Fiona Moore was a lovely fifteen year old girl who attended writing classes with me from September until Easter this year. Fiona was a hip, contemporary and humorous writer. She had a sophisticated and perceptive eye. She loved writing. She was very good at it. She took criticism well, but was also very sure of what she wanted to write.
Her mother, Deirdre, used to wait outside every class in case a telephone call came to say that there was a heart waiting for Fiona, which would mean rushing Fiona straight to Dublin airport to take a helicopter to wherever that heart was waiting.
That call never came and yesterday Fiona died.
I am stunned that a young girl with so much life in her is gone. It doesn’t make sense.
But I am so glad that I had the chance to teach Fiona.
My greatest sympathies are with her family Deirdre, Martin and Killian.
