"This is the first Autumn without Ingrid, but who she was is part of how I experience the air - the colours of the leaves - the people preparing for the winter ahead. Who she was in part of what I understand about life, about being a woman - a mother - an actress, about the sorrows and the joys and the choices.

Who she was is part of what I know about strength and courage, and thus, for me, she is still alive.

I worked with her on "Autumn Sonata" some years ago and I used to sit and watch her - feeling such pride, over who she was. That happens sometimes in an encounter with a human being who is not your family, but so real and so much alive that she makes you feel good just to be part of the family of man. And though this Autumn is without Ingrid, she is still here - in all the different ways she touched your life and mine.

I used to sit and watch her - thinking of her face in "For Whom The Bell Tolls" - that face an entire world learned to love.

And then I looked at the woman of "Autumn Sonata" - age had left its mark, but it was life which had written the real story on Ingrid's face - everything that she had experienced and given and lost.

Dearest Ingrid - it is Autumn in Sweden - it is Autumn in all the other countries you made your home. The voices of those who once hurt you are no more of importance - and the people who turned their backs on you are no more heard of.

While you, through all you gave us,will continue speaking to us and awaken love and warmth and joy - while you will always face us with your free spirit and with your wonderful smile and with your eyes, which are of tomorrow and thus always looking ahead.

And so wisely is life constructed, that in the end the cameras of intolerance and envy and judgement will be quiet, because they speak from a dark prison out of which compassion never emerges.

While they who share with us their life and dance in front of us, the roads we struggle to walk and they who touch with spirit what we want but dare no touch ourselves - they will for ever live on in our hearts like a song - a lovely echo resting in our soul.

Ingrid, you once said to me "When the clowns come into town, the dogs come out to howl" and your laughter filled the room and you would, in a glimpse, represent all the travels, adventures of those who have roots in no country but themselves!

And as you lived a life of courage, you approached death with courage and left behind a message that death can be a reunion with those we love, with those who had to go before.

In your last hours of life you said your mother was there with you - was there close to you - and so you, who as a little girl lost the loving presence of her - you were to experience in your last hour that one most difficult journey is not one we have to walk alone.

Ingrid, I believe you are here today, close to those you loved the most, your children, to Lars, and close to your best friends, but also there for all of us who were fortunate enough to be touched by your life as we knew it. Touched by the way you loved.

And, as is the case of love, it is not a symbol but a meaning of a very real human being.

For us this occasion is one of sorrow and memory and then silence. For you the most unending moments of your life were inspired by love and thus not solemn alone but spurred by an enjoyment of life.

And so it is the joy or your life we must remember - ever more now that you are no longer here to remind us.

In your spirit we will look ahead. Thank you, Ingrid, for enthralling us to do so with an enriched life.

Submitted by Mary, with thanks to Irene Holloway, London