Strawberries

So this is my first post as a blogger for years and it's not what I had planned. I had planned to write about accessibility at my university - it would have been moving, funny and hopefully would have gotten me a load of followers. However, after having some heartbreaking news on Saturday 24th October I have decided that I want to dedicate my first post to a dear friend that I unfortunately must say goodbye to.

Many people have heard of the story of Kirsty Howard. Kirsty was an inspiration to many, raising £7.5million for Francis House Children's Hospice during her lifetime. She battled against all odds to live to be 20 when she was given just weeks to live at the age of 3. The nation is grieving the loss of one of the most inspirational people to ever live after she passed away in the early hours of Saturday 24th October.

But those who knew her personally treasured her for different reasons. I have been contemplating how to put why I loved Kirsty so much into words since hearing the news early on Saturday morning, and I still doubt that I will ever achieve the task of making you understand. But I'm going to attempt it.

There are quite a few stories I could tell you. I could tell you about the time we ordered a dodgy Chinese and ended up with food poisoning the night before her prom. I could tell you about the time we sat up late in her room with our friend talking about boys and silly things like that. I could even tell you about the time that we sat with our younger friend while she told us how scared she was about her future and how she thought she would never be able to have a normal adolescence. Kirsty sat there and listened while this young teenager cried for the life she would never have and then she told this girl that it was going to be okay, that she was amazing and beautiful and that she would find a boyfriend to love her and she should just enjoy herself no matter what because you can't see the future.

But I'm not going to. Instead I'm going to tell you why I call her Strawberries. It's going to sound dumb, most likely, but it feels important.

When I go to Francis Lodge (the adolescent and adult section of Francis House) I like to eat all the things I normally wouldn't. It's my chance to relax and stop putting on this "strong" persona that I often feel I have to wear everywhere else. One of my favourite things to eat while there is strawberries dipped in chocolate (the staff really pamper me). Not long into my friendship with Kirsty I was sat in the lounge at Francis Lodge stuffing my face with strawberries and chocolate when she parks her wheelchair next to me and half shouts "are those strawberries real?!". Being the sarcastic person I am I replied "no. They're plastic." and she replied "Alright! No need to be sarcastic, Plastic!" I of course retaliated with "shut up, Strawberries" and stuck out my tongue like a 5 year old. The nicknames stuck and years later her number is still in my phone under the name Strawberries.

Strawberries will always be important to me and I don't believe there's a chance of anyone forgetting her. She changed us all in little ways. For me she changed the way I saw the whole world. She convinced me that I didn't have to take my tea the wrong way, even though someone else was making it (which may sound very insignificant in the grand scheme of things but when you can't do anything for yourself it means a lot). She convinced me that it is possible to change the world, even if you're a seriously ill teenage girl. Before meeting Kirsty I was losing hope - I truly believed that my life would be too short to make anything of - but she showed me that anything is possibly.

Losing Kirsty hit many of her friends hard. Many of us relied on her for emotional support, advice and inspiration. Whenever any of us were low or lost she would help us find our feet. Kirsty truly was the best of us all and I have no idea how we are going to live without her.

It also has reminded many of us how ill we could be. We often ignore the fact that we are ill and we could go at any point. It's hard to explain to people who don't understand and being so far from home has meant I haven't felt like I have anyone to lean on. Usually I would text Kirsty. She was an essential part of our circle of friends and nothing will ever be the same for us again.

I would like to take this opportunity to send my love and condolences to Kirsty's family, who she loved immensely and who loved her equally. We will not forget her.