I'm not sure where to begin. It's September of 2002, and I've just found out through a completely unrelated web search about Menya's relapse into illness, and death. It's a shock - my last memory of Menya is her radiating happiness, with Pete by her side some four years ago. I remember being so happy that she'd finally found someone, found joy. I don't remember when I first saw or met Rhiannon (but it was most assuredly within the SCA) - but I remember her music, and a sadness from those early times. Pete had clearly brought her immense joy, and chased away those shadows - and it's that beaming love that I remember best. Earlier memories - her harp music, being allowed to plunk at her harp - sleeping on the floor of her apartment, in the late afternoon sun, like a lazy cat - the astounding artwork and research that came so easily to her.

I still plonk at the harp - one of my own now - and it always reminds me of her - now in a far more poignant way. I still have a book of hers, long borrowed - long lost - long forgiven.

A string sounds into the dark
and heralds dawn.

c.