I was terrified of getting it wrong. I quickly found out how hard it was to access advice and support to help two very young children hold onto who their mummy was and the love she had for them.
I made memory boxes, collecting photos, recipes, clothes, her perfume. Things they could touch and return to. They helped. Alone, they were not enough. As they grew, the questions got harder. What was Mum's favourite colour? What did her laugh sound like? Can I hear her voice?
Their mummy never had the chance to answer those questions. When she was ill, she found it incredibly hard to know what to record for them. There was no way of knowing what would help them as they grew and what might cause more pain. When you are already facing serious illness, the idea of gathering and storing memories, letters and information can feel overwhelming.
I found myself trawling through old iCloud videos at midnight, trying to find her voice for them. The recipe book she made is still on our shelf. The pages are fraying at the edges. Everything was scattered in a million different places and there was so much I could not find.
Over the years, people started coming to me. Friends, colleagues, acquaintances. When someone dies, it is like you become a member of a club nobody chose to join. They would ask how I managed it. Could I offer any advice? I never had a neat answer. Just honesty and the things that had worked for us.
I read books. I searched online late at night. I called helplines and trawled through charity websites. The information was out there, but it was scattered and fragmented and hard to find when you are exhausted and just trying to get through the week.
My biggest frustration was that there were apps to help children with their reading and their maths, and guides for parents covering every stage of childhood. What there was not was something that gave me the tools and the confidence to help my children navigate grief together as a family. The gap was staggering.
So I asked: what if you could build the thing our family needed? What if it could be made available to every family whatever their situation? That is how Memory Robin was born.
Seven years on, they are thriving. They talk openly about their grief. They carry their mummy with them in how they remember, speak about and honour her. She would be so proud of the kind, thoughtful, funny young people they have grown into.
Every time they see a robin, their faces light up, because their mummy taught them that when a robin appears, a loved one is near. Memory Robin was created in their mummy's memory and for every family who needs support, guidance and a secure place for precious memories that's safe for children and adults to access whenever and wherever they need it.
Simon – Community Voice, Memory Robin
