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Three days after Sifra died, on the day she was expected to have been born, Anette and I took the dogs out for a long walk.

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We had not made it fully out of town when the sun started its brilliant display.

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Somehow, the sky always reminds me that to everything in life, there is a different perspective. From above, things look very different than down here.

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Although the sunset was golden and intense,

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…my heart connected with the lone tree that had been cut and then grown sideways, reaching for the sky.

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Bruised but not broken, tragedy reminds us to cherish the moments we have and enjoy every person in our lives. There are so much love in our hearts, but often, it takes pain to remind us.

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As the colours intensified, we took the dogs to climb the rocks. From up there, the horizon owns the view.

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For the youngsters, it was a first time.

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Malva, the most watchful of them all, posed against the sunset, waiting for Anette to make it to the top.

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The rest of the pack joined her.

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The sky grew pink and dramatic. A perfect day to skywatch, but my heart was elsewhere.

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While the youngsters demanded my attention,

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…Sheba was a pondering version of herself, never going far from my side. She’s the kind of dog I don’t have to explain things to, but only asks to be included.

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Include, I could. Explain would have been a different matter. There is a time when the heart feels with intensity but offers no words to describe its journey.

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Pain does not come readily processed. It’s a journey we must walk and a cost we must allow us to feel.

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Today is Sifra’s funeral, some 7000 km away.

My heart is with her family.

For other skies around the world, click here.