Back in 2002 I stumbled across this book (I’d like to say in the corner of a dusty little bookshop off Carnaby Street) in my Mums kitchen. Clover were giving away books with their massive tubs.

I hadn’t read in a while. I had a baby and was off to the caravan with my family. Looking back I was just a scared little girl trying to be a gown up. I turned 21 a month after Mia was born. I was single and living at home with my parents. Although fully competent I didn’t feel enough of an adult to be a Mum. So I read a book.

The Gift by Danielle Steel. I had not read or have since read a Danielle Steel novel because I truly believe I was only meant to read that one. This isn’t a book report I am not telling you what the book was about just what I learned.

We are lent not given. We do not own each other and we do not own this planet. We are guests (albeit terrible ones) Life is our gift, but life cannot be without death. It’s a package deal but death seems to be the small print no one reads. For me excepting death as part of life changed me. I don’t know why my sister died but she did. More importantly tho, she lived. She was a gift.