Someone recently asked me if there was any one thing, one most important thing, I would ask of people around the death and grief of my daughters’ deaths.

I was surprised at how easily my answer came – there are so many things I could say, but this quickly arose as the most important:

Please remember them.

Remember their names.

Remember that they lived.

Remember that I am their mother.

Remember that they were, and are, loved. Always.

Remember them.

For me, aside from the absence of them, my greatest pain is the fear that they will be forgotten. Lost in the passing of time and space. That because there is so little physical proof of their life here, even the memory of them will disappear for everyone but me.

So, please, remember them.

Not just when the grief is or was fresh and new. Remember them after years and decades have past and they are still gone.

Remember that they lived.

Remember that I carried them. I will always carry them with me.

Remember that I am their mother – then, now, always. Even when I’m 90 and preparing to leave this earth, they will still be mine and I will be theirs.

Remember that they were and are and will forever be loved.

Remember them.

For always.