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I am attempting to write this blog on Thursday 8 December.

Mary ClennettIt’s a tough day to try and think of something to write about because I keep thinking of my sister, Mary; my deceased sister, Mary.

Mary would have turned 49 today. Instead she died from breast cancer one month after her 44th birthday.

By the time she had had a doctor’s examination of the lump in her breast, discovered during her second pregnancy, it was too late. She was told she had up to five years to live. She made it a little over half way.

Many readers would know a little of Mary’ story. For those that don’t, and want to, you can catch up here, here and here.

It’s very easy to get swept up in the holiday season and forget what it’s really about: enjoying quality time with the people you love and care about. And remembering and appreciating those who are no longer with us.

Happy birthday, Mary, I think about you every day. I miss your infectious warmth and optimism. I miss our conversations.

I grieve for your absence in the respective lives of Ned and Lola. I grieve for the conversations with their mother they no longer have.

Your life counted, Mary. And it’s missed.

Happy birthday.


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