I was finally persuaded to leave the hospital, when I knew for sure I couldn’t see Isaac that night.
Rumour had got round the hospital and almost 100 people had turned up.
I walked down the corridor and Isaac’s friends flanked either side. I’ve never seen such devastation – at that age you’re not used to experiencing death. They couldn’t look at me. They were sobbing uncontrollably.
I remember vividly how hysterical they were.
I got home from hospital at midnight.
I couldn’t go to sleep that night, the grief was immense.
The next day police came round and explained what they thought had happened to Isaac. Again they told me I couldn’t see him.
I was distraught at this. I remember thinking how he is on his own. I thought, I’m his mum, he must be wondering where I am.
It was four days later on Wednesday when I was finally able to see him.
I didn’t know what to expect when saw him.
It was the most horrific thing I’ve ever been through.
He just looked as if he was asleep. He was cold to touch, very cold, and his skin felt hard.
I hadn’t spoken until then. I’d had no words for days – the grief was too much for me.
In some way I think I thought that when I saw Isaac it would be ok.
In the West Indian community, when you are grieving your home becomes an open house with people coming round to pay their condolences.
Every day people from the community were turning up to pay their respects and I remember still not really believing it in some ways – I thought that when he heard my voice he’d wake up and it would all be ok.
So when I spoke to him on that day, and he didn’t respond, that’s when everything came tumbling down for me.
This is the second in a series of blog posts by Yvette Lendore, mum of Isaac Stone, as part of the Bedfordshire Police campaign against serious youth violence and knife crime.
Isaac was murdered in Bedford on 25 January 2014. He was just 19.
Read the first blog post in the series, ‘The day my son was murdered’.