Itâ€™s a year ago today since my best friend – my Best Woman â€“ Rebecca van der Putt died, aged only 38. It is true to say that not a single day has passed when I havenâ€™t thought about her.
She always enjoyed a cuppa: â€œBuilders, please, no sugarâ€
She was so woven into the fabric of my life that everything I do, and everywhere I turn in my house there is something there to remind me of the force, colour, creativity and light she brought: the gorgeous photographic portraits she took of my children; a comment she made about the colour of the walls in my hallway being â€˜blood red, the colour of womenâ€™.
With her doggies, Buster and Meg
I look in the garden and remember the absurd frog-in-the-watering can incident. I take a shower and remember the trouble she had getting the temperature just right; â€œBloody taps!â€. I do the washing and I see ‘her towel’ in the airing cupboard. I go to the loo and remember it was she who arranged the order in which the tiles should be stuck to the wall behind the sink. She is everywhere! And thatâ€™s a good thing.
Even when we were in Egypt last week, she was there with us: every day I wanted to send her postcards; we used her binoculars to watch the birds on the Nile; and I even met a doctor who had worked in the hospice where she died.
A hot dayâ€™s fishing, she stripped down to her bra. We caught loads!
The gaping Bec-shaped hole in my life is now filled with a sense of wonder that I could have so lucky to be loved by such an inspirational, free-thinking, creative and witty woman.
Bec on a Welsh mountainside, adjusting her trousers!
Bec was Best Woman and official photographer at our wedding. Here she is in action, with her wife Kate and my nephew George.
|There are so many of us whose lives she touched who today will be thinking of her, missing her, remembering her. And in a fraction of a second, she was gone.|