R.I.P. Matteo wherever you are.

Earlier this morning I passed by the little momument, with a moon-shaped headstone and a cuddly Winnie the Pooh bear which Matteo's parents had put up by the roadside. Matteo was the 8 year old son of an ex-colleague of my husband's. In 2003 he was going to the park with his friend. A car had stopped at the crossing to let them cross the road. An idiot in a porsche didn't make the connection between a STOPPED car and the possibility that someone might be crossing the road, and so overtook at full-speed knocking poor Matteo into the air and onto the other side of the road. He died instantly.

I think the headstone idea is lovely, but it is the tribute to Matteo on the lamppost right by the side of the road where he lost his precious, young life which never fails to choke me up.

It's been 9 years or so now Matteo, but when Ivan and I pass by your monument we always think of you. R.I.P.

"...There's a little girl I see from time to time - Alice, who's three. Well, three and a half. Oh, she's great. Everyone loves her, but she's not spoiled - Well, wasn't spoiled. She was knocked over and she died. Her parents, and family, and friends from kindergarten... She used to go to this playground. See, they made an area in the park. Gave 'em money for swings, and little wooden animals, and there are these plaques on the sides of the swing, bottom of the horse: 'From Alice's mom and dad. In Memory of Alice, who used to play here'. And of course, Alice goes back there all the time. And when you see the parents take their child from the swing, and see the sign... They hold on to their son and daughter, so tightly, clinging on for dear life. And yet... The capacity that people have to love... Where does it go? "

Alan Rickman: Truly, Madly, Deeply.