I’ve cried. I’ve barely slept. When I have slept I’ve dreamed dreams I didn’t want to. No matter what the events of the past few days though, a sense of relief, comfort and detachment washed over me like a wave as I watched the juvenile kestrels practising to fly opposite our house.

The world keeps turning and the creatures on my doorstep, in my garden, in the fields nearby were singing, flying, feeding and acting as if nothing had happened. Their tiny gestures of steadfastness in the face of the elements and predators inspired me. Windhovers keep hovering and butterflies keep flying. Those of us who care about our non-human neighbours on this earth will also keep working to help them. The context has changed but the reasons to do so are the just as, nay more, pressing. Like an old friend, a shoulder to cry on, their unfaltering presence today was a gentle reminder that I can carry on despite feeling like a huge part of my life has been ripped away. There won’t be closure, but there can be coping and adaptation.