Forget Me Not 2016

Forget Me Not 2016


Yesterday, we attended the annual Forget Me Not Remembrance Service at the N.I. Children’s Hospice. As always, it was very moving and very beautiful.

My favourite part this year was the staff choir. There is something incredibly special about having the staff who cared for your child in their last days/hours ministering to you in song.

The staff take the entire service, which is also very special. Their loving support for the families of the children they have cared for, continues for as long as it is needed. This year the staff choir sang a song entitled This is the Sound of One Voice:

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Hear your voice though your heart is crushed
This is the sound of all of us
This is the sound of all of us

One of the staff members who spoke told us that to care for someone is to learn the song that is in their heart and to sing it to them when they have forgotten it. How true this is; these people possess so much wisdom. Another one said that there will be days when there won’t be a song in your heart, but sing anyway. This resonated with me, as music has been so much a part of my journey with Leah and her illness.

To care for someone

During the refreshments afterwards the nurse who cared for Leah on the 16th January 2014 came to speak with us. We had never spoken to her since that day, she talked about the positive impact that Leah’s last moments had on her own life. Her words blessed me immeasurably.

She also told us about having made a poster for the door of Leah’s room that morning before we arrived, with One Direction on it. However, as family members started to arrive, she spoke to them to find out about Leah’s likes and dislikes. She soon discovered that Leah definitely wasn’t a One Direction fan, but that she did love music. She scrapped the original poster and made a new one.



I’m very glad that she did, because that poster meant so much to me. While Leah was in ICU, she had to wear a hospital gown because of all the tubes that were connected to her. On one occasion, I returned to Leah’s room to find that the nurses had dressed my unconscious daughter in a gown that was completely imprinted with the words hospital property. I was absolutely devastated. I stood there staring at it in horror, as I silently asked myself “Is this what my gorgeous daughter has become, a piece of hospital property?

hospital property print_13491

When we arrived that day at the Children’s Hospice for Leah’s end of life care  and I saw the poster on her bedroom door with her name on it, I knew that we were in the right place. Before we left, I went back down the corridor and photographed this poster, because it meant so much to me.

This nurse also told us about a little boy who hadn’t much time left and wanted to pet a giraffe before he died. He was much too ill to be taken to Belfast Zoo  so they contacted the Zoo and arranged for a real live young giraffe to be brought to visit this child in his room at the Children’s Hospice – isn’t that just so amazing??!!

After leaving the Hospice we called at Monkstown Woods  to visit the Butterfly Grove. Leah is remembered there because of the fundraising that so many of you have done in her name for the Children’s Hospice.

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Then it was time to for us to go to Leah’s Auntie Evelyn’s house for tea. Evelyn had invited some other family members to be there also, along with Leah’s ‘adopted’ Auntie Marion. A few years ago Leah asked Evelyn’s friend Marion if she could ‘adopt’ her as an auntie.

We had lovely food, sat in the warm sunshine – yes the sun does occasionally shine in Ireland – and we enjoyed each other’s company. When I thanked Evelyn for providing such a lovely tea for us, she reminded me that it was exactly what Leah would have wanted; Leah was always happiest when surrounded by family and friends and she loved good food.

I think that we honour our loved ones best when we take the time to be together and do those things that they enjoyed doing.


Guest Blog – Forget Me Not

Guest Blog – Forget Me Not

Today was the annual “Forget Me Not Service” of Celebration and Remembrance organised by the N.I. Children’s Hospice.

Last year I wrote a blog post about this service, which you can read here

It’s my 3rd most popular blog post.

This year I will let Georgie’s Mum Oana give you her perspective on the event:

Mama's Haven

This afternoon, we attended the annual Forget Me Notservice organised by the Northern Ireland Children’s Hospice for the first time.

It was as emotional and raw and sweet and consoling as we had expected.

We cried and we remembered our precious children and we smiled at the memories we had made with them in the hospice.

Collective grief. Collective mourning. Collective beauty rising from the ashes of loss…

We heard about love that transcends death and time and makes a way for our emotions to find our lost beloved babes.

The pain of grief was compared to the thorn and the forget me not flower.

Grief is and forever will be for every parent and relative present there a painful reminder of what we have lost and also the ultimate indicator of how much we have loved.

Sorrow and sweetness, amalgamated in one.

Pain and endurance, blended together.


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The Forget Me Not Service

The Forget Me Not Service


Yesterday 12 of us went to the N.I. Children’s Hospice for their annual “Forget Me Not” Service. It was very moving to be together with so many people each grieving the loss of a child. The service was quite simple but I found it very emotional. Before the service started there was an opportunity to display a photo of Leah and attach messages to it.


The service opened with the choir singing the song “Somewhere only we know” that is associated with the 2013 John Lewis Christmas Advert. Just before Christmas 2013, Leah and I were invited to a school assembly at her former primary school, to receive a cheque for monies they had raised to support the Clic Sargent charity.

However that morning the pain from Leah’s spinal fracture was very severe and she was unable to come with me. I wept for most of the 15 minute drive from home to the school. It just felt so wrong that my daughter – who was supposedly recovering and “getting better” – seemed to have so much pain and a decreasing quality of life.

Every month since her transplant in August, Leah had developed a new complication or side effect. I found it hard to escape the nagging sense of uneasiness that I felt in my heart regarding Leah’s medical condition.

At the school assembly that morning they played the John Lewis Advert to illustrate a point in the principal’s talk. We don’t have a live television connection at home so I didn’t hear the song again until yesterday, but it immediately caused me to remember the sad feeling I had that December morning, that something in my daughter’s body just wasn’t quite right.

Leah’s hospital consultant in Belfast was very vigilant and very protective of her and she was being very closely monitored, so nothing was ever missed that could possibly be treated. In a discussion I had with Leah’s Bristol consultant after her death, he & I concluded that a mother’s intuition can sense things that can’t be picked up by blood tests or X-rays.

The hospice have two large memory books containing the life stories of the children who have died and these are carried up to the front during the service.


Many weeks ago our hospice outreach nurse gave us blank sheets of card to write Leah’s life story for insertion in the Memory Book but these remained blank, as the thought of filling them in just seemed too painful for me. Last Tuesday a very kind friend came to our house and helped me to fill these pages in for insertion in the Memory Book before the service today.


After the service we collected Leah’s memory stone and carried it out to the Quiet Garden and Rachel chose a space in which to place it.


We spent some time chatting to parents whom I first met through work nearly nine years ago. When Leah was a little girl she met their very ill wee baby and her heart was moved to pray for that wee baby every night, during the time that I was in contact with them.

After we left the Children’s Hospice, Leah’s Auntie Evelyn had us all back to her house for tea. Leah and I stayed with Evelyn in Belfast for two weeks when we first returned from Bristol and I hadn’t been back to her house since, so I found that very emotional too.

However it was just lovely to have that time together – we were well fed, we enjoyed each other’s company and we managed a few laughs too.