Natasha Richardson’s tragic death seems to have hit everyone so terribly hard. Even those who didn’t know her. And for those who did — it is unbearable. Heartbreaking. She was the most vibrant, beautiful, gracious presence. And such talent. But she was not born a beauty. Her sister, Joely, was the tall, slim, blonde stunner and Natasha was the chubby, shorter girl. It was Natasha who cooked during the summers at her father’s house in the south of France. She cooked while the houseguests went down the hill to the beach. And she cooked beautifully. She was a natural. But she had to make a choice to become beautiful. To get that fantastic figure. To sing in a musical, "Cabaret", when she wasn’t a trained singer and then to win a Tony for her performance in it. A performance which was heartbreaking. She made such an impact personally on people. There was something electric about her. And the love she shared with her dear, handsome, talented husband. The connection between them. I never met her boys. But they will suffer this for the rest of their lives. And spend the rest of their lives trying to make sense of her absence where there is none. It has shocked us all into realizing, once more, how fragile it is. That this is all a gift. An incalculable, overwhelming, precious gift that we must never take for granted. I agree with Julia on what I would like to focus on for spring. That we are all on borrowed time and should not squander a second.