March 17th

St Patrick's Day will never be quite the same for me, little sweetheart, as it was the last full day that you were, however critically injured, still here on Earth.

It was the beginning of very dramatic 24 hours in your care, as well, because by the end of the day, we'd had what seemed like such promising news about your possibly recovery but by the next morning things were, inexplicably, far worse.

On St Patrick's Day itself, I stood at your bedside holding your hand for hours as I had done every day while you lay in the ICU. At one point a small priest wearing a huge cross came by. Had asked about you and I told him what a wonderful, kind, amazing girl you were - the love of my life. He asked if he could do anything and I asked him to please pray for you.

Later when I had to leave your room, only one or two people were allowed to be there at a time - and it's even possible you weren't there, I don't remember, you were taken to another floor that night so they could try and do an MRI to see if progress was being made - I was outside sitting on the floor by the elevators and the priest came by again. I wished him Happy St Patrick's Day and asked him again to pray for you, as I did.

As I do today, little sweetheart. With all my heart and soul I pray for your safe keeping in the beautiful new place and that I might join you there the moment that heaven allows. With all my love.