My beautiful, loving, precious Aunty Karen,

You will never know how important and special you were and always will be to me. From trips to Hemsworth Water Park and watching our Hayden on his motorcross bikes at the weekends, to climbing the door frames to make you laugh (your little spider crab). I used to love sleeping over at your house and having baths in your fancy corner bathtub with the little seat. Writing this now, I can still smell how your home smelt warm and lovely back then. Even if our Hayden’s Darth Maul toy scared the bajezus out of me. The glow in the dark sticky celing stars made it all better. The good times were absolutely wonderful. But you were there for me in the hard times too. You were the one there to explain to me where my mum was when she went to Wales, you waitied on the sofa at 88 bravely to tell me what had happened and you gave me 50p to try to stop me from crying, for the next time Aunty Katie took me to Meadowhall you said (that’s where you’d been waiting for me to come home from). We spent Christmas togehter at your house that year, I opened presents in your living room and I remember playing with my new Bratz doll on your settee; you were there for me when no one else was and I wish I had been grown up enough to appreciate that more instead of being sad and angry that no one else wanted me on Christmas day. You were always there. You were also the one who came to pick me up from school to take me to my mum when she couldn’t drive after an operation and I wanted to go to her. You were understanding and loving and never asked questions; you were just there waiting for me at the gates. 

When I was in hospital a couple of years ago, you were on the phone to the ward nurses’ station 24/7 to make sure I was okay. At the time I was embarrassed that the poor nurses had to keep answering the phone when they were so busy, but I appreciate your love and care and worry all the same. 

The last text you sent to me was saying how excited you are to see me in Brassic, and I’m gutted that now you won’t ever get to, do they have Sky in heaven? I am even more beyond devastated that your funeral is taking place when I’m scheduled to be on stage. I know you will be with me and I promise to give the performance of a lifetime, this one, and every one after, is for you. I will carry you with me everywhere I go and embed your natural joyous spirit into everything I do.

My heart is so heavy knowing how much you struggled throughout the last decade, and I’m so sorry that nothing anyone tried could make it better for you. You were simply too good, kind and beautiful for this world. I’m glad that you can finally be at peace, though I wish with all my heart you could return to a life without struggle and pain. 

I hope you are resting somewhere warm and comfortable where your gorgeous laugh can infect the air and I hope you are with grandad watching over all of us until we meet again.

I love you to infinity ❤️

Your little spider crab,

Amy

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