I've been a colleague, then a friend, of Emma for many years, and that was my connection to Colleen. And what they say is true - like Mother, like Daughter. 

Every single time I met her, I saw the same smile, the same attitude towards good and bad things happening, and the very same determination that I knew runs through Emma. When I heard she had become ill, I knew that - whatever the outcome - Cancer was going to emerge bloodied, bruised, and more than a little embarrassed.

Seeing Colleen at our gigs was great, but the one occasion that will always stick in my mind was a few months back, when Kasie, another friend and former colleague, was over from the US, and we gathered at Emma's place. Fish and chips, tequila, and feisty ladies isn't a good combination for a shy, retiring chap like me, and I found out far more about women than a boy really needs to know. Honestly, my hair went even whiter that night.

But that wasn't all I saw whilst trying to shade my ears and cleanse my mind of some of the visions they each conjured up. I was Colleen listening, laughing and joking with Emma and Kasie - and me when the chance arose to get a word in - as naturally as it is possible to be. And when Molly was there, there was a special sparkle in Colleen's eye just for her. Such love between grandma and granddaughter was obvious.

I can't make the funeral, but I will be absolutely certain to raise a glass, in much the same way that Colleen and her kids raised fingers to the illness that, although it eventually took her from us, could never take her from herself - with pride in a life well lived and a living legacy testament to her strength and love.

Colleen - please don't give the angels too much grief up there...