This was part of the speech written by Trin at Vals memorial service.

When I first met Val I remember her almost being a force of nature, I used to phone her up in the morning, Lola and I still in our pyjamas and Val had already been up, out and about, fed Ciaran while simultaneously using her breast pump and was waiting to meet up, to go to a music or a soft play session, to swim, to have a picnic, to go the tractor or boat park or to Henry Reynolds, perhaps even walk to Stratford or Ilford, she amazed and astounded us. Having our children together, away from our families, meant we became what we jokingly referred to as ‘our urban family’. We watched our kids play, bicker and grow up together and watched as Val grew into a magnificent Mum.

I remember feeling secure in her presence and in her friendship, and got an overwhelming sense very quickly that she was going to be a pivotal person in my life, a feeling I’m sure shared by everyone here. We had sober and more often than not drunken conversations, we spoke about our kids and our friends and our schools and about weightwatchers. She introduced me to Bootcamp and Jane and I to running, she was always encouraging and supportive and kicked our asses about getting out for a run whatever the weather, whatever our moods, she joined the Wanstead running club; she ran the Brighton marathon and as we know secured a place at this year’s London Marathon, that Tom successfully completed last weekend.

 

And then. 

 

When we first heard about the tummyitous it was inconceivable that Val would not beat it, she was so strong.  She had places to go, people to scold, Tom to love and her children to adore.

 

Today is and should be an absolute celebration of the incredible Val that we knew but I cannot stand here and not voice at least part of the anger that I know we all feel. The bitterness and confusion and pain and rage that we have all experienced during the past year.

Val was an amazing friend.

 

Many of you here knew Val in the days when a packet of crisps, can of coke and a cigarette was a well-considered breakfast. Kim in particular was a crucial part of Val’s world, sharing hen nights and weddings, holidays and New Year’s celebrations. She knows, like we do, how Val remembered every birthday and anniversary, events that you may have mentioned in passing, she would text you and wish you good luck, or let you know that she was thinking about you.  Val was always there with support and help and advice, even when she must have been in the depths of despair she was unswervingly steadily there for others, always wanting to make sure we were OK while it became increasingly apparent that she was not.

 

She was brave and beautiful and thoughtful and kind. Her presence and her words gave such strength.  She was sharp and witty and she made us laugh and laugh.

 

After Val returned to Ireland, we were incredibly lucky to be able to visit her there. It then became evident where the roots of her kindness came from. Leo taxied us around; Lyn welcomed us into her home Karen, Zoe and Tim looked after us. Jane remembers Val’s mum leaving the room so that despite the limited time everyone had to be with Val we were given valuable space to sit together with her. We hope that her family know that we are always here looking out for Tom, Orlaith and Ciaren and that the O’sheas will always be a part of our urban family.

 

And so, despite wanting to go back to a time when Val was here, dressed beautifully and dancing fantastically, despite wanting on so many occasions for time to stand still and for the world to simply stop and notice what was going on and make it better, I know there are moments when we can all look back, hold on to and love our times with Val, knowing that we are better people for having been part of her life.

 

Kim’s son Jack said that perhaps Val had gone young because God wanted the good ones to be with him earlier because they were more special than the others; we love Val and miss her desperately. I hope that, just maybe, Jack is right.  Trin xx

 

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Georgina Rossetti, poet (1830 - 1894)