Amy, My Daughter

by Mitch Winehouse

  ‘What – you going to do this regularly, then? Hope they’re paying you,’ I joked.

  ‘Oh, shut up! I love doing it, Dad. I feel like I can do anything I want here in Camden. It’s like my playground. But when I’ve had enough I can come home here where it’s all peace and quiet and I feel safe.’

  I was flying to New York on 22 July for some gigs, so the day before I left I went to Camden Square to say goodbye to Amy – this was when she showed me the photos she’d found. She told me she was going to see Dionne perform at the iTunes Festival at the Roundhouse in Camden that night; I told her to wish Dionne good luck from me. When we spoke the next day, she told me she’d had a great time at the Roundhouse: Dionne had invited her on to the stage and she had danced while Dionne sang.

  Sadly, that was Amy’s last public appearance.

  On Saturday, 23 July 2011, my darling daughter Amy passed away.

  21

  FAREWELL, CAMDEN TOWN

  I arrived back at Heathrow airport on the morning of Sunday, 24 July. My friend Hayden picked me up and drove me to his house in north London where Jane was waiting for me. We cried and cried until it seemed there were no tears left.

  We went to Janis’s house not far away and we all cried some more. Alex and Riva were already there and people continued to arrive throughout the day. I was in a daze and I don’t really remember much of what went on. Things were happening around me and I felt removed from the scene, as if I was watching a movie.

  I kept asking myself, how could this have happened?

  I had seen Amy the day before I flew to New York and she was fine. Janis, Richard and Reg had seen her the next day and she was fine. And she was still fine later that night – although, according to Andrew, she was ‘tipsy’. When Andrew checked on her a bit later, she was singing and playing drums in her room. He had checked on her again in the morning and thought she was asleep. Then he checked a few hours later and realized she wasn’t asleep. Immediately he had raised the alarm.

  A lot of people believe that Amy’s life was in turmoil during her last eighteen months. But nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, she had lapses back into alcoholism, but those lapses had been gradually getting further and further apart. There was no doubt in those around her that her life was going in the right direction. I always equated Amy’s neatness, or lack of it, to how well-ordered her mind was at any particular time. During those last eighteen months the clothes in her wardrobes were neat and tidy, her books and CDs were organized alphabetically and her sketchbooks numbered.

  I knew that Amy couldn’t have died from a drug overdose, as she had been drug-free since 2008. But although she had been so brave and had fought so hard in her recovery from alcoholism, I knew she must have lapsed once again. I thought that Amy hadn’t had a drink for three weeks. But she had actually started drinking at Dionne’s Roundhouse gig the previous Wednesday. I didn’t know that at the time.

  The following morning Janis, Jane, Richard Collins (Janis’s fiancé), Raye, Reg and I went to St Pancras mortuary to officially identify Amy. Alex couldn’t bring himself to go, which I fully understood. When we arrived there were loads of paps outside the court, but they were all very respectful. We were shown into a room and saw Amy behind a window. She looked very, very peaceful, as if she was just asleep, which in a way made it a lot harder. She looked lovely. There was a slight red blotchiness to her skin, which was why, at the time, I thought she might have had a seizure: she looked as she had done when she had had seizures in the past.

  Eventually the others left Janis and me to say goodbye to Amy by ourselves. We were with her for about fifteen minutes. We put our hands on the glass partition and spoke to her. We told her that Mummy and Daddy were with her and that we would always love her.

  I can’t express what it was like. It was the worst feeling in the world.

  Then we went to Camden Square, where we were joined by Alex and Riva. The police were still investigating the possibility of foul play, so we weren’t allowed inside the house. But hundreds of fans were there and they had turned the square into a shrine. We gathered together and looked at the tributes left at the edge of the police cordons. I thanked the reporters and fans for coming, and shook hands with many of them, fighting back the tears. There were drinks and cigarettes, some beautiful notes and lovely artwork, soft toys, flowers and candles. It was very touching and comforting to know how much Amy was loved. Eventually I broke down and couldn’t stop crying.

  After that we went back to Janis’s house where our friends and other members of the family were waiting. I told them what had come into my mind during the bleak hours over the Atlantic as I’d flown home. ‘I started thinking of a Foundation,’ I said. ‘Amy’s Foundation. So that disadvantaged young people dealing with addiction, ill health or homelessness can be supported.’

  I hadn’t thought much more than that but the idea was out there now. Gradually others started adding to it, and it grew.

  The post-mortem examination was inconclusive. The Metropolitan Police said, ‘It did not establish a formal cause of death,’ and that they were awaiting the results of further toxicology tests, which were not expected for two to four weeks. In the meantime, the police treated Amy’s death as unexplained.

  An inquest was opened and adjourned until 26 October to allow us to make the funeral arrangements.

  In the Jewish tradition a funeral must take place at the earliest opportunity and, since the coroner had released the body, the funeral could take place the following day, 26 July. Certain branches of Judaism do not permit cremation, but my mother had been cremated and we thought that was what Amy would have wanted for herself when she was to be reunited with her Nan Cynthia. There was so much to do and my marvellous friends rallied round us to ensure that everything that had to be done was done, in time for the service and cremation. I started to write Amy’s eulogy.

  * * *

  Amy was cremated at the Golders Green Crematorium in north London on 26 July 2011, a service just for family and friends, in the same hall we had used for my mother’s funeral in May 2006. Following the service, we filed outside into the gardens, leaving Amy’s security boys to look after Amy in death as they had done in life. They emerged ten minutes later and I knew that it was over.

  We then went on to the Schindler Hall in Southgate, north London, for the beginning of the shiva, the Jewish period of mourning: each evening, for the following three days, hundreds of family and friends came to pay their respects and join us in prayer. The shiva eases the pain just a little bit. My dear friends wouldn’t leave my side during the days that followed, which was a great comfort to me.

  Before the cremation, there had been a service for Amy in the prayer hall at the Edgwarebury Jewish cemetery in north London. When we’d arrived at the cemetery that morning, I was still in a daze and felt that it wasn’t really happening. I just couldn’t take it in. The service was by invitation only and there must have been five hundred people inside the hall, and at least another five hundred outside. We said prayers in English and Hebrew, and ended the service with a recording of Carole King’s ‘So Far Away’ – Amy’s favourite song.

  Before that, I read my eulogy, most of which had been written the day before. I had deliberately left gaps, where I didn’t need the written word to know what I wanted to say:

  Family and friends. We are here to celebrate the life of our darling daughter Amy. I could say that Amy was the most iconic singer of the twenty-first century. I could say that Amy has sold over 22 million CDs, I could say that Tony Bennett said that Amy was the greatest singer since Ella Fitzgerald. But what I will say is that Amy Winehouse was the greatest daughter, family member and friend that anyone could wish for. My friends and Janis’s friends were Amy’s friends.

  I told the congregation the stories I’ve written here about Amy’s youth, about her games and how she would play up; I told them about the times she’d spent at her various schools, the friends she’d made then and later
within the music industry.

  Amy’s friends were lifelong and deep. Tyler, Naomi, Jevan, Catriona, Chantelle, John and Kelly, Nicky Shymansky, Lucian Grainge, all at Metropolis and 19 Management and, of course, Raye Cosbert, Selena and Petra. Raye is more than Amy’s manager: he is our brother and our guide. Amy’s boys – Andrew, Anthony, Neville and Chris – are family to us. I would trust my life to them. Their care and patience over the years have been outstanding.

  I wanted to explain to people what we knew about Amy’s last days, as there had been lots of incorrect speculation in the papers that I wanted to address.

  Recently Amy had found love with her new boy Reg and he had helped her deal with many of her problems; she was looking forward to their future together. She was happier than we had seen her in a long while… really happy.

  Three years ago she conquered her drug dependency and she was really trying hard to deal with her alcohol problems. She had just had three weeks of abstinence and was really very content with her life.

  She had been told by her doctor, Christina Romete, that drinking and then abstaining was perhaps worse than carrying on drinking, as it screws up your electrolytes and can bring on seizures, which could result in death.

  Sadly, Amy was prone to these seizures.

  But let me stress that Amy was not depressed… I had seen her on the Thursday before I went to New York, and Janis, Richard and Reg saw Amy on the Friday. She was on top form.

  That night Amy was in her room playing her drums and singing. As it was getting late, Andrew told her to quieten down. She did so and Andrew heard her walking around for some time later.

  He then went to check her and thought she was asleep on the bed. Several hours later he checked on her again and realized she hadn’t moved in that time. She had gone.

  So that was it. We are all left here bereft and stunned. Janis’s and my baby has gone. She was the light of all of our lives and will, together with Alex and Riva, remain the light of our lives.

  I wanted to say something about the special talent my daughter had been blessed with. I spoke about how she’d done what she’d told Sylvia Young she wanted to do all those years ago. As a family we wanted people to continue to find their troubles eased by Amy’s voice.

  Amy’s last gig was at the 100 Club. Her voice was good but her wit and timing were perfect. Everyone enjoyed themselves… most of all Amy. She had a terrific generosity of spirit, which always shone through.

  Her legacy will remain.

  Reg and Tyler, Janis and Richard, Alex and Riva, Janey and I will somehow have to find a way to continue without Amy. It will be hard. But we have you lot to support us… and together we will get through this.

  I told them a little about my mother and Amy, and then I continued:

  Richard recently showed me an old school book of Amy’s from 1995. This was from just after Janis and I divorced… Amy drew a heart and split it into sections of things that she loved the best. She wrote: Alex, her mum, and me, her dad. This was just after I had left the house… she wrote that she missed me.

  I had never seen this before.

  In the last entry in the school book she wrote: ‘I love to live… and I live to love.’ She was just twelve years old.

  Good night, my angel, sleep tight.

  Mummy and Daddy love you so much.

  EPILOGUE

  Amy’s passing was and is unbearable. Our lives have changed for ever and will never be the same again.

  On Friday, 29 July 2011, Janis and Richard, Alex, Reg, Tyler, Jane and I were allowed into her house in Camden Square to remove some of Amy’s personal things. Among them we took her beloved guitar for safekeeping.

  We were greeted again by mourning fans. Around the square layers of floral tributes, photographs and messages were still growing. I tried to show the fans my appreciation for their support and love for Amy by handing out some of her T-shirts. I put on a brave face, and even managed a small smile as I watched their reactions.

  On Saturday, 30 July, the immediate family and some close friends attended Finchley Reform Synagogue for a Sabbath morning service, which included some special prayers for Amy.

  It was the end of the worst week of my life.

  Over the next few weeks and months, four things were going to consume my time: setting up Amy’s Foundation; waiting for the result of the inquest into Amy’s death; dealing with Amy’s musical legacy; and, happily, attending my son’s wedding.

  Among the multitudes of cards and letters sent to us, Jane and I received three scrapbooks in the post from a young lady called Florence, who was in her twenties and had learning difficulties. The scrapbooks were full of newspaper cuttings and pictures of Amy, accompanied by Florence’s comments. For example, if there was a picture of Amy coming out of a pub, Florence had written, ‘No Amy, no pub, no pub.’ If there was a picture of Amy smoking, Florence had put, ‘No smoking, no smoking Amy, no smoking.’ We were so moved that this young lady wanted us to have her beloved collection that we decided to go and see her. We wanted to give the scrapbooks back to Florence, and for her to continue adding to them, because Amy’s story isn’t over. Through the work of Amy’s Foundation, Florence will have many more cuttings to add to her collection. About that, I am determined.

  Jane and I went to see Florence again some months later, taking with us one of Amy’s bowling shirts. It was being with her that made me think that maybe some good could come out of our tragedy.

  * * *

  I realize that in times of bereavement your mind can play tricks on you. I was looking for answers and signs, and there were a number of spooky incidents in the days and weeks after Amy’s passing. They could be interpreted as nothing more than coincidences, with logical explanations, but I found them comforting: they made me feel that Amy was close.

  It had started at the service for Amy at Edgwarebury Lane. As I began reading the eulogy, a black butterfly came into the prayer hall. I had my head down, because I was reading, but I could hear people muttering and thought that the paparazzi had got in. The butterfly landed on Kelly Osbourne’s shoulder, then flew around me. I believe that it was sign from above to show Amy’s loved ones she was now at peace. She was with us in spirit and I believe that she was present at her own funeral in the form of that black butterfly.

  The next strange thing happened at my sister Melody’s house a few nights later. A very small blackbird, which isn’t a common sight at night, flew into the house and landed on Jane’s foot. It was so tame and quite happy sitting there. We took it out into the garden and gently threw it into the air, where it circled and came back. We threw it into the air again and again, but each time it circled and landed next to us. Eventually we gave it some milk and bread and it spent the rest of the evening with us.

  The next incidents took place in Jamaica. About three months prior to Amy’s passing, Jane and I had arranged to go to the wedding of the son of a friend. We were due to leave on 6 August. As the day approached I didn’t want to go: the image of Amy in the mortuary wouldn’t leave me. Jane pointed out that it might do us good to get away – it might help me to shake myself free of that picture. In the end I agreed with her. When we arrived at our hotel, though, my head was still all over the place. I felt very miserable; I couldn’t be bothered to unpack and went out onto the balcony, where I was greeted by a bird and a butterfly, pirouetting around each other, as if they had been waiting for me.

  Early each morning Jane and I went for a quiet walk on the mostly deserted beach. Every day we’d walk, talk and cry. And every day we were followed by a butterfly. We stopped, the butterfly stopped, we walked on and the butterfly continued following us. We tested it and started to walk back the way we had come and the butterfly came with us. We sat down on a sun bed and the butterfly joined us. It really was quite amazing.

  I had been praying to my mum for Amy to give me a sign, just give me something, and I really felt that those prayers were being answered. I asked myself, when do you ever see a but
terfly come into a hall full of people? When do you ever see a blackbird hop into a room full of people and keep coming back? When do you ever see a bird and a butterfly dancing together? When do you see a butterfly keeping pace with you while you’re walking and stopping when you stop?

  I decided that I was going to name the company that would handle the Foundation business ‘Bird & Butterfly’ and that a bird and a butterfly would form the logo for Amy’s Foundation.

  Working on Foundation business helped keep my mind off my pain. But as the days passed, things got harder rather than easier. More and more the enormity of what had happened struck me. I missed Amy so much and there was nothing I could do about that. I found myself sending her a text: ‘When are you coming home?’

  I can’t help myself: my heart is broken.

  A couple of months after Amy’s death I had another of those odd moments when a message from Amy seemed to come to me. Trenton Harrison-Lewis, my manager, told me he’d seen Amy the Wednesday before she had passed away. She was at the Roundhouse to watch Dionne Bromfield perform and she’d gone up to Trenton, patted his stomach and said, ‘Look after my dad.’

  That was odd. Had she had a premonition that something was going to happen to her?

  * * *

  There had to be an inquest into Amy’s death and, as part of that process, Janis, Jane and I went to see the coroner, who told us that no trace of drugs had been found in Amy’s blood. I’d been going on about Amy not having taken drugs for about three years but there were still a lot of people who didn’t believe me. Toxicology reports later confirmed that Amy’s system had not contained any illegal drugs at the time of her death. The alcohol levels found in Amy’s blood, however, were very, very, high: 416 mg of alcohol per 100 ml of blood. The pathologist who conducted her post-mortem examination said 350 mg of alcohol per 100 ml of blood was considered a fatal level.