15th November 1995 my little Sister died suddenly. Yes we knew she was ill, yes we knew she would likely not live until adulthood with her problems, but the doctors said it would be a slow decline. None of us were prepared for her to collapse that morning and despite my dad doing CPR as well as the ambulance team working on her they would say to us she was dead on arrival at A&E (ER)
She was 5 years old.
Somehow me and my younger brother and sister arrived at A&E. (I was looking after them when my parents went in the ambulance with Laura.) We sat in the relatives room and they brought my dead sister in to hold. My parents took photographs of us with her.
The next day was my brother’s sixth birthday. He had the hall booked and an entertainer and we had a birthday party. I helped with the catering. A few times that week the undertaker came to the house he was really nice. Our cat used to try sit on his knee.
One day my parents decided Laura would come home. The wicker cot my parents made for me and all five of us slept in as babies was placed on the dining table with Laura in it. She stayed there for the whole day. I prayed and begged and pleaded for God to bring her back but it made no difference.
Mum cried a lot. I did what I could to help her with the younger children. We carried on with life as normal.
This happened in 1995 and this day is always a difficult one for me.
I was hoping in writing to this to connect to some of the feelings but I still feel as detached as ever writing this. Thanks for taking the time to read it.