Twenty four months since the symptoms; twenty two since entering the tunnel, and eighteen removed from our personal Golgotha. It is not unusual these days to find myself pausing at intervals to wonder what behind the pearly gates you may be up to at any moment in time. Very surreal is it not? I mean life without you. I frequently recall your Bakori stories with the ant hills and Sahara plains and say to myself, “Now Banke sees face to face the lovely One that once spoke with her on the Bakori mounds”. If this is all that death does, then death lost. It did rob us of your presence, but not the comfort of your memories. You are here, yet not here. There has not been a day since you left that I have not been blessed to speak your name. When I think about you I am frequently reminded of the words: “and their good deeds follow them” (Revelation 14:13). My love, it does.