‘In his infinite wisdom He took you away.
I never shall forget that day.
No fond farewell, no plain goodbye.
Too ill to live, to soon to die.
I want you back,
I won’t let you go,
I need you here,
I miss you so…’

I didn't choose the title of my book myself, it was my mother's and Nana's idea. 'The Infinite Wisdom of Harriet Rose'. It says it all.

I had always called my collection 'The Meditations of Harriet Rose, A Thinking Adolescent', because that's what I am. But in a way, as my mother pointed out, the title was mine, as it came from one of my Meditations which I wrote on the day of my father's funeral. It was my way of letting him know that his death would not deter me from my writing - he would not have wanted that to happen. And just in case he could still see me, I wanted him to know that far from having been deterred, my writing had now become a means of communicating with him, just like the pen he once bought me for my birthday which I use to write my Meditations. Do you think he knows that? Do you think he can read my words? Is he as proud of my title as we are - me, my mother and Nana, those he left behind?

I don't want to make my book sound tragic, because it's not. In fact many of the Meditations will make you laugh. Laugh and cry sometimes at the same page. I liked to make my father laugh like Basil Brush. It's his laugh I remember most.