'My daughter Jade was murdered on a beautiful Sydney autumn day, within a hand's reach of other shoppers.'

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Jade was not a centre-of-attention girl. She did well at school, was a wonderful swimmer, a hopeless T-baller. Like me she didn't like sand. Sadly Premier Minns, respectfully, she never patrolled Bronte beach on a January morning. Perhaps the cafe for a cappuccino? She was a splendid architect, a loving friend, a gentle, soft-hearted mother, a fabulous generous daughter, a sucker for a newly acquired schnoodle, Teddy, who, might I add, behaved perfectly at the vigil.

In a matter of moments on a sunny Wollongong Saturday afternoon, my husband and I were wrenched out of a quiet retirement after 40 years of working, uprooted into a world of co-parenting two beloved, vulnerable, traumatised girls.

We are so lucky that Jade and Noel were already surrounded by wonderful wonderful family, friends and neighbours who have embraced us, are supporting us; hugging, laughing, howling, feeding us, driving us, playing with the children, building Lego, persuading the youngest to eat, checking the oldest daughter has actually eaten something other than sour lollies and grapes.

Our lives have been fractured, there will be no back to normal. There is no normal for us now.

Solace was spoken of at Sunday's vigil. Believe me, there is no solace.

I want to thank the NSW police who have helped and supported us; they have been impressive, particularly Leah Collins.

I also thank Westfield Bondi Junction for allowing me to kneel sobbing and incoherent with grief, where my beautiful Jade died.

I thank the magnificent Bronte Surf Club members who have been holding us close and weeping with us.

I thank a teacher, Leanne, who took my granddaughter who was with her mother in the moments after.