A life Sentence

I can still remember my husband Darren, then 31, setting off on his motorbike on his way to work at London Stansted Airport as a baggage handler.

It was July 2000 and, as I watched him ride out of our road, I didn’t know it was the last time I’d see him alive.

Just hours later, two police officers knocked at my door.

They told me Darren had been killed in an accident, knocked off his bike.

I was inconsolable.

A widow at 28 and eft to raise our two boys – Andy, then 9, and Matt, 7 – alone.

I missed Darren’s humour, his

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