I wake early after a hot restless night
with a longing for the ocean,
and drive to the place where the estuary flows into the sea at Budleigh Salterton.
The last time I threw wild flowers into the sea for Robin was in Portugal on his birthday .
That time the waves swallowed them up so fast and I lost sight of them in seconds.
This time my gold and amber rose petals falter in the shallow water on the river's edge,
and linger round smooth pebbles before a current catches some of them
and they drift towards the bigger rougher sea.
There was another time, in the winter time, when I did this same ritual in exactly this same place....standing with my father and my sister....throwing dried red rose petals into this estuary .....honouring and remembering my cousin who died when he was even younger than Robin.
Although you aren't supposed to take them away, I choose some lovely pebbles that I think Robin would like - speckled, veined, polished ovals and hearts - and I fill my small rucksack,
bring them to his grave,
scattering the rest of the rose petals over him,
light and soft as ashes.