My heart fell when I read the email. I had had a bad network connection when I was in Nairobi and couldn't access my email so the news was a week old.
I met Tanja when she was about fifteen or sixteen. I guess I was about nineteen or twenty. For the next five or eight years - the band years - we travelled in the same social circles. We were friends, her friends and my friends.
Maybe you remember her and if so you could only have good memories. Maybe you never met her. Or maybe you knew her better than me and your grief is much deeper than mine. I'm sorry for your pain.
Tanja and her husband died in the bushfires. I'm sitting alone in the Aisha Hotel outdoor bar in Moshi Tanzania crying over an amarula on ice while George Michael is singing about how he's never gonna dance again.
I wish I was with you, my friends. I wish I could go to the funeral and talk about "Remember when" and we could support each other in our grief.
I feel as if a colour has been permanently erased from the rainbow or like there's a fruit I can no longer taste or a flower that no longer has a fragrance. It's the feeling of losing something unique, precious and irreplaceable.
Perhaps you find yourself in a similar situation. A lot of people died in those fires. I am sorry for your loss.
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,25046752-5018723,00.html
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