the signs???

... How did I miss the indications? What were those signs? How could I have been unaware that this was looming on the horizon? As a mother, why couldn't I shield my daughter from this horrendous ordeal? These questions have been haunting me relentlessly since that tragic night. Sophie had been grappling with depression, a fact we were aware of. We conversed about it to some extent, but I lacked the expertise and was wary of exacerbating the situation. So, I encouraged her to speak with a trained counsellor in Leeds. Additionally, she maintained bi-monthly interactions with a nurse, and she was prescribed antidepressants.

Back at home, we had organised an evaluation of Sophie's mental well-being. She confided that she felt positive and believed she was making progress, hence she was reluctant to meet with the assessor. I insisted, explaining that depression comes with its good and bad days, and this could just be one of the better ones. She complied and eventually received an appointment the outcome was she needed to see a psychiatrist, scheduled for weeks later — unfortunately, it arrived the day after we lost her.

Sophie had been contending with difficulties related to the people she would share accommodations with during the upcoming university year in Leeds. I aided her in extricating herself from that arrangement and finding a new place with delightful roommates. She appeared content and joyful after completing her university term for the summer. Sophie and I engaged in numerous conversations during this time; she relished the rural life and felt at peace. She had initiated positive changes in her life in the weeks leading up to the tragedy, made plans for holidays, and we even brought home a puppy, which she adored. Life seemed promising. Her progress was palpable, and I genuinely believed she was overcoming her struggles. So, signs? I can't identify any, honestly.

In my assessment, what transpired that night was a hasty response to a distressing phone call, orchestrated by someone with malicious intent to fracture our family. I sense that Sophie aimed to shield her parents from the agony she believed she was inflicting upon us. She internalised the blame. I also suspect she felt powerless to improve her circumstances. How I wish I had the chance to convey that we could have worked through it together. She knew how immensely proud I was of her journey thus far — I reiterated it often. However, this final chapter wasn't meant to unfold that way.

On that Sunday, I spent the entire day with Sophie. We shared laughter and made plans for the future. She harboured aspirations and dreams. That's why I am convinced that Sophie didn't commit this act. It was as though a malevolent force had infiltrated her thoughts. I've replayed that night countless times in my mind, yet the answers remain elusive.

your child's funeral

I have attended a funeral in the past, but now I find myself in the unexpected position of arranging one – my daughter's. It's a daunting task to begin considering the details of her farewell when I have no prior knowledge of her preferences, as these conversations are not the type that parents usually have with a 19-year-old. Questions abound: where should the service take place? What flowers should adorn the setting? Which hymns should be sung? The choice of a coffin, burial versus cremation – these are all decisions that must be made. What attire should attendees wear? Who will carry her casket? What music should be played? And where should the gathering after the service be held? These are complex queries to answer, concepts that never crossed my mind before. Now, within a limited time frame, I must make these decisions to ensure a perfect day in honour of our beloved Sophie.

Despite the immense difficulty of this task, I wouldn't alter any of the choices we've made. Every decision was deliberate and heartfelt, crafting an event that truly reflected Sophie's essence. Throughout the service, we managed to create special moments and memories that paid tribute to her. The song that accompanied our entry into the church was one Sophie had shared with me the day before her passing – a track I was familiar with, yet the surprise of its "newness" made it a unique moment. Her brother skilfully compiled a montage featuring breathtaking images of her life, a tribute we decided to share on social media due to the outpouring of support from those gathered outside the church. This gesture garnered almost 2000 views within a day, underlining the impact Sophie had on countless lives.

Sophie's favourite colour was green, a shade we incorporated into her wicker coffin with a delicate ribbon and trim. The ladies present also adorned hints of green in their nail polish, while I opted for a full green ensemble – from my nails to my handbag and matching shoes. Her father and brother, and those who served as pallbearers, wore matching green ties, which added to the overall cohesiveness of the setting.

Selecting appropriate hymns was challenging; however, we decided on the first two that were part of both our wedding and Sophie's christening. The third hymn was a cheerful choice intended to uplift the atmosphere within the church. From the outset, I knew I wanted to be one of the pallbearers – a decision that required immense strength. It wasn't the final thing I'll ever do for Sophie, but it marked the last time I would carry her.

Following the church service, we held a more private gathering at the crematorium with close family and friends. This allowed us to share a more intimate service, complete with songs that held deep significance for us. As for the wake, the obvious choice was the family pub. Our incredible friends took charge, managing the drinks and catering, enabling us to bid farewell to our cherished daughter – a kindness for which I'll be eternally grateful.

Discovering My Child Through Familiar Words

As a parent, there are moments in life that challenge us to our very core. Some memories are etched into our souls, forever altering the way we perceive the world. One such moment occurred in my life when I unexpectedly stumbled upon a conversation, filled with familiar words that sent shivers down my spine. Words like "autopsy," "corona," and "embalming" slowly revealed a truth that I was unprepared to face – these seemingly ordinary nouns were referring to my own beloved child.

It was an ordinary day, just like any other, until a series of events unfolded that would shake my world to its foundations. Words I had encountered in my everyday life – in the news, medical dramas, and discussions with friends. Yet, this time, they carried an unimaginable weight as they were connected to my very own child.

An autopsy – a word I knew was related to post-mortem examinations. My child is at James Cook hospital, getting an autopsy and all I can think is why is she having work done at a hospital alone ? why am I not there with her?

Corona –I now find myself speaking directly to a corona, telling me what happens next, she gave me the results of the autopsy and explaining that there will be an inquest into her death and this will go to court ????

Embalming – a practice I had heard of in the context of funeral preparations.

These words were intricately linked to my child's life, or more tragically, their untimely passing.

In the midst of this heart-wrenching realisation, I have climbed on a roller coaster of emotions, grief, despair, denial.I learned that vulnerability is not a weakness, but a testament to the strength of the human spirit. I sought solace in the support of loved ones who shared my burden, offering their shoulders to lean on during the darkest of days.

Though the pain is unbearable, I realised that holding on to cherished memories was the path to healing. I started to celebrate the beautiful moments I had shared with my girl, cherishing her laughter, love, and joy that had brightened my life.

In the face of profound loss, I discovered the resilience within myself to navigate through grief. I channelled my pain into spreading awareness about the causes that touched my child's life, turning my agony into a mission for change.

Life has a way of confronting us with unexpected challenges, and it is in these moments that we unearth the strength within ourselves to overcome adversity. As I continue to walk this path of grief, I hold dear the memories of my precious girl, keeping her spirit alive through advocacy and love. May my story serve as a reminder to cherish every moment with our loved ones, for life is both fragile and beautiful, and we must embrace it with open hearts.