Her name is the Hebrew form of the word cassia and means "cinnamon" and was the name of Job's middle daughter. It will always evoke for me sweetness, loyalty and spirit. At five years old and the youngest she was the very centre of their family, the one that everyone else big or small, looked out for. As she twirled and whirled and ran like a tiny breeze in those dresses she loved, she was the epitome of light and life and love. Our entire extended family is unable to understand how she could be so fully with us one minute and gone from us the very next. I sat with her on a swing this past Thursday and we talked about everything and nothing. She did not stay still for long! But I knew from that conversation and from every other interaction that I have ever had with her that she would not want me to be miserable. Surely I think, she would want us all to smile when we thought of her. The trauma of her leaving us, all of us, for we were all there, although horrific, is unequal to the joy she brought to everyone upon whom she bestowed a smile. And forever and ever the smell of cinnamon, the face of a five year old, the kindness of a little one to another, the feel of a welcome breeze, will always make me think of her. That means that she will never be far from my thoughts. And I can live with that. I must live with that.
