2nd March 2026 was the 15 anniversary of the terrible morning when we heard Louise had died. Each year we mark the occasion by visiting her bench with family and friends and then go off somewhere to celebrate her memory.

This year, 2nd March being a Monday and, it being such a milestone, we decided to make more of an occasion of it so we invited people on Sunday 1st, both young and old, to come to the Bench and then to have lunch at Parkhill Road afterwards. About 30 people turned up in each location, the ebb and flow reflecting the realities of our day-to-day lives. The highlight was of course our delicious granddaughter, who now proudly says her name is ‘Claudie Louise Cattell’, and whose cheeky personality, constant smiles and high spirits personify the memory of Louise – she seems to be with us! She delighted in helping us decorate the bench, handing us big bunches of daffs. We are blessed to have such a wonderful son in Tommy, his lovely wife Anna and of course Claudie. Family is everything.

Louise loved Jollof Rice in the last year of her life, and it became a big joke. So I found an authentic recipe, made a Thai green curry (a nod to her vegetarianism!) and Iniga, a child then now a chef, made a delicious blueberry tart. It was a fitting culinary tribute.

It is always wonderful to see how many people of all ages still remember Louise – so many have moved out of London, or round the world, but the messages flood in from all over. I remember her funeral when the overflow watched outside the crematorium on CCTV. Below, the celebrations continued in the Steele’s, everyone in silks and fine array – I mandated ‘no black’.

On midsummer’s day, at her memorial at Cecil Sharpe House, we put out the last keepsakes, sang and danced, and shared memories – many centred around Louise’s quirky character and alleged vegetarianism (sparked by finding a Macdonald’s loyalty card in her purse, which I still have). They were both grand send-offs to a wonderful girl. And the tributes continued for over a year with her Dingwall’s memorial gig.

Back in 2026, on her actual anniversary, we scattered her remaining ashes under a fine clematis tangutica, which will ramble over the old apple tree and the climbing rose in full view of the house. We also sprinkled the last of my Dad under two more clematis; I can’t think of a better place for them all to be, giving new life from old. Their ashes are already united, with my mum, in the flowing Zambezi and on Manda Toto island, next to Lamu. Louise is also guarding the roots of a tree near the Bench, the roses in the garden of her flat in Evering Road, protecting skiers on the Swiss Wall, and fertilising our little garden in Champery. She is ubiquitous in all her favourite places.

Fifteen years is such a long time and today I reflect on how I feel. In my dreams I see and talk to Louise at several stages of her life but, awake, I have to summon her very consciously as she seems just out of reach. I need to close my eyes to see her and hear her throaty chuckle and the ‘Mum’ she used to say in an exasperated tone (often). The troubled teenage years had given way to a more mature and thoughtful personality, still maturing when she died.  There’s no doubt she would have become an exceptional adult, using her multitude of talents,  her vibrant personality and deep empathy for others. How I mourn not seeing that happen.

Remember the happy times I say to others who are bereaved but, to be honest, I find it painful to bring them to mind too often. So I continue in a state of numbed denial of the hole she has left in our lives and strive to make the best of it, campaigning for changes to UK’s drug policy, showing compassion and humanity to my best ability through charity work and activism (as I know she would want), the while trying to enjoy life as much as I/we can. Carpe diem is still our mantra and survival mode. It is not possible to ‘get over’ the death of a child but it is possible to learn to live with it.

Bearing witness to her newly maturing self, I found this written by Louise in 2009 [she was dyslexic so the spellings are original]:

I have been asked by some of you to respond to this “25 things about me” chain letter that has been going around. Firstly, I would like to say that I have greatly enjoyed reading all those that I have read and am flattered that people have asked to know a bit more about me. Unfortunately I do not have the time to write out a full 25 things right now (as I fear it would take me all night) so I’m offering you a slightly more modest “10 things about me”. For those of you who I am sending this to who have no idea what I am on about then the idea behind it is that if I “tag” you in this note then I wish for you to make a similar list and then “tag” me back and pass it on to whomever you wish.

Anyway, here goes, 10 things about me (you might learn something):

1. I am not religious. Until someone is able to proove or disproove the idea of Devine Creation to me then I shall not rule it out completely as a possibility. This is not to say that I do not find myself in total awe about nature and the world around us, I just believe that nature & science are the only solid things that we have to hold on to and therefor the notion of “God” only exists to me as a theory.

2. Further more I do not believe that I am necessarily right about anything I believe, all I know is that I am happy to believe them. As a consequence of this, not only do I constantly examine,question & explore my beliefs; but I also try not to inflict my views on anyone. Teach it, don’t preach it!

3. One thing that is very obvious about me, and something that almost everybody I know has commented on at some stage is that I am constantly altering my visual appearance. My explanation for this is that I do not think that I am (or should be) defined by the way I look and therefore a change of mood often goes hand in hand with a change of image.

4. I have two cats. One is called Pickle and the other is Pepper. I treat them like children, they are my friends.

5. I find people facinating and constantly watch others around me and try to work out why they do the things they do/act how they act. I really enjoy finding out new things about people, especially when they are things that turn out to be very telling about their personality.

6. I love indulging my senses and can be just as easily moved by a smell or feel of something as I could by a beautiful piece of music.

7. I am nostalgic despite seeing no sense in being so.

8. I enjoy planning things, assessing things & commiting things to extreme reasoning. Part of the process involves writing it all down, I scrutinize things often to the point of obssession.

9. I want to know everything. I feel that any moment spent not learning something is a moment wasted.

10. I am completely unable to multi-task. [This was absolutely true – drove us nuts!]

And some final reflections on grief:

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Khalil Gibran

Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Henry Scott Holland

For more memories visit https://louisecattell.com/. A comprehensive record of everything…