What is life?
It is the flash of a firefly in the night.
It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.
It is the little shadow which runs across
the grass and loses itself in the sunset. - Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator 1830 – 1890
It’s been thirteen months since you went away, went far away into that silent land. Thirteen months since we lost you to the sunset. Thirteen times that the flowers we placed have withered by your graveside, yet your loss still feels so fresh.