Lou had a lot of people in her life she loved and they loved her. I was lucky to be one of those people. I’d like to tell you about some of that love we had to share. In March 1992 I received a telephone call asking me to attend a job interview. The bright bubbly voice on the other end of the line was Lou’s. That was to be the very first time we spoke to each other, I still remember it to this day. As the years went by we became close friends. On 10th April 1996 we went out for a drink at the Torbay Inn in Fisher Street. She came back home with me that night for a glass of wine. It turned out to be the longest glass of wine in history. She didn’t leave until 19th January 2009. We both sacrificed a lot for that to be, but those sacrifices and every struggle just made us closer and our bond grew stronger. Our relationship with each other was straight forward we were a team, we felt comfortable with each other, it felt natural, living separate lives seemed alien to us. She said I calmed her down, but that was complemented by the way she brought me out of myself. Lou loved everyone in a unique individual way. The love we had for one another was no different. If any of you didn’t understand our relationship it’s simple. We loved each other; in our own very special way. She called me her rock; but she was also my rock, something I have felt all the more since her loss as my rock has now gone. She could light up a room just by walking into it with that infectious laugh. She also had a strong character with principles she would stick to, never waivering from what she thought was the right; even if that meant upsetting others. In the last 2 weeks I have had to be an ambassador to those principles. I know this has been difficult for some of you. If anyone has been upset please forgive me. I hope in time you will understand why I had to make those choices. Lou made me promise her. I will continue to protect her legacy and allow no one to come between me and what I know she would have wanted for her children. I will allow no one, no matter who they are, to undermine her wishes or her principles. I know I have the support of her family in that duty. If anyone upsets me they will also have Lou’s mum and dad to answer to. It was Lou’s strength of character that carried her through her illness as well as her vitality for life . She never once talked of giving up; she fought until the very last. I was privileged to spend a lot my time with Lou through her illness and last months, it was no burden or hardship to be there for her, I was her rock after all; nor was it a burden for the rest of her close family to support her. During this time me and Lou grew even closer. At her side when she was diagnosed, when she was told the treatment had failed, when she was told the cancer was in her bone marrow and of course the moment she passed. Each time her first thought was not for herself, but for me sat next to her and the family she would have to go home and break the news to. She would look at me in the consulting room and ask if I was OK. Typical of Lou, she always put others first. I was sat by her bed in hospital one day and like she had done before, during our private moments, she asked me to talk to her about life after death and if we continued on. She knew I believed we do. Lou could only deal with hard facts, I knew she didn’t want preaching to. On the bed was a newspaper with a picture of a snowflake. A scientist had developed a way of taking photographs of snowflakes as they fell. It was a beautiful thing to see. I pointed to that picture and said there was all the proof you need. Each snowflake was unique and mathematically perfect. Each part of every snowflake was divided by the ratio 1.618 like all things in nature. How can that be just an accident? Every time it snows now I will think of Lou. I heard someone say there were no miracles this time because she died. That made me think. Perhaps there were miracles, but we just couldn’t see them at the time. This was not the first time Lou had had cancer. She had it 3 years ago. In that 3 years Aschanti, the youngest daughter, grew and will now remember her mum, which, if Lou had died 3 years ago, would not have happened. That was something Lou worried about. She saw all her children grow and mature in those 3 years. For her to see that was, perhaps, a miracle in itself. We had a wonderful family holiday in Greece, a place we have many fond memories of; and a place Lou loved more than anywhere else on earth. Going there one more time with her, was yet another little miracle; going there without her will be one more hurdle to overcome; but she’ll want us to go back and have a drink for her. In November 2008 she was told the chemotherapy hadn’t controlled the cancer. It was the last thing we were expecting to hear that day, apparently I turned grey when the doctor broke the news. Again she was more worried about me. They said she only had about a month left to live. She came home determined not to give up and she fought to give her children a very special Christmas; and did just that. Surely another miracle? Right now the hurt is too great, the wounds are too raw, but in time we will learn to look back and appreciate the time we were allowed with Lou and understand what a miracle that was. But what of our hurt? All of us feel the pain and loss, but spare a thought for the mum and dad that have lost a daughter. A brother that’s lost a little sister. The children that have lost a mum who loved them so much. Spare a thought for them today and it will put your grief into perspective; as great I’m sure it is. As for me, I have lost the a great Mum, my soul mate, my best friend, my strength and my rock. Like all of us I must try and move on. It won’t be easy. I feel grief, hurt and anger at her loss. More than I can ever express in words. So, now, lets celebrate Lou, don’t mourn her. Cancer took Lou from us. Don’t let cancer take anything else from us. It mustn’t take away our faith that she is still here with us, watching over us. Don’t let cancer spoil our memories, shatter our hope, eat away our peace. Cancer didn’t destroy Lou’s confidence, silence her courage or invade her soul. Don’t let cancer quench our spirit or take away our belief in eternal life. Lou never did. Don’t let grief be a cancer in our lives. Let Lou’s memory be an inspiration to us all; do not allow the grief of her loss to be something to hold us back and destroy our hopes and dreams; she would never want that. So Carol and Martin, I would like to say to you both, with all my heart and on behalf of everyone here today thank you for blessing our lives with such a wonderful daughter, I know she loved you both so much. Robert, her brother. I have a message for you from Lou. In the end the result of the test made no difference, even if you had been a match, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Guilt is like a cancer too, it can eat away at you inside. She loved you all the more for trying and blamed you for nothing, she wanted you to know that and just how much she loved you. Logan, Tay, Bryn, Blaine & Ash. In you we will see Lou alive and well every day. Your mum placed upon me the task of keeping you together as a family, a promise I will do my best to keep, I love all of you. If the last two weeks is anything to go by, this will be made all the easier by the love and support of the people around us. Most of us have all pulled together as a family, in not putting ourselves first and thinking only of the children. Her immediate family have done that without question. A special thank you to Allan. He was there with me during Lou’s last few minutes, he shared the pain of that moment with me, I’ve wondered if that was through design more than accident. Was Lou at work in heaven even then? I know it‘s been hard for you while I have been tending to Lou’s estate and organising today. You‘ve allowed me the time and space to do what I had to. I understand your loss and you mine more than anyone here else because of that final moment we shared with Lou. Thank you to the children’s schools.Your support has been overwhelming. Many of you knew Lou as a colleague and all her family appreciate your work with the children. And to all the staff at Torbay Hospital thank you. You pulled out all the stops to try and save Lou. She appreciated all your hard work. So what is death? For Lou Death is nothing She ‘s just slipped into the next room. Whatever we were to each other before, we still are. Call her Lou by her old familiar name. Speak to her in the easy way you always did. Put no difference into your tone; no forced air of solemnity; no sorrow. Laugh as you always laughed at those little jokes you enjoyed with her. Play, smile, think of her and pray for her. Let Lou’s name be the household word it always was. Speak it without effect or shadow. Life still means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is absolute unbroken continuity. What is death but a negligible accident? Why should Lou be out of mind just because she is out of sight? Your mum is waiting for you, for an interval, Somewhere very near, just around the corner All is well. Goodnight Lou sleep well. A Celebration of Lou’s Life 26th June 1970 – 19th January 2009 2nd February 2009.