Sharon

Clank, you have been a dear friend for the last 40 years. We met on the 262 bus coming home one night from Plaistow Grammar school, you sat behind me and said: Have you got a light? and I replied: Have you got a fag? That was the start of a fabulous friendship.

At 17 you became pregnant and was terrified of telling your parents so didn't. The day you gave birth to Paul was a terrible shock for your Mum and Dad, but your Mum held fast and told your Dad, you were going home with the baby. They ran around getting second hand baby things so you could go home, and so life with Paul began. At 6 months you discovered he would be what was then termed as 'handicapped' but it made you love him more. You got a job and through that job you met Svend, got married and went to live in Norway.

While you lived there we must have exchanged thousands of letters, putting messages on the back of the envelopes for the postmen. By that time I was divorced and had Christine and was working too. Christine and I came to Norway to visit you. I have wonderful memories of going out to Park Dancing, the fjords, the taxi queue at Drammen. As your marriage to Svend sadly crumbled and died, you discovered you were pregnant with Inge-Lise. You stayed in Norway, Paul was thriving, you had made yourself a good life there and loved the country and it's people. Those letters contained some of our brightest days and darkest nights.

By the time you returned to England, you had another beautiful daughter, Linn-Marie. You tried living in Eastbourne, returned to Norway, then came again to Manchester. You were in a relationship with a monster and finally got the strength to end it and moved into a house in Crewe. You showed me the delights of the area and I ended up buying a house close to you, going there at weekends.

Just before I moved up I got a call from your then partner, Richard. You had had some health problems and his words to me were: Sharon has lost most of her bowel, she is in the high dependancy unit and they are not sure she will make it through the night. Can you go and tell her Mum as she has no idea she was even ill. I went to your Mum, borrowed my dads car and drove to Crewe through all kinds of horrendous traffic. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach hoping hoping hoping we would get there in time. We arrived late and Richard took us straight to the hospital, what greeted us was a nightmare. You had tubes coming out of everywhere, a stoma bag attached to your stomach. As I leaned over to give you a kiss, the stoma bag gurgled and you smiled and said: Hear that? That's me farting and that got me laughing and crying all at the same time.

From that moment, you began to get better. Your spirit and desire to live overcame all the following disabilities you had to live with. Having to go onto TPN for the rest of your life didn't stop you doing anything. You did everything you wanted to do, even when people were telling you you shouldn't. Holidays, days out. You liked nothing better than being out in the sunshine. No matter how bad a day it was for you you battled through it and did exactly what you wanted.

You adored your kids, loved your animals, when Tilda came along, she was the apple of your eye. You were strong, funny. Your outrageous laugh that doubled you over made everyone around you laugh. You never judged, always had sound advice, talked for England. Loved people, loved life.

In the early hours of Thurday morning I went with your family to your bedside and sat while you fought your last battle. I sat and held your hand and told you how much I loved you and what a fantastic friend you have been. I left because I didn't want to stay to the very end. But I am oh so happy that I had the chance to say goodbye.

So now, this is one darkest night I cannot share with you and I will miss you so much. Life without you in it seems very dark indeed. But you have left me with some of the best memories I will ever have. You leave behind, your Mum Sheila, Paul, Lise, Linn-Marie, Tilda and a host of people who shared your life on-line and off line, some very close, some not. I love you my dear friend and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything we shared throughout our lives. Where ever you are, I wish you peace, I hope you are  bent over double laughing that laugh, talking non stop and dancing your socks off.

Sharon Jacobsen 1st Sept 1960-16th May 2013