It is my very sad responsibility

to let all of you who are regular readers of this blog know that the wonderful child I called "Ms W" or "the Whirlwind" left us yesterday. It was totally unexpected. It was very sudden. 

I am not thinking too clearly at the moment. She was absolutely fine over the weekend. She came rushing in on Sunday morning asking me how to do something before going to cook her father a special "Father's Day" lunch - and complaining cheerfully about the amount of homework she had been given.

On Tuesday morning she went to "Matron" at school and, according to A..., told her she "felt a bit funny" before collapsing in front of her. She was rushed to hospital but died yesterday afternoon with her father at her side. I was not allowed to go in as I am not considered to be legally "family".  Despite that a member of the staff phoned me and actually arranged for her husband to come and pick me up. I will always be grateful for that because it meant I could be there for her father as he left ICU and make the call to his senior. His senior is taking matters from there, another thing I am grateful for because it isn't something I could handle well. C.... wants me there later today but I am trying to give him space this morning.

Ms W - I can think of her no other way - was a wonderful, funny and caring child. In so many ways she was wise beyond her years. She tried so hard to take her mother's place, even when she was very young. It was so important to her that she learned to cook - "so that my Dad will eat proper meals" - and to look after  the house - "because my Dad forgets things like doing the washing". She was at the top of her class at school and worked hard to stay there. She was popular at school and much of that had to do with the fact that she never minded helping someone else and could be relied on to do it well. 

Her dreams and plans included studying languages "because you have to be able to talk to people who don't speak English" and travelling "when my Dad and I can go away again". She desperately wanted to go to England and actually meet a friend who has written a number of books for teenagers. N...included something she had written in one of them and she was so proud of that, and proud of the fact that N..., "a real writer", had always answered her emails. She wanted to meet R..., the retired professor of Spanish, who supported her desire to study languages and sent her so many silly jokes that she loved to share at school and elsewhere. 

I wrote books for her, more than one. She shared them among her peer group at school. They wanted more and I loved her for that as for so many other things. There is a half-made cardigan here for her that she will never wear. I can hear her saying, "Give it to someone who needs it" but it is going to be difficult to finish it. I will, although perhaps not just yet. I will because she was generous and displayed the sort of unconditional love of so many that few  of us can aspire to.

I don't want to go into her room at home. I want to shut the door and leave it just as it is. I want her to be here, for herself, for her father and for everyone who knew her.

No, she wasn't perfect - nobody is - but she tried very hard "not to be a horrible teenager".  Ms W was anything but that.  I'll miss you my Whirlwind.