Patch

My daughter Madeleine Françesca died yesterday morning. She was 22 days short of her 22nd birthday. She died by her own hand following a massive overdose of prescription medicines - the latest and final in a series of similar 'cries for help' from a truly brilliant but tragically flawed mind.

I had the dreaded policewoman at the door yesterday morning informing me that Maddy was in intensive care in A&E in Dundee and 'fighting for life'. We dropped everything packed a case and high-tailed it up the M1, to then receive a phone call on the way, from the doctor telling us she hadn't pulled through.

Lives shattered before mid-day on a Monday.

This blog won't receive any fan-fare or push, it'll just be there and I'm writing it as part of the grieving process. So it's really just for me and, more importantly for her because while we very rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything, didn't really get along very well at all, she did at least read my blog so maybe she'll find a way to read this one. Believe me if anyone could achieve such an unlikely thing, it would be Maddy.

She didn't read my blog out of any sense of agreement you understand, but really just for her to see how the 'other side', to her: 'the right wing idiots' were thinking on some issues. Well, 'Patch' (of which more later), this is what the other side was thinking, and still thinks, about you.

Maddy was always a brilliant but very difficult child. Her brain saw things that very few of us can see. She found it extremely difficult to be passive or just happy, her mind simply wouldn't let her kick back and just relax and enjoy life in its simplest form.

She was the sort of person who would get up in the morning, come down for breakfast and if there were no 'Wheaties' left (which was what she wanted for breakfast) she would kick up a major fuss and then go back to bed to 'start the day again', only this time, it was understood, that Wheaties would be available in abundance when she came down.

Funny perhaps at face value but for her this was extremely real. Everything had to be 'just so' for her in all things and from an amazingly early age. I once lifted her onto the toilet when she was small, when she'd wanted to climb up herself. She got down screaming at me that I'd done the wrong thing and didn't speak to me for three months. Three months as a two-year-old!

Her older brother Angus (who is devastated at her loss) was and is the epitome of cool. He could negotiate with terrorists and get his way in the end, by taking a step-by-step, friendly and logical approach. And they'd leave thanking him profusely.  Maddy on the other hand would commence negotiations having, in her head, already gone through the first three phases of the process (without them ever actually happening). This meant that her opening gambit was usually: 'Anyway(?) I want this and I want it now and I'll hate you forever if you don't agree!'

Which of course rarely worked and usually had the opposite effect to the one she wanted.

We thought this would work itself out over time as she grew and matured, but it never did.

She was diagnosed with Aspergers syndrome at age 15, but obviously had suffered with it always, which explained a great deal about her behaviour since she was very young. But she was at the very high achieving end of the spectrum. She had a photographic memory and set impossibly high standards for herself in everything she did - and fair play to her, she achieved these impossibly high standards in many, many cases.

Despite significant mental health issues and frequent home breaks from school, she got 11 A* grades at GCSE, teaching herself German because she'd had a terrible or non-existent teacher during her final year. She had no interest in the language really, but bought a book and got an A* because her attitude was: 'If I'm doing this I'll do it brilliantly'.

An admirable trait in many ways, but one which took its toll on every aspect of her life, for all of her short life and put massive stress and pressure on her, exerted by her own mind. It's difficult for most people to understand this concept, but believe me it is entirely true.

The Aspergers thing meant that she was brilliant academically but also found it impossible to empathise with other people. It was always all about 'her'. Nothing else mattered. And as you might imagine, this made living with her extremely difficult at times.

She got good A levels despite a number of mental health incidents including self-harming, eating disorders even gender issues in her late teens and got in to St Andrews University to study Computer Science. She didn't get the exact grades required because she'd only had half a year of study, but they liked her - on her visit day she won a robot programming competition having never programmed anything before, against some hardened 'geeks' and she stood out.

So they took her into the 'village' that is St Andrews and she truly enjoyed the happiest times of her short life there. Having done 6 months in the windowless darkened rooms that are the domain of computer scientists (not the best solution for Aspergers) and having got firsts in most of her assignments, she flunked out and came home. Switched to Geology and went from darkened rooms to outdoors and wellies for the next year. And then flunked out again, this time opting for film studies.

The irony of going from academic, science-based subjects to 'the arts' whose exponents she'd happily taken the piss out of hitherto, was not lost on her, but she'd always loved film and really fell in love with the subject.

She also, this year, got involved in journalism and wrote for the University magazine 'The Saint' - and wrote some really brilliant stuff - I'll link a couple of pieces here. I was so impressed Maddy - and I say that as someone who has made a living out of writing for my whole career.

She spent 3 months in a youth mental health facility aged 18 and was loved by staff and other patients alike. As usual she made a massive positive impact in the place.

Her history included not just the Aspergers but also self harm, eating disorders even gender issues. A brilliant academic mind, but completely flawed and out of control. She went on to be an ambassador for BEAT the eating disorder charity and spoke at a number of their conferences in front of hundreds of people. My little girl.

After we had found out the awful news of her death on Monday, we arrived in Dundee and were met by the local police whose job it is to ascertain cause of death and to go through the formalities. We were asked (required) to identify the body (of which more here) which was traumatic. And then we went to St Andrews where she was studying, stayed over and then met with the University Chaplain Donald, who was wonderful. A man of God but also a man of 'people'. She was vehemently anti God, but she would have liked him immensely.

He was very kind and understanding and though it's his job, it is clearly much more than a job to him. I thank him for his humanity. We also met with the Director of Student Services, Chris, who was equally kind and helpful. And we learned some things that I was not previously aware of:

And they made me so proud of her.

When the news began to spread around the university, the Chaplain and Student Services teams went out to talk to and inform the groups with which Patch had been involved. And as a student who had taken three different courses but had not cut off but kept in touch with all of them, and as someone who had lived in three different places (two halls and one private flat) and someone who was involved with the student newspaper and the theatrical society, her 'tendrils' went through the whole place as Chris told us.

There was of course shock and disbelief. Patch had recently secured a paid internship to work for a department, had received some nomination for a writing award (I'm not sure of the details at this time) and had been performing with the theatrical society and writing pieces for the student newspaper.

At the time we heard the words but they didn't compute, but since then, they have become much more real. Chris and Donald both told us that they found that Patch was not some peripheral part of the many and varied groups that she was involved with, but actually at the hub and heart of them all. Students were not just saying 'that's awful' but saying: 'but she organised us, she made what we do happen, this cannot be true, we need her.'

Chris said that there will have to be a memorial service for Patch at some point in the future because the students she knew will demand it. She described Patch as a 'tour de force' as a big fish in the small pond that is St Andrews. As someone who stood out amongst 'stand-out' students. 'And if you stand out here, that's a big deal believe me. This place will be in meltdown at this news.'

The head boy wanted to talk to the parents (us) but it was decided (probably correctly) that this was inappropriate at this time. He apparently said he would not be doing so as a representative of the university, but as someone who considered Patch to be one of his closest friends. He said, 'I was probably not in her top 100 friends, but she was definitely one of my closest friends'.

That, it seems, was Patch all over. Life and soul, flamboyant, creative, making things happen. But untouchable. And yet she didn't drink, didn't smoke or do recreational drugs. Her personality lit up a room and made everyone there happy.

All of which is entirely true and eulogising of course, forgive me. But there was another side to her of course. The untouchable, Aspergers-dominated side. She was extremely difficult at times and could not help it. She could be extremely cruel at times too. She and I had a difficult relationship because I tried to instill normal behaviours in her and she was incapable of understanding the principles I was trying to instill. Obviously I realised and recognised this over time, but it was not an easy learn. And so we had considerable conflict over the years.

She changed her name from Maddy Conway to Patrick Reynolds partly because she knew that discarding my (our) family name would deliver most hurt to me. She told me I was not her father - or at least she did not consider me as such. We had periods of positive interaction and then I'd be blocked on twitter and facebook and get a message saying 'I don't want anything to do with you from now on'.

She was sometimes hard to like. And I'm sure I was too. But I continued to love her unreservedly. She was my daughter. I'd have died for her in an instant if it would help her or make her happy and contented. (Although it is perhaps a good thing that I never told her that because there were probably times when she would have called in that debt without hesitation).

If you're reading this Patch, that will have made you laugh.

Anyway all of the above is true, difficult but true. In the end Patch became a ticking time bomb. My wife Anne who was Patch's hero and guardian and carer and true friend and ally, who carried and cradled Patch throughout her life, knew that one day we would get the call. That one day Patch would not be able to cope with her demons any longer. We both knew this and we both knew that it was only a matter of time.

There were never any trigger signals. Patch could have gone out for a wonderful evening or had an amazing day and would then take an overdose, completely out of the blue. We knew (because she had said this specifically) that when Jeeves the dog (who she loved dearly) died, she would kill herself. She loved Jeeves and our new dog Rupert and our previous Yorkie 'Crusher' above all else in life.

She loved their innocent, no strings attached, love for her. And, I think she struggled to find a similar quality in people, other than from her mum, my wife Anne who was always on her side. But Anne's unquestioning love was not, in the end, enough.

She also loved her teddy bears Lupin and especially a bear bought for her at her Christening by her Godmother Bettina whom she named 'PB' or 'Pretty Bear'. She was never without them. This is getting difficult to write, sorry.

We wondered, having been through several - about 5 we think - episodes of her overdosing and going to hospital, only to be stomach pumped and restored to 'health' whether this was another similar scenario that had gone wrong. Whether actually it was a mistake and she had just given in to her demons briefly and then called an ambulance.

But there was a note this time. She was massively intelligent. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew there was no coming back this time. And she didn't want to. And that, in the end, is what gives us solace. Because until we saw her letter, we were not sure about whether it was really her choice or not. And when you get a letter like that your initial thought is that it's all terrible. But she gave her reasons. She told us she loved us. But that every day was agony for her. That every day was a struggle.

That she couldn't go on with the pain and the anxiety, the depression, the charade. She was the life and soul of any party, but behind the façade she was scared, vulnerable, unhappy, in agony. She didn't want to live any more with the pain of being 'her'.

She once said: 'If you think it's bad living with me when I'm like this, just imagine what it's like being me. What it's like in my head'.

And so we're devastated as a family. Her parents (us), brother Angus, grandparents Louis and Christine (my mum and dad) Doris (Anne's mum), Russell and Adam (Anne's brother and partner), my sister Alison, her partner Steve and their daughter Erin who adored Patch and on hearing the news said: 'But I haven't spent nearly enough time with Patch yet".

But it's a relief too - and we both (all) - feel guilty about feeling this. And while we're devastated, Patch said in her note 'don't be sad, I can't do this any more', I think we all feel that she's now at peace and her deeply troubled mind is now at rest and that for her, it's for the best. And it was done - as was the whole of her life - on her terms. I have to cling to that.

It was her decision. And it was always going to be on her terms. 

And now the news is out on facebook and her tutors and friends are paying tribute and what they are saying is amazing. A side of her that we didn't fully realise. Her helping people and being truly inspirational for them. The love in which she was held by so many people - and I mean hundreds if not thousands of people who valued her and loved her.

It makes me so proud of her. Everyone is special to someone. Everyone's child is special. It seems Patch was special to so many people. But not to herself. That's the tragedy here and it is heartbreaking.

Her writing illustrated an understanding of the human condition, of motivations, beliefs and values; of our understanding of people, that reminded me of Carson McCullers' The Heart is a Lonely Hunter novel written when she was a teenager which is just amazing. Patch had that. When we sometimes glimpse the futility of the world, when we sometimes glimpse the bad stuff that seems to be a growing thing in the world, Patch had that in her mind all the damn time.

And she fought against it and made others think in another more positive way, she couldn't, herself, believe in that more optimistic approach.

I will share the tributes to her that are now coming in and are truly humbling. But for now what I have to say in conclusion, Patch, if you're reading this, is that you know I love you. Sometimes I didn't like you much, but I would do anything in my power to have you back safe and sound, including swapping my life for yours. Because you have much more to offer and to give than I could ever do.

But I hope you're at peace now. You shone more brightly for 21 years than most humans do in an entire lifetime. And I'm so proud of you.

Dad xx