Dear Deborah, It is difficult for Dad to put into words how he feels, how the family feels. It is the third anniversary and it doesn’t get any better. Not a day goes past, when I don’t think about you. Deborah, you are one of the leading lights and I will never be able to work out how or why this has happened. I like to think of you in an African/English garden, playing tennis or swimming, in a garden full of all the plants that you knew and loved; mimosa, paw paw, apricot, ‘yesterday, today and tomorrow’, lemons and other citrus fruit trees. Anything African you loved. We are dancing between the showers here but the sunshine is out. I am thinking of you dancing in the rain, as I know how you loved to do that. Love Dad. XXX