Pam has gone.

I dropped Pam over the Huka Falls today. It was rather sad to see her go and to know that I won't have her around to talk to any more. I have known Pam for many years now, and we have worked together, internationally for the last three. She was such a strong, courageous person, but so frail and little. Her eyes were deep brown and her smile was contagious. She was always dressed perfectly, nails painted, hair just so, right up to the time she died.

Pam has been with me since July last year when I was in Germany at one of our conferences, and asked if I would take some of her ashes to spread here in New Zealand. I've not been asked to do anything like this before, and I was rather amazed to think I'd been charged with such a task. The small blue/green silk drawstring bag held inside it a pink gauze bag, and inside that again was a small plastic bag, sealed, with her ashes inside.

This summer has been a journey with Pam. We have travelled up to the lake together, Pam and I, stopping at a lookout over Vinegar Hill where she laughed to see sheep so close to where she was standing. We stopped on the Desert Road where she admired Mt Ruapehu and the clouds which she said were so beautiful. We took a walk around the back of the Tokaanu hotpools where she was amazed at the raw beauty of the steaming pools, and lastly, we stopped again at the Huka falls where she stood and watched the power and drama of the aqua water surging and boiling underneath the bridge.

Pam has gone now, but I was reminded of the song, The Wind Beneath my Wings, and just briefly, I felt as though she was with me still. I have been thinking about the work she did as president of our international organisation, and I have thought carefully all this last year about whether I would, as I have been asked to, take over this position at our next General Assembly. I could do the task - differently, of course - but I hope they find someone stronger than I am.

To each his own.