In fact, her art is still arriving at the quiet Hampstead Garden Suburb cul-de-sac she grew up in. Cards she made for friends around the world have been dug out from lofts and old shoeboxes, and sent to her family home, as word travels that Miriam's memorial is to be her art. Miriam was 32 when she died in the bomb on a bus in Tavistock Square last July. In January, she'd been made redundant from a job she loved. That was a low. But she'd turned it around, and made the best of the situation. She went freelance, and had plenty of work.
 | | Miriam's mother Mavis |
She was loving the freedom her lifestyle gave her, allowing her to work when she wanted, meet friends when she wanted. This is the story told to me by Miriam's mother, Mavis. Just one of the many memories she shares with me. A year on, the emotion of losing one of her daughters is still raw. There's upset, but no anger… "No one in our family has felt anger," she says. "I think there's the possibility it might come later but we're very lucky we never anger. From the moment that it happened, we decided that this was going to be our reality." Mavis and her husband John, decided a fitting way to remember Miriam would be to use her art. They created a book, to raise money for Orbis, a charity that trains doctors in developing countries to cure people's sight problems. The thinking was that the visual pleasure from Miriam's work could somehow be used to cure blindness amongst the poorest people in the world.
 | | An example of Miriam's artwork. |
"After the events of 7/7, people were so uptight about what had happened but those who knew me in the first instance were very anxious to be able to something to counteract what had happened," she says. "They were outraged but they wanted to do something that would cancel the outrage." Now, to coincide with the anniversary of 7/7, Miriam's art is being exhibited in City Hall. Her mother says the variety of styles on show reflect aspects of her personality. Controlled lines and colour show her cautious side. Her later screenprints show how she would sometimes throw caution to the wind. One of them is unfinished, probably her last work. Mavis says Miriam never imagined her work would be exhibited. It used to be stuck to the fridge with blu-tac. Seeing it mounted and hung in a gallery space was "a poignant, emotional moment." Mavis and her husband won't be joining other families to remember 7/7. They find it too emotional. Instead Friday will be a quiet day. The candle which has been burning in their front room for the last year, will be blown out. | 
