see how it felt. It was mostly harrowing but I found that despair is actually tiring. I had no physical and mental energy to continue being down. Strangely enough, I think I got tired being sad and missing Pen. So I started consciously trying to get rid of the 'being sad' part and just focused on missing her. This helped immensely. Focusing on her absence meant trying to understand better what it was that I was missing, which in turn allowed me to understand better what she was about and how that dove-tailed with who I am.

This is an evolution which has been very much ongoing for several months and will no-doubt continue. I nevertheless already identify some valuable outcomes: 

-  I am learning to take more time to live. I clearly used to be too engrossed in my career and in trying to be successful. I have been reasonably good at it but it used to receive an undue proportion of my time, focus and effort. I definitely have better perspective, even if clearly, I love a challenge and love my work. I am also making an effort to notice people and things around me. 

- I am trying to connect more with the physical world. Pen always had tremendous sensibility in her very soul. She felt the world whereas I had to look quite hard to see it. Hers was a beautiful talent and attribute to have and I have been trying to cultivate it in me. I will never reach her levels but I am improving. I have felt it often and increasingly, notably during my holidays to Mauritius and India, but also in everyday situations and conversations. 

- Probably one of the most obvious things to say about Pen is that she was so good people. I have always considered myself also reasonably good with people, but Pen had a disarming spontaneity, which won her unquestioning trust and loyalty from a first meeting. This is something I clearly lack. It is a wonderful thing though and I would quite like a little of it! So I've been trying. This does not come easily as my natural instinct has always been not to venture opinions until I have a clear view or am asked a direct question. Nevertheless, I am still trying... Please do mention if you detect signs of this elusive spontaneity!

Spirituality and beliefs: Everyone knows that I was born and raised as a Hindu. My family are very proud of its culture and traditions. Personally, I developed what I considered to be a healthy scepticism. I was always much more interested in Hindu philosophy and the history and resilience of Hindu civilisation, rather than in the rituals, culture and traditions in the form and shape they have evolved to today. I also grew up with a strong sense of my Mauritian identity, as distinct from my Hindu culture. I fundamentally believed that there is a god even if I struggled to conceptualise it, which I think is a fairly common problem.  

The fact and manner of Pen's illness and death have shaken my spiritual beliefs to their very core. I am still proud of my Hindu heritage and my Mauritian identity - these are intrinsically part of who I am and Pen would certainly never allow me to forget either of these things, given that she became so close to what she called 'my tribe'! I still try to live my life by doing the right thing by others - my version of this being inevitably conditioned by the Hindu view of these matters, with an emphasis on duty and self-questioning.

As far as spirituality is concerned however, I am in a different place altogether. My thoughts on this topic remain muddled and I cannot foresee whether this is where I will end up, but for the moment, what I know is that I can no longer take seriously the concept of a benign god. I am actually increasingly with Roger on this. There is no purpose in life other than the purpose that we can find in it through our own search, using our own consciousness and conscience.  Other than that, we are ultimately driven by our cells, which sometimes become very defective. 

Emotions: When I consider how low I have at times felt, I cannot help being occasionally surprised by the resolve, determination, sheer bloody-mindedness I have also shown in the last 18-odd months. At Pen's funeral, I committed to her that I would not allow myself to be beaten by this, but rather, inspired by her own love of life, I would embrace my life and try to make the best of it. I did not however expect to achieve it. I anticipated having enough resolve to be able to function at a basic level. In reality, I have managed to do more. It is quite scary at times and this is an area of my own personality that I am still trying to understand. Perhaps we all have this latent ability to raise ourselves in the face of adversity. Anecdotal evidence would suggest that this is indeed the case. At other times though I do worry that I have somehow become 'superhuman' (not my description but rather that of fantastic Lenora when she visited recently). I wonder whether I will allow anything to ever touch me again, at a certain level. I have always had empathy and I am convinced that I will retain that. If anything, I think I have become closer to the people who were close before. I cannot help suspecting however, whether there is a part of my brain and emotions that will be forever cauterised by the events of the last 18 months. I guess time will tell.

People

It's been very enlightening and ultimately enriching to consider and analyse how people have reacted to Pen's illness and death. A few conclusions on this:

- Pen and I are blessed to have the families that we do. I know from experience as well as from talking to a lot of healthcare professionals, that the rallying around that we were able to do was really fairly unique. It was a desperate situation but all decisions were taken based on consensus and I am ultimately convinced that I took the right calls, with the support of those who counted. We informed ourselves, researched, got views from the best places in the world, challenged the doctors in a way that many people would not have been willing or able to do. We ensured that she had the best care possible. We cared for her with our hands. She died in her house. I really think she felt all of this in spite of her compromised state.

- I will never be able to express my gratitude to our friends for their incredible support through Pen's illness and since her death. The saturday afternoons in the pub during her illness were respite from caring for her, which maintained my sanity. Since her death I have always had someone willing to talk when I've felt like sharing some thoughts or occasionally much more, over a few beers. You have made unbelievable gestures. Sue's parachute jump and Matthew dedicating his first published book to Penny are two that are well known, but there are many more. What we've been through as a group of friends has really been bizarre but it has clearly brought all of us closer together. Especially the different pockets of friendship which are not connected in any particular way other than simply through knowing two people. This is an unequivocally positive thing to come out of all this and it is something which Pen had always wanted to try to achieve at our parties!

- My work really showed what a team is all about. Being told by Sunil to "Go away, be with your wife, and come back when you're ready," was absolutely instrumental in me being able to be almost constantly at her side for the last few months of her life. The unquestioning, selfless and seamless way my other colleagues stepped into the breach to cover for me for the next 8 months means that they will always be much more than simply colleagues. When people in financial services currently have so much bad press and are faced with so much ignorance... but that's another topic!

- It's been interesting to meet people for the first time and see their reaction. Overall, I have had waves of sympathy and goodwill. Mostly people do not know what to say. It is only natural. I remember clearly being a spacker when Lucy, your sister died some years ago and I really did not know what to tell you. It is not easy. I expect I remind people of their own mortality, and the sheer unpredictability of life.  These are not comfortable thoughts when one is supposed to be at their peak. Given this, I am surprised more people simply don't run a mile! I actually think sometimes, it is better not to say anything. A hug or a handshake can convey so much. 

- Without the people, I could not do this. You know who you are. Thank you.

From Pen's Uncle David (at last!)

My Dear Penelope,

Ashwin emailed me and wanted me to contribute to the "blog". Now, lets stop there! He and you should know I am not up to speed in that area yet.

Exactly what is a blog?

I did my very best to self teach. But Mr Google has a lot to answer for. Back to the drawing-board please and make these new-fangled modern communicative 'thingys' user-friendly for the over 60's!

Anyway. God Bless Ashwin. He has offered to write this up for me.

(That was the situation last night and I sat down and wrote this. It's now mid-day Friday, and June has stepped in and watched over the shoulder as I had a fourth attempt at getting a Google account! Blow me down, she must have some psychic influence over my laptop. After 3 trys at the squiggly security word generated by Google, we are in!) I will continue what was written last night when I should add I had the assistance of a large Gin & Mix - recipe available on request, but marachino cherries are a must have! Last night's effort continues.

I'm listening to Leonard Cohen - Songs of Love & Hate album. Famous Blue Raincoat, Sing another Song Boys & Joan of Arc in particular as I started this. It's really good mood music. It helps me connect.

Because, like dear Peter, in my mind you are both still here. Very much. Very often.

I've now got Tim Hardin "I'll be Home" playing.

These songs will forever be a part of my complex life.Penelope. You were too strong a personality and left such an impression in my life that the happy thoughts I get when I think of you will never go away. Ever.

Perhaps that sums it up in 1 paragraph.

I'm now a grand-dad but not seen my grand-daughter.How do you define hurt? No matter. I do know there is always an upside around the corner.

Now you have made another milestone in mylife. This is my first ever blog! I hope you like it. We will be seeing Ashwin soon.

Our love as always,

David & June xx

;<) - that's a winky smiley face with my moustache!

Memories of Pen from Mum

The loss of a daughter produces indescribable pain and is impossibler to put into words. I witnessed the death of my father and also my younger brother, Peter, which were both very sad times, but nothing quite compares with the trauma of losing a child. I am slowly getting through the pain of such grief and now want to remember Pen in our happy times as a family.
Pen was brought up in a very close family environment; being one of six children myself meant that not only did Pen have her triplet brother and sister, but also she had the love of numerous aunts and uncles, not to forget her many cousins and her amazing Granny (now aged 90).
Before the triplets were born, Roger and I had decided (luckily!) that I would be a full-time mother (giving up my job with the British Council) as Roger had a very demanding teaching load in the University of Cambridge and in Clare, his college, and other numerous roles including that of Senior Proctor. From the beginning it was clear that our triplets were each very different characters. Their interests were very different which made for great conversation at the tea table! Ashley and Miranda were strong on the sciences but Pen showed a great flair on the Arts side. Pen loved creating things and was never happier than when she was drawing, doing fimo or pottery, painting, and exploring different mediums including oils, watercolours and pastels. Some of her many creations have been framed and hang in our house. Her sense of humour is displayed in some of her art work she did at Uni in Paris when she created some cartoons with Parisian ladies and their "poodlemania!"
Pen loved music and played the piano, French Horn (abandoned due to a metal allergy) and later in London the guitar. As a child she was quite shy (can you believe it!)
but gained confidence through her classical ballet dancing which took her onto the stage and public performances and new friendship groups. Some of you may not know that she auditioned for the Royal Ballet School in London. Pen came very close to being selected. She had mixed feelings about going to White Lodge but the decision was taken from her when her feet didn't quite measure up to the ideal standard for a ballet dancer! Something to do with her big toe or too tall?!! Pen loved classical ballet but also branched out into contemporary and jazz ballet and other types probably that I may not have heard of! She had learnt from Mari Bicknell, Caroline Messenger and Maureen Mitchell how to enjoy dance and she went to numerous performances in London some of which I was able to share with her.
Holidays were spent on the Gower Peninsular in Wales and we have very happy memories and photos of those times. I remember them always as sunny, lots of walking and beachcombing and endless laughter. (The memory plays tricks with the weather but I don't recall much rain!)
Pen brought so much happiness to people and always thought of others before herself. During her "A" levels at Hills Road, I well remember her copying or even lending many of her Ancient History notes to a student who was dyslexic. She supported her brother Ashley throughout his cancer treatment and protected Roger and me from the bad news when he contracted pneumonia. She dropped everything in London, drove her brother to Addenbrooke's from Tooting and only told us about it when he was in the clear and better. In Dec 2007, Penelope made light of her pregnancy sickness and headaches and must have realized that these were no ordinary headaches or sickness but she battled on. We were sufficiently concerned to go to London and bring her home for some tlc and a check-up at Addenbrooke's. It was typical of her that when the terrible news of her illness was broken to Ashwin, Roger and I that Penelope turned to her consultant and said "Is there anything I can to help you in your research?"I was completely overcome by that response and all my life will remember that, the most humbling of replies. How many of us could say that when faced with the worst news possible? She was so brave. Throughout her illness, Ashwin, Roger, Ashley and Miranda and I know that we did all that we could to help and support her in her brave fight for survival for herself and her unborn child.
Since Pen's death in July, Roger and I have been helping each other through our grief which has challenged our physical health and our philosphical views of life. We are slowly picking up our lives again- retirement is busy these days. Miranda and Nathaniel became parents again in November and Evelyn Penelope is a great joy. Early in December, Ashwin, Roger and I returned to Arthur Rank Hospice for a short service of Lighting up a Life, attended by the Bishop of Ely. It was emotional but helpful and it was good that Karen, Pen's physio was there with all her family and we were able to share some memories. By a strange coincidence, Karen had lived next-door to my sister in Northamptonshire as a child and is best friends with my niece, Rachel. She had known Pen as a baby!
This Christmas was challenging for us but we all thought of Pen on her birthday (and Ashley and Miranda) and Roger and I went for a walk in the woods and came home and lit a candle. On 28th December, Roger, Ashley, Miranda, Nathaniel, myself and our 2 grand-daughters interred some of Pen's ashes at our local burial ground. It was a moving occasion, made memorable by Madeleine, Pen's niece aged 3. After a few words from Philipa, Maddy waved her magic wand and said "Ching". Pen would have been proud of her. The burial ground is multi-faith and is located within 10 mins from our house. It is full of famous graves including Wittgenstein and many of the Darwin family. We have commissioned a headstone in Welsh slate for Pen's plot and will hope to gather later in the year with Ashwin when it is ready to be installed. It will be a place for all of us to visit when we want to.
We thank everyone who has written to us- many of whom I haven't acknowledged as I don't have addresses for all of you. Everyone writes so beautifully about Pen and we are so proud of those that she befriended and influenced in her short life.
Life will never be the same without Pen. Somehow we all have to adjust to life without her but our enduring memory of Pen will be the love, joy and laughter she brought into our lives.
Diana

Tolerance

When I reflect, the thing that strikes me most about Pen was her remarkable tolerance. I think I used to be quite an intolerant person and when I saw Pen I would usually rant about something, albeit in a humorous way (I like to think!), but despite this she never judged me. It would have been easy for her to dismiss me, or keep her distance, but instead she was always very kind and warm. Her behaviour reminds me of the person I aspire to be.

Some photos - not overwhelmingly flattering I'm afraid - of Pen and Ash rather late in the evening at various parties which I discovered recently when my laptop gave up the ghost. Penny and Ash's combined efforts on the dance floor were a sight to behold at many parties and this joyful, sleepy, slightly boozy photo just about sums it all up.

Pen was also one of the most wonderfully creative people i know and this shone through at any occasion demanding fancy dress in Brussels. For a jungle fever party, Penny avoided the obvious clichés - no monkeys or jungle creatures for her. Pen's mosquito costume was a work of artistic brilliance, from the eyes and beak fashioned from two tea strainers and cardboard to the growing number of "bites" which appeared on Ash over the night. This back view gives only the merest hints of her genius.


Pen's low-key costume attempt for a "We love 1976" party resulted in some fabulous his and hers matching head gear.

Thoughts from the trip to Mauritius

Over the Christmas and New Year holidays, I was over in Mauritius for 2.5 weeks. I was over with a bunch of friends (8 of us at the peak). We had a great time - I had set out to make them discover Mauritius in its diversity (at least as much as was possible over such a short time), without making it overly hectic and overall I think I achieved the objective.

It was good to see my family and reconnect with friends, after the terrible events of the previous 12 months.

In the run-up to the trip, I was having a pretty tough time as it was exactly a year after Pen became ill in late November, early December and I was reliving every moment of that dreadful time. From that perspective, going to Mauritius helped. The change of environment and the active schedule meant that I could distance myself somewhat from the nightmare of the previous year.

In between and during the sightseeing and the dinner parties, Pen was constantly in my mind and I think, pretty present in everyone else's. Firstly, seeing my friends and family, mostly for the first time since the tragedy, was deeply emotional. She was a constant topic of conversation as I reconnected with Firyadh, Kevin, Roshan, Patrice and others. They all knew her and loved her deeply, and were touched by her in that unique Penny way. The same applied to family such as uncle Harriss and Aunty Leela, my cousins, Veena etc. They all had wonderful memories, which were uplifting and funny.

Travelling through Mauritius with my friends also evoked her on an almost hourly basis. She loved Mauritius so much and came to know the island pretty well after having spent so many holidays there. With her innate curiosity and her gift for languages, she quickly picked up creole and came to a deep, grounded understanding of the country, its beauty, diversity as well as its failings.

It was a trip of so many deja-vus: There were so many places and situations that I visited with my friends on this trip, which I had come across with her before: Sitting and chatting with my Dad or my Mum outside the house, dinner parties with uncles and aunts, Black River Gorges, Chamarel, Sega dancing, Domaine du Chasseur, boat trip on the East coast close to the area where my ancestors landed in Mauritius, the Buddha tree under which Pen sat to 'meditate' at the Botanical Gardens, night swims...the list could be much longer!

It was inevitable also not to see Pen in the general beauty of the scenery and of nature and the whole experience allowed me to reconnect with Mauritus in a way I had not done for a while. It can be easy to take a place for granted when you come from there and lived there for over half your life, but I realised on this trip how incredibly beautiful and unique the island is. There were so many moments where I would simply stare at the scenery in jaw-dropping awe, and feel her presence with my hairs standing on end.

Pen's birthday was on December 22nd. I decided to mark it in some way while we were there. I did some research before going over and identified a charity to which my friends and I made a donation in Pen's name. The charity is called SOS Femmes and it runs a shelter for battered and abused women. This is obviously a global issue and not specific to Mauritius but unlike in most developed countries where such situations are supported by the state, in Mauritius there is no such safety net for the unlucky women. The organisation runs the shelter which caters for all the needs of the women and their accompanying children, until they gain some independence or resolve their situation in one way or the other. In 2007, some 980 women and their children transited through the shelter. They also provide legal advice psychological, and other forms of support to the women.

The topic is somewhat taboo and not very fashionable, compared to say children's or health charities. SOS Femmes therefore struggle to raise money. There is no support from the Mauritian government either and the charity was struggling to fund their needs for the coming few years. I thought it was exactly the sort of cause that Pen would choose to get interested in: the sort of unglamorous issue which people might find easier to brush under the carpet but which she would address in her considered, interested and concerned way.

We had a small function at the shelter to mark the occasion. It was attended only by my immediate family and the friends who were over, as well as the managers, staff and volunteers from the shelter. SOS Femmes are in the process of moving the shelter to a new location and they have agreed to mark something in the new shelter in Pen's name, which is a wonderful priviledge and honour. I am also planning to write something in the Mauritian press in order to raise awareness on the charity's work and more generally regarding the need to support NGOs.

Overall, it was an emotional, fulfilling and uplifting holiday. It fundamentally made me realise how I owe much of my connection to Mauritius and my family actually to Pen herself. If it was not for her interest, curiosity, openness and empathy with people, I might well have become more detached from my island of origin and more absorbed in my world of London, Western values and private equity. As I contemplate the wasteland ahead, that is an important realisation.

One year ago October 2007

It 's exactly a year ago that Dan and myself spent a fabulous 4 weeks with Pen and Ashwin, visiting their new home at Creswick Walk, Hampstead Graden Suburb for the first time and celebrating yet another birthday of mine with my dearest Pen and Ashwin. Dan and I had been really spoilt by both Pen and Ash as usual. In early October, Pen was not feeling well but she recovered and got back to her usual vitality and showered on us her generosity and her warm heartedness. In mid October 07 we attended a concert which was a tribute to the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. All his well known songs were rendered by his nephew and the music was great with many of Pen's favourite songs from the album Love songs by Nusrat which has been one of her favorites.

On Oct 22, just a few days before our departure from London, Dan and I were treated to another yet dream concert this time the Sting/ Police concert at Wembley. It was a fabulous evening and the 4 of us were singing away and dancing during the concert. Exhilarating moments. Dan and I were overjoyed and the evening was a memorable one. This was to be one of our last evenings out with Pen.

The next day she asked me where we would like to go and this time Dan and I mentioned Kew Gardens as Dan had never visited Kew and we were again taken on a tour of Kew. Penny took us round always making sure that we visited areas that we would find interesting as for example the hall dedicated to chilies knowing how keen Dan is on chilies and cooking.
These 3 events in October 2007 were the last activites we were to enjoy together and we did not know what was to come. The next we saw Pen was in December 07.It is still difficult to come to terms when looking at the photos we have of those moments but they will be engraved forever in our memories. It all seems so unreal as they were all a few months ago!!!
I would like to share a few snap shots of those moments. Love you PEN.

Selvam (Monster in law)Oct 24 08

A few favourite photos

Pen and me in Istanbul, August 2007

Classic quirky Pen, our honeymoon, Morocco September 05

Reflective and contemplative, Tivoli, Copenhagen, August 03

My stunning babe -at Mirry's wedding, August 04

Sleeping, and sleeping, and sleeping

It is useful to have friends more inclined to take taxis. Many has been the Friday night when I have fallen asleep in the back of a black cab outside a London watering hole, and woken up at the Ash-Pen manor with a takeaway having somehow been acquired en-route. Such has led me over the years to have become well acquainted with the Roy sofa (more so in poorer Highgate days). There have been times I have woken up on Saturday. Mooched around. Had breakfast. Mocched around. Gone to get the paper. Mooched around. Read the paper. Had lunch. Gone home. Never seen Ash or Pen. If only there had been olympic medals for sleeping!!!!
I recall also in the far gone Putney days arriving at Ashs flat (at the announced hour). Knocking on the door for so long that the neighbours on both sides answered and told me to b***** off. Eventually I had to walk down the street, teleophone (before mobiles) and let it ring a good while before rousing a dozy Pen and being confronted with the words 'hmmm, I thought I heard something'.
x

Pulling faces

Pen had a unique talent for pulling faces. Unfortunately, we do not have many photos of her doing so, but this is a wonderful and very typical one, courtesy of Lucy. I believe this was taken in Madrid when Lucy, Eloise and Pen went to visit Chiara.

Clearly, this particular talent is derived from Pen's Dad, but I daresay that Pen took it to another level. She expressed her moods through her faces: usually showing her playful and fun-loving side, but there were also occasionally some expresssions which I quickly learnt as suggesting "will you please *&$! off and leave me alone for a bit!"

If anyone has any more pics of Pen pulling some unique expressions that only she can, please do post them here.

Pen, please keep pulling faces at me in my dreams.

From Tarun: too good to be left as just a comment

Babhi was an amazing being who had the special gift of lightening up the lives of anyone she met on. She had the ability to quickly connect to the younger members of the family;to understand the essence of their personalities. The very first time I had a proper conversation with her was back in Mauritius and I remember clearly that we discussed quite lengthily why the book "Life of Pi" was a book that would make people believe in God. I think from that moment I knew she was someone very special. She had an amazing intuition on just about everything. She was always hungry for knowledge and was always reading something new. But what made her so special was her ability to pick up the fundamentals of any subject she had not read about just by listening. Babhi was a great listener and apart from giving sound advice to me when I needed it she also pushed the tradition of oral education to another level:P. She'd pick up biotechnology from speaking to didi and some geekiness from speaking to me. Also she had tremendous insight into anything that was related to the Arts. I remember one day watching an anime with her and without even knowing she said somehing about the shading and colouring of the drawings...turns out that the artist for that comic actually invented a new style of shading and is known for that!!! Babhi could impress you randomly like that; in the words of Blake I'd say Babhi had tremendous "Vision". Once she missed one of our planned meetings and I remember Matt feeling sorry because there'd be no female point of view. Well, Babhi was not about the female point of view. She had what can be most accurately described as the wisdom of the eternal optimists. In any discussion whenever it was about "this" or "that", Babhi would point out the third possibility:the moderate point of view that has carefully weighed all the parameters. She was really good at spotting what people agreed on rather than focusing on what they diverged on. Bringing people together and making people happy seemed to be the creed of her life:). That is probably the thing that hurts the most after her tragic loss;these dreams of unfulfilled possibilities and crazy random meetings.In spite of having spent a whole year with her when Ash and her lived at our place I still feel regret for a lot of things. I think there is something to learn from this tragic and totally unfair event; that when it comes to loved ones,don't say some other time because you never know what is going to happen.Cherish moments spent with them as much as you can so that when they are gone there is no regret but only happy memories to fill the heart. We had good times together me and babhi,especially when dad and ash were not around.:P.We became mischievous accomplices.I thought i'd make this post quite random since most of our converstions were random anyway. Friends and family out there how many times have you hear babhi say: " I met or talked to this random guy/woman"?..:P. I think that's a classic. I can't find the words to describe how amazing a person she was but the other day I thought maybe an analogy might work out...so here it goes. If Barrack Obama was running against babhi now,he'd lose because she had everything that people love about him and ten times more. Babhi was a real gift from God and she will always remain in our hearts and memories.

of Pen and Presents

Pen always had a certain knack of buying presents that didn't quite fit in with anything else I owned and were completely unrelated to the occasion being celebrated. I could tell you about the 'History of Baked Beans' I was presented with in a Kings Cross pub when I passed my PhD viva, but then I feel the tale would be rather overshadowed by 'The Duck'.
For my housewarming (some of you will remember) I allocated gift ideas to people. Ashwin was assigned a cheese knife and dutifully presented me with a rather splendid example. Perhaps since the knife has always rather overshadowed the Morrisons own brand cheddar it typically encounters but there were no great surprises. Pens contributions to the fetivities were a little different.
I acquired a rubber duck for the bath. Not just a rubber duck but a specially designed rubber duck. Pen had spent heaven knows how long turning it into a camp transvestite duck, complete with garish eyeshadow, feathers, and lipstick. I said thankyou in a rather subdued voice and have been sorely tempted ever since to hold it under water to turn it back into the standard yellow duck. Somehow I just haven't got round to that yet.

Finding inspiration, three years on...

Today and tomorrow are our wedding anniversary. The look on Pen's face when we exchanged rings that Saturday in Lynford Hall will live with me forever.

My thoughts are a bit of a mess at the moment, but I have been reading a couple of things which have been very helpful. In particular, Viktor E. Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" which was lent to me by my neighbour Marcia. Frankl was an Austrian Jew, and leading neurologist and psychiatrist in Vienna at the start of WWII. He then survived Auschwitz, Dachau and a couple other rather nasty places, before once again establishing himself as a world-renowned psychiatrist. His entire family did not survive the War. This book is about his experiences of the concentration camps. It is very personal but also provides invaluable clinical/psychological insight into how people deal with adversity. It is incredibly full of hope and positivity.

The following is an extract from the book, which I found particularly poignant, personal and true. It's the best I can come up with at this point, to celebrate my wedding to Pen. I am sure many of you will appreciate the beauty and purity of the thoughts:

"Hardly a word was spoken: the icy wind did not encourage talk. Hiding his mouth behind his upturned collar, the man marching next to me whispered suddenly: "If our wives could see us now! I do hope they are better off in their camps and don't know what is happening to us."

That brought thoughts of my own wife to mind. And as we stumbled on for miles, slipping on icy spots, supporting each other time and again, dragging one another up and onward, nothing was said, but we knew each of us was thinking of his wife. Occasionally I looked at the sky where the stars were fading and the pink light of the morning was beginning to spread behind a dark bank of clouds. But my mind clung to my wife's image, imagining it with an uncanny acuteness. I heard her answering me, saw her smile, her frank and encouraging look. Real or not, her look was then more luminous than the sun which was beginning to rise.

A thought transfixed me: for the first time in my life, I saw the truth as it is set in song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth - that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: the salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world may still know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. In a position of utter desolation, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way - an honorable way - in such a position, man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfilment. For the first time in my life I was able to understand the meaning of the words, "The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory."

[...] The frozen ground cracked under the point of the pickaxes, and sparks flew. The men were silent, their brains numb.

My mind still clung to the image of my wife. A thought crossed my mind: I didn't even know if she were still alive. I knew only one thing - which I have learned well by now: Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in the spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance."

My beautiful daughter in law Penny

It is a month since my Penny left us and life is not the same without her at Creswick Walk.I still cannot believe she is gone and at times I still believe I will see her walking in through the door in her long coat and her cloth bag in which she would carry all her books and papers coming from her course.

We miss you Penny and words will never be able to express our grief and sorrow.

Below is an extract of my message published on July 24 2008 in the local press in Mauritius on behalf of our families on the passing away of our beloved Penny who had many friends in Mauritius and made an impression of each person who met her .

"All those who have met and known Penny were captivated by her generosity and kindness, her openess - cultural and otherwise, her inquisitive mind and intelligence, her incredible listening abilities and sensitivity, learning something special about each and every person she met even though briefly. She had this wonderful gift of being able to relate to the very young and the old. She had time for everyone.

We can only thank God for having given us His wonderful gift called Penny even though for only a short time and we rejoice in having known her and enjoyed her company in our midst. Memories of her will be cherished forever."

Penny's life and her exceptional qualities should compel us all to look at our inner selves and we could learn from her and examine how we could improve on our own weaknesses and preconceived judgements.

Posted by "Monster in law " (that's how Pen named me).


on Sept 1 2008

Getting lost with a purpose

I remember spending several hours walking round London on a wet evening (going in circles taking in many side streets that were probably best avoided) looking for what Penny had promised to be an AMAZING restaurant the name of which she couldn't remember (it should be noted that Pen's recommendations were usually very good!) - we tried quite hard to disuade her from what had become quite a mission after a while - it was cold and wet and we were hungry! In the end up a particularly lovely alleyway we did find the restaurant...unfortunately it had closed down some months ago and was boarded up! Pen was quite brave here in suggesting another restaurant she knew - there may have been a mutiny at this point. x

The name's Tapp ...

When Tim and I got married we had a thoroughly old-fashioned type of wedding and were blessed with a glorious May day.


I was doing my social thing, milling around and introducing friends and family with 'thoughtful little details' (think Perpetua from 'Bridget Jones') and an old friend of mine turned to Pen and asked, 'so which side are the family are you from?'

To which Pen replied singularly - and quite obviously - 'Tapp'.

But of course he heard 'tap' in the way one might hear 'drip' or 'pop' and since it was accompanied by nothing more than emphatic nodding he was completely nonplussed ...

Pen and Cookery

Being a batchelor and consequently often hungry I am often inclined to drop gentle hints to married friends about the desirability of dinner parties. Ash and Pen have been the lucky recipients of such promptings on numerous occasions. So well trained in fact did they become that once upon a time Ash phoned me up to say, 'we are having a dinner party, do you want to come round after and have the leftovers'.
It wasn't always such a noted success when Pen took it upon herself to cook. Pen I think, more so than Ash was marked with enormous enthusiasm and passion to experiment with cookery. I recall once looking at my shoes, maintaining a neutral expression, dutifully eating something that was supposed to be homemade pasta while Pen scanned the table willing anyone to say something so she could vent the frustrations of an unsucessful experiment on them. Another time Ash and I popped out to the shops leaving Pen humming happily to herself, covering a cookery manual with flecks of ingredients that proudly heralded an experiment in bakery.
We returned a couple of hours later to a thunderous expression and the very final statement, 'do not ask about the cake!!!'. Pen pulled up a newspaper and the matter was closed.
If anyone has any further information about the cake I would be most interested to hear......

Of Pen's ability to bring unusual items to dinner parties

The term before we were released into the wild for our ERASMUS, year, Julia and I hosted a dinner for the exclusive bunch of UCL history people who were going to Paris. We eventually all became very close, but at that point in the summer of 1996 we weren't aware of Penny's moments of occasional randomness.

The evening of the dinner party arrived. I spent hours slaving over a dish of taboulleh which should have taken no more than 15 minutes. The finest " vin rouge de origine de diverses pays européennes " was uncorked, sophisticated lighting was arranged and some moody French jazz played in the background.

Guests arrived, bringing cheeses, snails, and other foods with a French theme. Pen arrived (late, would you believe it.) and proudly unveiled her contribution:

A coconut

Because she'd seen it at the shop earlier that day and thought it would be fun.

After several hours we eventually managed to get the thing open by attacking it with a screwdriver and bashing the end with one of Julia's spice girl- style platform shoes.
Pen's coconut resulted a laughter-filled evening during which we got a first flash of Pen's occasionall tendencies towards the bizarre. There would be many more....

East Enders - Pen style

Way back - it must be eight years or so ago I was living in a converted pub in East London and decided to host an East Enders party - no special occasion - just an excuse for a good party really!

Pen and Ashwin had a hectic weekend so I wasn't sure whether to expect them or not.

The party was in full swing - we had a green witch from Greenwich, one of my larger friends came as Wapping, pearly Kings and Queens (no jokes please), and I tried my best to look like the fire of London although my red wig was very itchy and kept falling off.

The door bell went and there stood was scarey woman with missing teeth, grinning inanely. I told her politely that the party was 'by invitation only' and closed the door and refiled my wine glass back at the 'bar'.

The door bell went again and low and behold there she was again looking frustrated and annoyed. On closer inspection and to my shock and horror I realised it was Pen dressed as a tramp, her eyes darkened, hair in a mess and teeth blackened out - very scary!

Pen always was a very talented actress and after a drink or two we found the whole thing very amusing but I swear I had no idea it was Pen!

I gather Pen had other amusing fancy dress moments (nothing too kinky don't worry!). Maybe Ashwin can elaborate more?

Best

Ashley (ben's Bro)

An odd paradox

Penny, if you are reading this (and I hope your eyes were averted when I stumbled across that last website, I have avoided such since that mishap on your Highgate computer) I have to say without your assistance I am more frequently lost amidst the streets of London.

Strange you might think! Penny was not noted for her sense of direction.

I recall as well getting fraught and lost for an hour and a half in Hampstead Garden suburbs looking for Ash and Pens place not long after they moved in. Ash was away. I called up Pen every quarter of an hour to find out if she had found the A-Z and to get inane advice, such as 'you have to take a turning past the house with the wooden gate'......

But despite all, Pens advice was invaluable. If ever I wanted to find a route I would ask Pen and take exactly the opposite direction. It never failed.

Pen's ability to attract weirdos...

At my own peril, I have to say that my dearest wife had an uncanny ability to befriend the socially inept and mentally deranged. And whereas for the rest of humanity, encounters of this type would be buried in the deepest, darkest coils of memory, Pen always found them interesting and worth telling everyone about!

Late night tube rides were a particular moment of opportunity for Pen to strike. The unsuspecting tramp sitting next to her would suddenly feel an urge to communicate and open his heart (as well as his cider-inflated stomach). Ebullient confessions would follow, of violent wives, frustrated love and uncontrollable children.

A peculiar trait... but then again it may explain quite a lot!

One month on

Today is a month since Pen passed away. I am still in shock. It still feels inconceivable that it could have happened.

Sometimes I really feel her presence but at other times her absence is excruciatingly painful.

I have started back at work and have dived into the deep end, with a hectic week last week. The worst part was travelling. I had a ritual of calling or texting Pen when I got to my hotel room after my meetings and not being able to do that while being on my own in an anonymous hotel room was not very pleasant...

Now that I have invited our friends to the blog, I am waiting in anticipation to see what contributions we get!

Hugs to all.

Tribute to Pen at her funeral from Papa Roy (Ashwin's Dad)

The Ramcharitmanas of the poet Tulasi is a transliteration of the Sanskrit Ramayana of Valmiki written in the 2nd Century B.C. The Ramcharitmanas was written in 1532 in Awadhi (a regional Hindi)

After Lord Rama, the incarnation of Visnu is banished to the forest, he reaches the banks of the Ganges and asks a boatman to take Mother Sita, his spouse, his brother Laksmana and himself to the other side.

The boatman happens to be Lord Rama’s devotee and immediately recognizes Him and is overwhelmed with joy and happiness. He decides to use his simple guile to prolong this meeting as much as he can.

“Lord I know of your miracles. I cannot allow you into my boat unless I wash your feet. It was the dust of your feet that turned a stone into a woman. How shall I ply my trade, should this mere wooden boat be turned into a woman? You must allow me to wash your feet. I insist even if the impetuous Lord Laksmana lets fly his arrows at me.”

The Lord sees through the guile of the boatman for to touch his feet is to be freed from bondage forever. With a smile he indicates him to do as he wishes.

Overjoyed, the boatman eagerly rushes to the Ganges to fetch water and washes his feet, again and again as if he could do this forever. The Gods, witnessing such love and devotion, shower petals upon him from the heavens. He then takes them to the other side.

As Lord Rama tries to press his fare into his hands, he refuses and clutches his feet.

“Lord what others strive for in many lives I have attained in one glorious instant”

In Awadhi poetry:

Naath aaju main ka pawa
Mitte dosh daridh dawa
Bahut kaal mein kinha majuri
Aaju dinha bighi dani bhi bhuri

The boatman has attained salvation, or Mukti.

We pray and hope that our daughter Penelope Sascha Roy attains Mukti.

We are immensely grateful for Roger Tapp and his family for having bestowed Penelope to us.

As they were able to witness, from the very instant of the wedding reception in Mauritius in December 2005, like a bright summer dawn, her loveliness and sparkle sneaked their way into all hearts. For all those who have known Penelope, the wreaking of such havoc upon unsuspecting hearts and minds even on the basis of a chance meeting is no surprise.

Penelope fought an unequal battle for seven months. The solace is that the inexorable Lord of Death, Yama, who had been stalking ominously, was stalled by the resolve of Penelope and the love of Ashwin. He was forced to bide his time, which he never does.

I should equally express my gratitude to this very distinguished assembly this morning. The excesses of frailty, anguish and pain have been turned, through your compassion, into an ark where we could cobble up a sanctuary for our hopes and fortitudes.

Mirry's blog for Penny (her sister)

It is now several weeks after the loss of our dear Penny and so many questions are still going through my mind. It seems so unfair that her time with us was so short and also so cruel when she was so happy in life. However, I have so many wonderful memories which will always be with me and I wanted to post a copy of the poem I read for her at her funeral as it sums up for me the way I will always remember her.

My dearest sis, you will forever be in my heart. X

After Glow

I'd like the memory of me
to be a happy one.
I'd like to leave an after glow
of smiles when life is done.

I'd like to leave an echo
whispering softly down the ways,
Of happy times and laughing times
and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve,
to dry before the sun
of happy memories
that I leave when life is done

Tribute from Pen's proud Bro Ashley (from her funeral)

She walks in Beauty, Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Tribute to Penelope at her funeral (from Pen's Dad)

No father expects to bury his daughter and particularly not after such a cruel illness with such great and unimaginable suffering. But, when it happens, the support of family, friends, neighbours and well-wishers is of crucial importance. Diana and I have had that support. We thank everyone, many here today, who have sustained us through practical help, friendship, prayers and good wishes over the past seven months. I will mention two people in particular:
Firstly, Penelope herself. From the very beginning she did what she could to shelter us from her pain and her suffering. It was typical of her that she thought of others before herself and sought the good in every situation. To the very end, she was able to smile and gently squeeze my hand. I am proud to have known her; proud of what she achieved in her life and proud of the way she died.
Secondly, Ashwin, Penelope’s husband. The love and devotion he showed so clearly throughout Penelope’s illness and the care he lavished upon her were everything a father could have wished and far beyond a reasonable expectation.

Our families worked together in caring for Penelope. There were three elements involved: Diana's strong Christianity, my Humanism and Ashwin's Hinduism. We discussed everything, reached the right decisions and supported each other. It was a difficult time for everybody but, nevertheless, positive and mutually supportive.


_________________________________________

I want to share with you the turnoil that has been in my mind during the long months of illness. Firstly, the sense of anger and bewilderment that this should happen to such a worthy and spiritual person - as Penelope undoubtedly was. The question “Why” haunted me, as it has haunted so many people in similar situations. Shakespeare formulated it well. When Lear comes on stage bearing in his arms the dead body of his daughter Cordelia he asks this question - Why?

Why should a dog, a cat, a rat have life,
And she no breath at all?
____________________

I have not yet found a sufficient answer for that question. For me, as a Humanist the best I can do is to describe it as an accident of Nature. We all carry damaged genetic material. In most people it has no noticeable effect; in some it leads to genius; in others to death. If it had not happened to Pen. it would have happened to somebody else and other families would have borne the grief and suffering.
A poem by William Corey helped me in this phase. He wrote it about the Greek Philosopher, Heraclitus and I have modified it for my daughter. William Corey, like Ashwin, was educated at King’s College, Cambridge.

They told me, my dear daughter, they told me you were dead.
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept as I remembered how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

Now, soon, you will be lying, my sweet but transient guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long to be at rest.
But still I hear your voices; your Nightingales awake!
Death seeketh to take all away, but these he cannot take.

Penelope’s voices, her Nightingales, will sing to all who knew her and accompany them in their journey through life. I talk to her every day. I can hear her telling me now: "Dad, don't thrust your Humanism down the throats of those who have other beliefs."
____________________

In the end, I kept returning to a poem that has been a favourite throughout my life and which has never failed to provide a point of view which I both feel and agree with – the beautiful translation by Edward FitzGerald of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. My indignation, for Penelope, is well expressed in this one quatrain:

Oh Thou, who Man of baser earth did make,
And who with Eden did devise the Snake,
For all the Sin the face of Man is black with
Man’s forgiveness give – and take!

Tribute from Mum at Pen's funeral

When the triplets were born as a mother I was quite overwhelmed with this amazing gift of three children at the same time. As a good friend of mine said at the time, they are a gift and children should be shared. I wanted for Pen and for all our three, to be loved, be happy and self-confident and hopefully to move gradually away into independent living maybe with a soul-mate. As Margaret Spufford wrote "To row out from the shore, further and further to the horizon, returning again and again to the shore after longer and longer journeys, always welcomed, until at last the horizon is passed, and the beach is no longer relevant, becoming only a familiar and loved environment to visit from islands of your own."
Pen had achieved all of these things and had remained one of my best friends.

Ash’s Tribute to Pen (funeral ceremony speech)

My dearest beloved Pen, I thank Providence for my luck. I am truly blessed to have been chosen by you to share these last 14 years, practically the whole of our adulthood. It was clear from the very first time we met, in the corridors of International Hall in London, that you were not a typical 18-year old. With time, I came to realise my good fortune, at meeting and being loved by such an extraordinary and unique human being. To have laughed and cried in your arms, to have experienced and experimented with you, to have shared with you the strong bonds of family and friends, to have been moulded by you, to have faced challenges and frustrations with you at my side, to have had you as my inspiration, my Shakti, my rock... what more could a man ask for? I hope that I have been able to repay a little of the huge debt I owe to you over the course of these years.

At our wedding, I told you that it is my greatest honour to call you my wife and I see now with glaring clarity, what I really meant. Our marriage vows are prematurely redundant, but as I help you on with your next journey, I commit to you to lead my life in a way that will forever honour who you are and what you represent:

First, my beautiful Zipumf, I promise you that I will always strive to find a thread of positive even in a bundle of unhappiness, frustration or despair. I will be inspired by your unselfconscious ability to remain positive even when the Universe seemed to be contriving against you.

My Matouk, I promise to be open to all who I encounter, to spend the time to listen to them, and to remind myself repeatedly that there is interest in everyone, provided I ask the right questions and take the time to listen. Please help me by giving me some of your natural knack of finding the questions to ask.

My Miboum, I promise to remember always that substance is eternal beauty whereas form is a mere passing glance. I will be genuine in my feelings and look for genuineness in others. I will not be moved by appearance or established practice, but be unwavering and pragmatic in my pursuit of what really matters. I will remember not to take myself too seriously and be prepared to laugh at myself.

My beloved Squidgy Bum, I vow to strive to attain your unparalleled generosity of heart and spirit. Our house will be an open and welcoming one for our friends and family, with no formality, as you have always wanted it. I will make time to listen to whoever needs a listening ear in our circle. I will try my best to consider others first and I last, as you have always been able to do.

My Mifoun, I promise to always be open to new people, views, interests and experiences and to be unfazed by difference. I will try to avoid preconceptions. I will try to see the reason behind a different perspective. I will not dismiss anything before giving it due consideration. I will remain humble in my ideas and beliefs and refrain from dogma. I will try to play devil’s advocate, just for the fun of it as you always did.

My gorgeous, I promise you that I will strive to lead a fulfilled life. You have left a gaping chasm that cannot be filled but I know you will keep a close eye on me and I will not feel sorry for myself. I will continue to be dedicated and determined at work, but I will endeavour to retain perspective. I will remember your quest to find the higher purpose in work and I will constantly pursue the same. I will travel and experience new things. I will look after our house and garden and implement the things we had discussed for the future. I will live responsibly, taking account of the impact of my actions and lifestyle. I will do more sailing. I will be more experimental and free-flowing with my cooking. I retain our ambition of opening that Mauritian restaurant.

Dearest Wiffy, I vow to always retain the things that you loved about me and made you choose me as your Hubby. I will remember who and what I am and where I came from. I will remain humble whatever I achieve and retain dignity and confidence in myself, however low I fall. I will always strive to do the right thing and to do my duty to all those around me. I will look after my parents and my brothers and I will always be there for our families. I will retain my strong friendships and be present for my friends. Everything I attempt, I will do to the best of my ability. I will always push myself and never be complacent. Please continue to inspire me as you have done all those years.

My one and only Pen, we cannot hope to understand the rationale behind what has happened to us. I can only make these promises and further promise that I will think of you every day until it is my time to join you wherever you may be. As I contemplate our insignificance and fragility, I will be comforted by your beautiful smile, and I will hear your contagious laughter.

Godspeed my love!

First post

I've never really done the blogging thing but this is a good excuse to start. I thought I could start this for me to put some of my thoughts about Pen and what has happened to us and also to allow our friends and family to do the same. This will then provide an online record of what we all feel about Pen and the events of the last few months.

Firstly, I would like to thank everyone who came to the funeral today. I think that we managed to give Pen a fitting sendoff and I found the whole thing unexpectedly uplifting, even if it was also very hard at times. I also would like to thank those who could not make it but who were very much with us in spirit.

Please feel free to contribute to this site in any way you think will honour Pen. Tributes, anecdotes, photos, dedications, anything would be welcome.

I will be posting some more over the course of the next few days. I will also post my speech here so that all our friends can keep track of how I am doing on my promises to Pen, going forward!

Hugs to all,
Ashwin.