What your not to me 

There are so many things that you are to me,
My pride, my joy, my greatest love.Words fail to adiquetley explain the love I have and the sadness I feel.Words are a very funny thing that have power to bring hope, comfort and peace.They are also capable of causing upset and pain.
Since my journey begun you have, at times, been referred to in the most cold and heartless of ways. You have been dismissed, ignored, forgotten and overlooked by so many people who are meant to care.
You’ve been referred to as my loss. Where as it is true that I have lost you from this life, you are a person in your own right. You have lost your life, not your identity. You live on in this life as a person who existed. You were born, you lived and then you died. Your name is Isla.
You’ve been referred to as a note in my medical history. You didn’t get your own notes until I questioned this. You were just a line in my medical records. Not a person but a medical condition. How dismissive of life are we in our health system that a persons life can be disrespected in this way. Your name is Isla.
You’ve been described as “one of those things”. To dismiss you as something so trivial is an insult to your name. This is a phrase that belongs with life’s little mishaps, not with the death of a person. When someone tells you they have a terminal illness you wouldn’t imagine telling them it’s “one of those things”! So why is it acceptable to use this phrase with me to describe your death? Your name is Isla.
You’ve been described as “such a shame”. It’s a shame when you find a hole in your favourite dress or find a stain on your new carpet. Someone dying is not a shame. It’s a life changing, earth shattering, sole destroying nightmare which you will never wake from. You were robbed of your life, your chance to shine. Who knows what you may have achieved, what you would have become. Your name is Isla.
You’ve been described as “something” that has made me stronger. You have not made me stronger. I don’t feel strong, I feel weak. The only strength I can muster most days is the strength to get up and put one foot in front of the other. That strength comes from within me. It comes from my desire to not waste my life as you weren’t given a chance. You are not “something”. Your name is Isla.
These are all the things your not to me. Your not a shame or one of those things. You are more than a side note in my medical history. What you are to me is hard to explain. You are my daughter. Your name is Isla.

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