On 2nd June 2009, two men knocked on our door, bringing with them the news that our nineteen-year-old son, Cyrus, had been killed that morning by an IED while serving with 2 Rifles in Afghanistan. Our family as we knew it was destroyed in an instant. I had three sons, a job as a manager in a day centre for people with acquired brain injuries – and suddenly this had changed for ever.
People ask me how I’ve coped, and my answer is that I have written it all down – partly for fear of losing those memories too, and also to try
to make some sense of what has happened. This process of madness continues to be part of what has become my new ‘normal’.
I have a new life now, which I’m trying desperately to come to terms with – and follow Cyrus’s words from his last letter to us.
