Currently, the three people I would like to reach out to, say goodbye to and make peace with before I die, they have gone before me. They are dead. No more explanations. But I am taking their memories with me into every new day. I am trying to avoid repeats by speaking the truth and asking for the truth, even if I do not get an answer, even if the answer hurts.
Lots of things have happened in the news this week. Lots of things have happened in other people's lives this week. There is a lot of stress, upset and anger in the air. Facebook is a melting pot of unkind exchanges, arguments, and blame. It's not a nice environment to be in and I find myself shrinking away from it and burying myself in other things.
If you want to help Brendan Cox, or any bereaved friend, remember that the pain goes on for them. And on, and on, and on. You can help. Just be there. Take them out, let them cry, realise that they are a newborn trying to find out who they are going to become now that the world has ended. They will remember your kindness (or your stupidity) forever.
Deprived of the time, due to family and work commitments as well as logistics, to be of practical help to Chris and Jane, Charlotte's mum and dad, we struggled to think of what we could do to support them and their wider families. In the end we decided to do what came naturally; be creative, bossy and try to organise people.
Time is moving forward, life is changing, and good things are happening. None of it makes the absence disappear, and sometimes it makes the absence even more noticeable, but it's also essential. My life can't remain in 2015, it can't get stuck in a time when Mum was still alive - it's got to carry on, and that means that I've got to keep on doing what I can to live in the present.
So why am I passionate about contributing to mental health awareness? It would not be my first choice to talk so openly about my story if I am honest with you, but I feel since I lost my dad to suicide three years ago, I have learnt so much about the crippling disease that is depression that I have to pass on what I have learnt....
One sunny autumn afternoon 18 months ago, two policemen showed up at my doorstep to tell me that my son's body had been found nearby. Apparently Saagar had ended his own life. They handed me his belongings but I was convinced they had made a mistake. This was not within the realm of possibilities. He is a handsome talented young man of 20 with a fabulous education and everything to live for. How could this be? He had a recent diagnosis of bipolar disorder but the doctors had me believe that he was getting better. No one ever mentioned the word 'suicide' to me.
By taking time to provide support, we help people when they most need it; we can help improve the health and wellbeing of carers and bereaved people; and we can build compassionate communities which show that - in the words of the Dying Well Community Charter - caring for one another at times of crisis and loss is everybody's responsibility.
I don't want to live my life as "Fiona's daughter". There are a few people I know at the moment who think of me this way, and it feels like such a burden. It also doesn't do justice either to me or to Mum. Mum wasn't just a mother: she was so much more than that. And I may be her daughter, but I am so much more than that, too.