I have always associated Zia with the winter, it was the season in which she was born and died, it is the season during which I had my happiest moments of hoping and my saddest moments of despair. I remember the chill in my bones the morning I went into hospital to hear that she was gone, I remember wrapping my coat about me and feeling the chill on my cheeks and nose. I remember the cold nights without her and how I felt like I would never be warm again. But then one winter later yellow flowers started to bloom in our garden and the yellow butterflies would visit and play. Yellow became her colour and I would see it every where, yellow roses, yellow Proteas. Those are some of the beautiful things that Zia lives in, her messages of love to our family. There are so many but I wpould like to share these today.