Nora Sheehan, 56, Maryland, USA
Glancing out the kitchen window, my heart jolted. ‘Andrew!’ I screamed, as my eight-year-old boy clambered up a tree, the pencil-thin branches bending under his weight.
‘Look, Mum,’ he giggled.
‘Look at how high I can climb!’
Typical Andrew.
As curious as he was fearless.
Ever since I adopted him in September 1996, aged six, he’d been a daredevil.
A risk-taker, and an adventurer.
Go fishing, and he’d be the one to get stuck in the mud!
But for all his mischief, Andrew was a kind, loving boy. He was always fixing things around the house, wrapping up gifts for us in electrical tape.
Still, there was a troubled side to Andrew, too.
In care, he had developed mood disorders and depression.
By the time…
