Miriam's Art Work & Mimento





Miriam turned even the simplest gesture of sending a greeting card into something special,
always taking the time to make individual cards for everyone. Before her death she had hoped
to start her own business, Mimento, producing handmade cards. Her family have taken up this
idea and hope to develop it further. For more information please visit:

www.mimento.co.uk

All proceeds from the sale of the cards will be donated to the Miriam Hyman Memorial Fund
which is currently supporting the work of ORBIS UK (Charity No. 1061352), a charity which
aims at eliminating avoidable blindness globally, helping people to see clearly again.
________________________________________________________________

Friday, September 02, 2005

Loss


I still remember meeting Miriam for the first time at the BBC back in 1997. She was doing the picture research for a book for the series I was working on and she became an instant friend. Her enduring warmth, unquenchable interest in your life and an overwhelming sense of how to make you feel special made me seek her out often, always marveling at her thoughtfulness and generosity. Over the years that passed we shared our interests in science and art, visited galleries and museums, made our friends mutual and saw each other through the ups and downs of life.

Her last text message to me at an airport, before I left on a work trip, wished me luck and looked forward to catching up with me whilst I was away. I texted her back, signing off “take care”. The next time I heard of her she was missing - the news blurted out on a local radio station in the Colorado Mountains. Those snatched syllabus of her name stung deep. Not Miriam. Please, not Miriam. Surely nothing as brutal as a bomb could
touch such a lovely person.

I am still unable to comprehend the truth that this much treasured friend, adored by so many people is gone from our lives. The gaping cavern of grief opens up before all of us who knew and loved her. Her sudden absence haunts our waking hours and stalks our dreams. The grief fogs our thoughts.

Miriam was a tireless campaigner for others less fortunate than her. From raising substantial amounts of money for the charity that supported her friend with Myeloma, to her work to bring a greater understanding between Palestinians and Jews, she never let any spare time pass her by. In her short life she touched more people and was a greater force for good than anyone I've ever known. It makes her pointless death that Thursday all the more tragic. Not only have her many close friends of so many years and her dear family been robbed of shared times still to spend with her, but the many thousands of people she would have gone on to touch in positive ways through her voluntary work have also lost a better future.

If Hasib Hussain, who blew up the bus, had sat down and talked with Miriam he would not have chosen to murder her. He would have had no grudge with her. I feel sure he would have admired her in the way that everyone who met her did. A few moments in her company might have even melted his anger, and diluted the desperation he felt which drove him to try and change things through a random act of violence. But they never met that day their paths crossed on the number 30 bus in Tavistock Square. Close to where Miriam, Hasib and eleven others lost their lives in that usually tranquil square there stands a Holocaust memorial, a statue of Mahatma Gandhi, and a cherry tree from Hiroshima. Miriam’s death is one more memorial to the futility of indiscriminate acts of violence against strangers, perpetrated by nations and individuals alike.

We all miss her terribly.


Chris Riley - July 2005

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