Six months after the murder

Dilly's friends on the Green in Deanshanger paying tribute to their friend six months after his murder

Adil Basharat was my daughter’s friend. He was attacked on Nov 19th 2010 and died two days later in Milton Keynes hospital surrounded by his family and friends. My book ‘MADAM’ is dedicated to him. Read the children’s blog at

It was six months today since you were all first together on the green. Joined as one, in your grief and shock. You laid flowers, notes and gifts for Adil, and stood shoulder to shoulder with the other kids from school. The ones who normally pissed you off, or who you thought had shit hair. The other kids you usually  laughed at or ignored.

Adil’s murder stopped for a while the judgements, the bitching, the way it is between kids. Real life was on hold. You all focused on him. On your love for your murdered friend.

Today on the green, six months on, you were back in your separate camps. The popular girls, the cool boys, the kids from the other schools, the others who fit no-where and me.  The old fart wandering around like NATO, neutral, in the middle. Stepping over you all with the camera.

I know some of you are saddened that life has gone on. That you’ve drifted away from each other and the communal comfort.  Surprised that you’ve managed to live through six months of hell. I looked at you all today, sat in your separate camps on the grass and I was glad.

Today, some of you laughed, where before there were tears. Some of you chatted, where before there was silence. Some of you ate chips, where before there was just gut churning misery, whilst the boys pushed each other off the bench, where before they’d sat on the cold grass, still and depressed.

Today’s photos were so different to those of six months ago, and I am so proud of you all.

I know sometimes it feels wrong to laugh, to realise you’ve been talking all afternoon and not thought of Adil, but life has to move on, or all life would finish and heartbreak would cause the end of humanity.

It is ok to go your own way and have separate thoughts.

The death of someone you love is difficult and political however old you are. It brings people together and pushes them apart. That is its way.

If you laugh, or enjoy part of the day, or get on each other’s nerves, it doesn’t mean you’re forgetting him, It means you’re human.

You will always remember him. When you’re all 90 years old and completely batty, Adil will probably be the only thing you will remember.  You won’t remember what your name is, if you’ve had your tea, or turned the gas off, but you’ll remember Dilly.

He will always be remembered as young, and handsome. Funny, cute and distracting in class. He will be remembered as a hero. A solider.  A best friend. He will never get fat, or go bald, or wish he hadn’t bought a Nissan. He will stay immortal in your memories and voices.  Forever young, and happy, and loved by all of you.

You’re great kids, and I know he loves you all as much as you love him.  I admire and love you all, whatever you think of each other.

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