We found out on Thursday that a dear friend had been killed in the plane crash in Libya on Wednesday. First via Facebook, a service she’d avoided for the longest of times, and then sadly confirmed via the news (BBC, Guardian). It still doesn’t seem real.
Dear Bree was one of those wonderful people who walks into your life by coincidence, but you seem to have always known. I first met her on a sunny afternoon when she arrived at our house with a co-worker of my wife’s, his car was in a local garage and they had come to relax while the work was being done. A pub lunch became an afternoon of talking, and afternoon became dinner, and as happened so many times thereafter dinner became talking and laughing until the small hours of the following day. Bree’s capacity for laughter was unbridled, and she seemed always ready to listen, advise, or share a hilarious tale of her exploits.
With our move to the United States and Bree’s return to her childhood home of South Africa we didn’t see each other as often as we’d want. Occasional emails, and eventually Face Book kept us in touch with news of her marriage, and the success of her first novel. This photograph was taken during our “Leaving for America” party in 2003.
We love you Bree, gone too soon, but never forgotten.