Two years ago

Two years ago this week my Goldie moved out of our house and into her own, the first young adult to move into what would become a shared Supported Living house. Not a Group Home, but her own home, her own tenancy with her own staff to support her. Better than a Group Home, we were told - and still believe - more freedom, fewer regulations, and better funding leaving more money for holidays and general life enhancers rather than just the basics.

Two years ago this week, Little Fish and Mog and I were spending all day every day giving Goldie's new carers a crash course in Goldie. Goldie herself was wildly excited by all the attention, a little overwhelmed by the huge change in her routine, and totally lacking in understanding about the permenancy of the arrangement.

A brand new house with keen new staff, lots of kinks to work out but masses of enthusiasm to do so.

Somehow, just six weeks later, the unthinkable happened and my beautiful Goldie had her hideous accident. Two years later, I believe we now know as much as we ever will about the how and the what and the where and the when. And the why is something we'll never know. I'd like to tell her story. But still the legal process rumbles on; inquest over half a year ago and now the prospect of a criminal court case later on this year. And still the need to keep events fresh, to preserve my account to produce in court when needed.

I have no interest in this court case. My daughter died. I miss her. I chose to move her into her new home - or at least I chose to move her out of my home. I'm still reasonably sure it was the right decision. But the fact remains, if I had not, if she had stayed with me, she would probably still be alive today. My part in her death doesn't call for Legal proceedings to be taken against me; how can I be involved in prosecuting others who may have paid a part? And whether or not I play a part in this, once this is all over, she's still dead. So what's the point?

Tia