My Son, Blib.

In the weeks following the death of my son Tony aged just Thirteen, I started writing his memoirs as cathartic therapy in an effort to make some sense of the turmoil I was experiencing and to contain the anger I was feeling.
Tony was to experience many prejudices in his life. Bullied from a young age, racism and from the age of nine, he was to live as a diabetic that proved to be brittle and difficult to control.
Tony always rose to his challenges with a winning smile and a maturity that belied his age.
He experienced premonitions, including his own death. He was a strange mysterious child but he enriched the lives of all those who knew him.
I know Tony would wish for any person working in the medical or educational fields. To read his book, thereby preventing any other child suffering the injustices he was forced to endure.
I still take strength from my son every single day, and for all bereaved parents that feel such isolation, please read my book. You are not alone……………