I buried my grief

On every shelf, in every room of my home, delicate copper photo frames stand on display with faces of my loved ones smiling back at me. There’s my husband, Andy, 38, and our daughter, Amelia Elina, four, known as Millie, our parents, grandparents, Andy’s sister and brother, and our best friends. My uncles in the UK, and cousins in Iran and America – even their children. But earlier this year, Millie made a keen observation: ‘Mummy, why are there no pictures of Elina?’ There are no pictures of my mum’s youngest sister, Elina, the aunt I named my daughter after. Truthfully, after Elina’s death, I found it too painful to see