I went and sat by myself for a longtime in Victoria Park. I rode my bike, and went close to the edge of the soup-like so-called lake at the centre, shrouded from view by weeping willows. It seemed fitting somehow to be surrounded by these forlorn trees, lured by the water yet never quite reaching it. I cried for what seemed like hours till I thought I must be sitting in a lake of my own making.

I had been speaking to her a few days before, about plans, about her new 250 camera. Then all of a sudden, life took a nasty turn. Epilepsy, let's not underestimate it, and the power of chance. Octavia had been reading a book by the poolside in a friend's house she was minding in France. It started to get dark, so she went inside, forgetting her book by the pool. Later, alone, she headed to bed. Then remembered she had left her book outside. On her mission to find her book, she had a fit, and instead of falling to her left onto the grass by the pool, she fell to her right, and hit her head on cold, hard, concrete bordering the pool. Then fell in the water, and the seizure overtook, and she drowned.

All was recounted on CCTV.

I took this picture for a book we put together for her memorial. A compendium of memories charting the many reasons why Octavia was one of the most inspiring individuals I had ever met. It's such a waste...

This picture reminds me too, that no matter how bad my day is, this was a worse day.

I miss you Occy, more than you could ever know.

Related tags:

alone, death, memorial

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