n many ways, the date doesn’t matter, but it was April 8th. The date, and the time and the location are seared into my memory.

It was the date that my beautiful baby daughter was born asleep. It was the day when time simply stood still, when the vibrant colours of early spring turned to shades of grey.

The few minutes before were the last time that I truly felt as though life was perfect, the gaping hole that opened up afterwards convinced me that it wasn’t.

It was the last time that I said ‘Why me?’ rather than ‘Why not me?’.

Her name was Elizabeth, she was beautiful and precious and she was gone.

The worst day.