In the eleven and a half years that have passed since the bombing of Pan Am 103, I have learned so very much about love and grief and life. I recall how excruciatingly painful the first spring was after the bombing — and indeed so many springs thereafter. How possibly could life be springing anew everywhere, when the man I loved was dead, and it seemed as though my soul, too, was dying within. Somewhere along the way, though, I began to see that the message of spring was a powerful and universal one, found in so many religions and different cultures. It was hardly a surprise that within the Christian faith, the death and resurrection of Christ was said to happen in the spring…I began to find first solace and later hope in the fact that the way of the world is that life, no matter what, begins again. And as long as there is life, and renewal, there is hope. So this year, my eleventh Spring post-Pan Am 103, I do feel that my late fiancé is with me, in my heart, looking at the joy and beauty of this season.
