trampled　underfoot。

Celebrations

lost　forever。

Sacrificed。

Waylaid。

Oh　my　love；　how　I　shall　mourn　them。

Many　years　ago　in　London；　I　was　visited　by　a　girl…friend　in　a　highly　emotional　state。　I　was　used　to　seeing　her　troubled；　plagued　by　doomed　or　thwarted　expectations；　often　lonely　and　depressed。

It　transpired　that　she’d　been　to　a　seance。　A　male　voice　had　sought　her　out；　telling　her；　tenderly；　how　much　he　loved　her；　how　he　wished　to　see　her　happy；　and　how　he　was　always　watching　over　her。

“It　was　my　father；”　she　whispered　tearfully。　“The　father　I　never　knew。　He　was　killed　in　the　war；　when　I　was　a　baby。”

I　reacted　with　a　certain　scepticism：　“Do　you　really　believe　there’s　such　a　thing　as　spirits？”

“Who　knows？”　she　smiled；　unperturbed。　“The　thing　is；　it　made　me　realise　that　he　would　have　felt　just　like　that。　And；　although　he’s　gone；　I　still　have　his　love。　It　is　contained　within　me。　I　just　wasn’t　aware　of　it　before。”

The　woman　I　knew　had　been　transformed。　She　stood　before　me　radiant；　secure　in　the　knowledge　that　she　was　lovable　and　loved。　Looking　at　her；　I　could　tell　that　the　person　she　had　suddenly　bee　had　a　rosy　future　ahead　of　her。

That　moment　was　a　turning…point　for　me；　too。　For；　just　like　her；　I　had　a　father　who　died　when　I　was　a　baby。

My　son　used　to　have　a　black…and…white　pet　rabbit　who　amazed　us　all。　He　was　fully　house…trained；　answered　to　his　name；　he　played　with　dinky　toys　and　went　cycling　in　a　basket　on　the　handle…bars。

He　liked　watching　the　early　evening　news；　sitting　on　the　sofa　with　the　rest　of　us；　occasionally　operating　the　remote　control　with　his　hind　paw；　or　sipping　tea　from　my　mug　when　I　wasn’t　looking。

The　rabbit　was　so　much　part　of　our　life；　we　couldn’t