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My mother loved this place, and I think about the day when we brought her up here one last time, right at the very end of her life. It was a strange afternoon; it felt to me as though it should have had more shape, more meaning, but none of us quite knew how to give it the significance we needed. Like so many things in life, you just do your best; but for a long time after we all straggled back to our waiting cars, leaving the gritty ash to blow from the tor's top, I thought every time it rained, of her body passing slowly into the moor around the tor, and becoming part of it, drawn down by the life-giving water and returned slowly to the earth.