I remember as a child my sister and I being very close to both Mark and Julia as the age difference was only 6 years between herself and me. I was only six when I discovered that I was an auntie a second time but thought of her at that time as a sister. I would like to think that during the time we grew up that all four of us were very close as my sister and I were never called auntie by either Mark or Julia. As we grew up and our children were born Andrew, Samuel, Emerald and Rebecca. They were all brought up in the same way as we were and all played together although Rebecca was a little bit younger than the other three. When my own son Samuel was diagnosed with leukaemia Julia was very supportive and gave me great strenght and when I eventually lost him to the illness although Julia herself was in a considerable amount of pain she gave me support, love and encouragement and was always there for a shoulder to cry on. When Julia's health eventually worsened she tried to carry on, always smiling, and as her health gradually worsened not once did she complain. I know that she is always there and when I have been to my brother's house I have always felt her presence there as I feel that she like my son will never die and that they like the poem are just in the next room. Amanda King (Julia's Aunt)

It has been a comfort to read through the tributes and memories that have been posted, some shared memories from people that I have not seen for many years, some from family, and those from Julia’s close friends and colleagues, all expressing in their personal way the affection and warmth that we all had for Julia. My strongest memory of Julia was the strength of character and selfless determination that Julia showed us throughout her illness. When the going got tough, Julia kept on going – as a mother, sister, daughter, friend or family, often putting the needs of others before her own. When Julia was informed that her illness had become terminal, she had obviously decided that it was important for me that whilst on a family visit, she told me the news in person. I found it a little curious that mum and dad were discretely leaving the room for no apparent reason, but once alone, Julia explained her situation with a directness and sensitivity that only she could have mustered. There was a gentle hug, and a lot of discussion, and at the time I thought that I handled the situation quite well. Looking back however, I realise that really I was trying to avoid saying anything that might upset Julia because I felt that she had enough to deal with, and took a lot of strong mixed feelings away with me. Julia of course, with the perception of a sister, was fully aware of this and a couple of days later was able to put her own tragic situation to one side and call me to check that I was OK. Since Julia passed away, there have been times when life has been difficult - but never as difficult as it was for Julia - and I have asked myself what she would do. Every time, a reply cuts through the self-indulgent worry, a voice with a down to earth directness that brings strength and encouragement. Its usually something like “Stop worrying and get on with it, because I know you can do it” and it wouldn’t feel the same coming from anyone else. Julia will always be with me, and I hope that her courageous spirit will continue to be an inspiration to everyone that she knew and loved.

I remember Julia talking enthusistically about going to Uni to train as a teacher. Little did I realise then that teaching was in her genes, as shortly after that I think I turned up at Greenleaf to support a Deaf child ( Ismael), only to meet up with you both. On another occasion I sat next to Julia at a Gwyn Jones fashion show, organised by the Friends. We sat and watched the fashions modeled on the catwalk and had a chance to buy them at ridiculously knocked down prices. Such was our entertainment in the 90s! I remember Julia for her laughter and enthusiasm and for her positive outlook. Once her chemotherapy kicked in I remember her saying at least she would not need to shave her legs or pluck her eye brows, what a spirit that showed. She is fondly remembered.

I remember Julie in snatches of memory that always seem to be on a summer’s day; maybe that says something about her personality. Chatting at the school gates in the morning after dropping the kids off, enthusiastic conversations about her teacher-training course, what she was planning to do on teaching practise. Julie was full of energy and enthusiasm for the future, feeling she had found what was right for her.

I remember Julia as somebody who always made the best of whatever situation she was in, with determination and good humour, from the very first moment I met her, in the maternity ward - her with her rubber ring barely able to sit down, and me with my Caesarian scar barely able to stand up. We met up again when the boys started at playgroup - which Nat always thought was Andrew's playgroup, so he was obviously impressed by Julia's powers of organisation! She was always willing to help out - Nat still remembers that she made it possible for him to go to Mary Dunn's dance classes with Andrew, taking him after school because I couldn't get home from work in time. I remember her hosting book-buying evenings at the flat in Essex Road South, where her hospitality ensured we always had a great time. She was full of ideas and energy, and always determined to do the best by Andrew and Becky. Here's to Julia.

Snap Shots, from Darren When I was younger we tended to call friends of my parents ‘aunty’ and ‘uncle’. I sort of knew this, but it was a long time before I realised that Julia was not actually my real cousin. This was because, in those formative years, our families seemed to spend so much time together. Those memories have a sort of seventies richness, like the photographs that influence them. Visits to Lin and Kieth’s in London, or Essex were always fun: cycling at some park or playground, where there were crossings and road markings (all very grown up); dropping Action Men out of the top window in a parachute (he didn’t make it); Camping in the garden at our flat in Plumstead; Holidays with Christmas Trees on the beach; Windsurfing (or rather constantly hauling a wet heavy sail out of the water); Cricket over at One Tree Hill, where Mark or Julia would do the runs for my dad when he was in bat. These were times I will never forget and Julia was always there, smiling laughing and being generally loud. Some people say something and think about it afterwards, Julia thought about it and said it anyway – she was bluntly honest (in a good way). Julia always seemed to remain optimistic, whatever life threw at her she seemed to make the best of it, to not be put down. She had an ability to see the funny side of things and was always jolly, always laughing with that little snort she used to have when she got short of breath because she’d laughed too much. Julia didn’t do things by half; she couldn’t be allergic to something, with simple sniffles over pollen, no – her whole room had to be stripped of anything that could hold dust! Thankfully we stayed in touch as we got older, but as the years go by time seems to sneak away from you, certainly we did not see as much of each other as we should have. But her last few years seemed to be the happiest she had been. She loved having children and was more settled and more focussed than I had ever known her. I think she would have made a great teacher. And this is the problem with memories, like photographs, there are many gaps between each one. I really miss being able to remind each other of what happened in between the pictures.

We knew your Mum from the first few days of her life. We would go on holiday together with Nan and Grandad when Mark and your Mum were very young. They were always quite an adventure and full of fun. She was always ready to try something new, like water skiing and windsurfing when we went to Poole Harbour and normally succeeded in achieving what she set out to do. She was a very brave young woman who made sure that she had made provisions for her children to be brought up by the best people who would care for them when she was no longer able to do this. With all the love and care that Nan and Grandad have given you both, you have grown up into young adults that any Mum would be proud of. You will both soon be able to go out into the world and perhaps achieve your own goals. Enjoy your lives as your Mum would have wished you to. Lots of love to you both.

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Julia Boot. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.

I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? Life means all that it ever meant, it is the same as it ever was.