My Daughter

Today would have been our daughter's first birthday. This was the first picture I ever took, not long after she was born. It is weird, one year on from the moment she was born, and having lost her back in January. Not sure how I feel at the moment, other than sad. Normally, a birthday would be a time of celebration, but how do you celebrate when she is gone? We've not been staying at home feeling sorry for ourselves, as that would do us no good and be too depressing. Instead we headed out to see where we want to move to, since we don't like either the flat we live or the area. Our Woodland Trust fund is doing well. More money to go in it too. By this time next year we'll have raised what we need to dedicate a post for Millie in some nice woodland somewhere. Then, one this day, we can always go and visit it, which will be lovely & special. The last picture I took We miss you. Simon & Lorraine.

Yesterday was the funeral of our daughter. It started by the two of use viewing her body, which was so much harder than I expected it to be. She looked so different, so very much a body rather than the little girl who left us. Although it was difficult, and there were tears aplenty, I am glad we saw her one last time, if only for the sense of closure. The funeral itself was lovely, and it was nice to see so many of our friends and family in attendance, most of whom had to travel a fair distance in order to be there. Some of them we hadn't seen for years, as we'd lost touch with people with all the trouble of the past few years; so it was nice to reconnect, albeit under circumstances that we wouldn't have wished for. Lorraine wrote a eulogy for our daughter, which I thought I would share here. To our dear family and friends, I just wanted to say a huge thank you on behalf of Simon and I for the outpouring of love and support you've given us over the

Amelia Iris Forster: born 31/10/12, died 26/01/13. My daughter died last night. It was the most awful experience I have ever been through, and not something I ever want to go through again. No one should have to experience that, and for all those who have, my heart goes out to you. She died in our arms, as peacefully as she could, and I don't think she felt any pain in the end. But it was hard, awful, and I can't get those last minutes out of my head. With time that will ease, and I'm remember her the way she was when she was getting better. For now, we will deal with the grief, sort out her arrangements, and allow life to move on to whatever happens next. We are both strong and coping well all things considered, and I know we'll get through it, but for the moment it is painful, tearful, and bloody hard. We were lucky to have our families with us yesterday, which gave us the support we needed to see us through the day. Our thanks and love go out to them.