Movement

The movement of life is not linear. Yet there is a direction it knows to go. Like the flowers and vines intrinsically grow in a particular direction; though sometimes stifled by inherited genes and surroundings.

We move forward and back, side to side, high and low, sometimes it all comes to a startling halt. Our growth is punctuated by feats conquered, trauma internalized, inspiration cultivated and sown. We come from the earth and inevitably move toward it.

Movement brings darkness and light, blurred together in a dance that irrevocably shapes us anew. Our veins pumping with nourishing water, creating a watercolor of scars and wrinkles that become even more beautiful with age.

And while the perils of a life fully lived continue to nip at our heels, we can find solace in the story thus far, and all there is still left to discover.

The movement of life is unapologetically not linear, nor the perfect shade. But that is the beauty of it.

Lavishly devoted: a floral tribute to Rona Besterman

When she loved you, she loved you fiercely.

She carefully guarded her tender heart, but once you became part of her tribe, Rona wore it proudly on her sleeve.

She possessed a kind of grace and gentleness that made your nerves soften. Rona was that kind-hearted, sweet women you didn’t mind sharing a car ride with, a coffee, or an office. She knew how to read the subtleties of the room. She understood when it was time for silence, or when a warm conversation was needed.

A love for nature, travel, culture and story. Deeply sensitive, she felt what you felt.

She would fight for you, listen to you, accept you no matter what.

Her internal strength carried her through much heartache, illness, and loss. Until the end, she persevered with steadfast, eternally devoted love.