Valentine's Day death: My heart sank at holiday discovery
WAKING up to an unfolding drama outside our holiday apartment was not the way I expected to face the morning of Valentine's Day.
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By Cynthia Hoogstraten
WAKING up to an unfolding drama outside our holiday apartment was not the way I expected to face the morning of Valentine's Day.
The body of a young woman was found washed ashore, by an early morning surfer.
As police went about their grim duties and regulars to the park stood in silence, my heart sank as I looked out at the treacherous seas before me and wondered about the life of this unidentified individual.
What were the circumstances of her death? Who were her friends and family? What was her life like and what made her a unique person?
I began to think about how we could honour her soul, even though she was a stranger to us, she had left an indelible memory.
The previous day I had woven a small basket with found fibres and picked up a white feather which I attached to it.
I had not thought to whom I would gift it to, but it seemed fitting now as the perfect offering to place on the beach where she had rested.
Together with my friend we collected flowers, stones, shells and natures offerings and created a mandala on the sand.
Incense was later burnt to cleanse the space and to acknowledge her spirit. It was obvious that this devotional gift attracted attention as others added to the shrine and some sat or stood nearby to pay tribute.
Rituals are an expression of remembrance, an offering of self-sacrifice in that they take effort and time to present.
It is a reflection to honour a person's soul and a way to move forward. Valentine's Day allowed me to contemplate on how precious life is, to be grateful for so much and consider the true meaning of love.
Originally published as Valentine's Day death: My heart sank at holiday discovery
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