Tomorrow marks the sixth anniversary of the Manchester Arena bombing, an act of evil so traumatising for our city it may be tempting for many people to pretend it isn't happening.
It's an understandable impulse. After all, who wants to be reminded about the slaughter of innocents, among them children, murdered at a pop concert on a Monday night?
It's an impulse we should try to resist, to remember the 22 who lost their lives when an Islamic State fanatic decided to detonate a huge improvised device at the Arena on May 22, 2017. To remember the still grieving families they left behind and others who survived but are left with life-changing injuries and psychological trauma the rest of us can barely imagine.
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Nobody wants a life which has been snuffed out too soon to have been pointless. The families who love and miss them every day want to know their lives had meaning and their deaths weren't for nothing. They want to know - they demand - that the shocking failures of the MI5, the police and others won't be repeated, so that no other family has suffer as they have suffered.
It matters that people care today and in years to come. It matters that people remember - remember more than the outpouring that followed the attack, when our city wept and embraced the 'I Love Manchester' campaign, and we plastered worker bees on our car windscreens and anywhere else with space for them.
Those bees are interesting. Before the bomb, nobody really took much notice of the bees on the bins all around Manchester nor on the city's coat of arms. And, since the attack, bee merchandise has become quite the industry. I know for at least one family, the omni-present bee symbol in Manchester makes it difficult for them to visit the city centre - for them the bee is inextricably linked to the bombing and is a reminder of a loved one who has gone - rather a symbol of industry, pride and resilience.
For each family, they will mark the anniversary in their own way. Some, like Figen Murray, whose son Martyn Hett was among those who died, and the families of Alison Howe and Lisa Lees, from Royton, will stay at home. Alison's husband, retired builder Steve Howe, 67, has previously admitted he struggles to cope on anniversaries, birthdays and Mothers Day. Others will come into the city centre tomorrow and meet old friends.
At Victoria Railway station, on the concourse which became a makeshift field hospital for the injured, a handful of families, among them Ken Mullen, whose nephew Philip Tron, 32, a barman from Gateshead, died in the attack, will gather at Soldiers Gate, a World War One memorial, for a minute's silence at 10.31pm, the precise moment the bomb went off.
It's not really an official event. Someone will say a few words. Then people who have become friends because of the most awful tragedy and the subsequent public inquiry will chat to each other, as they have done at all the previous anniversaries. Some of the lawyers who've represented them will also be there. One or two others who were there on the night may also attend, as they have done previously, to show their support.
More formal acts of remembrance will take place elsewhere. At Manchester Cathedral, there will be three services, morning prayer at 9am, holy communion at 1.10pm and choral evensong at 5.30pm, at which the names of the 22 will be read out. A single tenor bell will toll 22 times at 10.31pm.
Over at the Glade of Light memorial not far away, people will lay flowers.
Figen Murray has become an amazing campaigner for legislation in her son's name, Martyn's Law, to tighten security at venues and require those venues and local authorities to have plans in place to prevent terror attacks.
Her campaign, she admits, has helped keep her mind away from the pain she still feels for her son, who was just 29 when he was killed. And the anniversaries get harder.
She told the M.E.N: "It's the entire month of May. It used to be my favourite month. Now I'm dreading May every year and the run up to the anniversary gets more and more stressful as the date comes nearer and the emotional burden becomes heavy. Thankfully I have Martyn's law, which keeps me rather busy."
Today (Sunday) her family and Martyn's friends will come together, as they have done in the days before each anniversary, and they will celebrate his life privately, and Figen will lay some flowers at the Glade of Light memorial.
But tomorrow, the actual anniversary of the attack, Figen will stay at her home in Cheshire. "I can't go into Manchester. I literally can't face it. I'll stay at home. We have planted a tree for Martyn in the park opposite where some of his ashes were scattered. That's where I need to be, just a bit of reflection and tell him how much I miss him. That's going to be a difficult day for me. It's going to be a weird time this time because after the anniversary I'm at Manchester Arena to do a talk there."
On Tuesday, Figen will give a talk at a large events conference at the Arena. She will make a point of walking through the City Room, where the blast happened and her son and others were killed.
She's been there a couple of times before, one of them just before the start of the public inquiry where she retraced the steps Salman Abedi made before he detonated his device.
"It was really important to me to walk where he walked and press the button in the lift where he had his fingers. I'm glad I did it. It was difficult to do but I needed to do it," said Figen.
On Tuesday's return to the Area, she said: "I've done hundreds of talks but this is going to be the hardest one... I will be getting to walk past where Martyn died to give extra impetus and to do a very powerful talk."
The point is that if the families can find the courage to remember, then so should the rest of us.
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