Hello ,

Over the last two weeks I experienced one of the most exhausting, profound and beautiful moments of my life. We were called to my mother-in-law's bedside on Friday last to say our goodbyes, and we stayed with her through to the Monday night until her last breath.

Being present for someone's death was new to me. My own mother died while we were on honeymoon, so it felt especially important to be at Jenny's side.

The experience was profound in unexpected ways. In her final days, the barriers of dementia and schizophrenia that had shaped her later years seemed to fall away. Though she couldn't speak, she connected with us genuinely for the first time in years - through her piercing blue eyes, gentle smiles, and lips pursed for kisses.

It was physically and emotionally exhausting. For four days, we watched every rise and fall of her blanket, jumped at every spasm, ready to hold her hand, sing, express our love, give her permission to let go. As her breathing became more vocal, we listened intently for any change.

But there was beauty too. Jenny was beautiful. She had lived a remarkable life - a former model who spent years in an ‘oil’ village in the Bahrain desert, mixing with sheikhs and other dignitaries, she was also an accomplished mono skier, rider and tennis player. She’d been to school in India, and had travelled the world.

Yet her life had also been marked by deep tragedy - the loss of her second son, Peter, at just 18 months old to contaminated milk. The grief, guilt, shame and rage of this loss shaped everything that followed. She had lost trust - in others, in the world, in any form of greater being.

In those final days, we realised her struggle to let go stemmed from a fear of retribution - that Peter would blame her for leaving him 65 years ago, that she had failed as a mother, that God had abandoned her. As we sang to her, we repeated the words “You are safe, you are loved, you are held” over and over again.

We read to her and spoke of love and forgiveness, telling her that baby Peter waited with only love. And tears rolled down her cheeks. When she finally took her last breath, her face was calm and beautiful - truly at peace at last.

What struck me deeply was my own struggle with letting go. Over these days of waiting, I felt the pull of work that "couldn't be put off" (though of course it could), of a life that seemed to demand my attention. But what could be more important than being present for someone's final journey? What is the point of our own lives if we can't stop to honour and respect these profound moments?

This experience has reinforced for me several crucial truths:

- True transformation requires us to release what no longer serves - whether that's guilt, fear, or our own rigid ideas of what's important

- Creating safe spaces for vulnerability and authentic connection is vital for healing

- Sometimes the bravest choice is simply to be present

- Our systems often pull us away from what truly matters, and it takes courage to resist that pull

In our fast-paced world of leadership and change, these moments remind us to pause and question our priorities. They challenge us to examine how we measure value and importance in our lives and roles.

I share this reflection with you because I believe these insights are crucial for all of us working to create meaningful change in the world. Sometimes our most powerful lessons come from these moments when life calls us to stop, be present, and simply let go.

You are safe, you are loved, and you are held.

Here’s to your brilliance.

Kirsty x