She lives in you Twiggy, and she lives on in vibrant, bold and sparkling memories, imprinted upon and wrapped within the minds of her many, many friends.

There isn’t a day go by when I do not think of Emma, and I only had the joy of knowing her for a short while. Yet she is woven into the fabric of my brain like a song. It makes me think- if this is the effect she has had on me, from knowing me only a couple of years, then I can’t even imagine how brightly her flame burns in the memories of others.

Those who knew her longer, knew her deeper, knew her as you do, as family! My brain can’t even comprehend it. I feel almost like a tresspasser in my grief, because it is so intense, and feels so close, almost like the ‘volume’ (don’t know if that’s measurable) of grief carried and poured out, matches the level I have felt throughout life, for my own intimate family.

I question my right to cling so hard like this, to memories and photographs. If I am affected, so strongly, by her imprint upon my life’s story, then how (really, how!?), do her family… Remember, and live?

She is woven into the minds a hearts of anyone and everyone I think she ever encountered. She exists for ones who lost her, as a thread with the strength or a spider’s silk, spun beautifully all over the world.

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