Laura Manni was looking forward to sharing her future with Greg, unaware of the heartache ahead.

"I first laid eyes on Greg Highwood-Mack two years ago, underneath the clock tower at St Paul's Cathedral in London.  I'd moved from Canada to do my masters in education at Cambridge, and after a run of bad boyfriends, I'd decided to try internet dating.  As soon as Greg saw my profile, he emailed me and we spent hours getting to know each other.  We got on so well that he decided to cancel his membership.  But because we were so preoccupied over the next couple of weeks, he forgot to do it and was charged for another month.  He joked I was the best £30 he'd ever wasted. 

"When I saw him for the first time, I knew Greg was exactly my type - tall and slim, with spiky hair.  We bought some drinks and walked down towards the Thames, where we sat and talked non-stop.  He told me about his friend, John, who was paralysed in a car crash they'd both been in a few years before and I told him about my brother, Frankie, who's autistic and epileptic. 

"Frankie's my litmus test; I could never be with a man who isn't interested in him.  But as time passed, Frankie and John became the part of the reason I fell in love with Greg, as I'd watch him carry John to his seat when he went to the theatre and see how tender he was with Frankie on a trip to Toronto. 

"But on that first date, we were so busy talking and John and Frankie that we couldn't decide on a restaurant and found ourselves walking in a circle, coming to a stop at a zebra crossing where Greg suddenly hugged me.  We ended up going for pizza and kept on chatting.  It was a magical night, and when it finally ended Greg gave me the most beautiful first kiss. 

"After that we became inseparable.  I discovered Greg was half-French, that certain olive oils have to be kept for special occasions, that everything Gallic (except cars) is superior and that if Greg didn't buy it, find it, suggest it or make it, it probably wasn't worth having!  How lovely, I thought, that someone so picky who wanted the best from life chose me.   If I was in a bad mood, he'd tell me he understood.  If I was silent, he made an effort to break through the barriers.  He loved going shopping with me, never said no to a chick flick and always looked at me as if he'd never seen anyone more beautiful.   Greg also taught me that hugs could feel like home. 

"We agreed to give each other adventures, not gifts, so we went to the ballet, opera and theatre.  We also walked by the sea and toured around France.  With Greg, everything was exciting - he was anything but ordinary.  It's weird what you see when you look back at someone's life.  Greg lived his as if he knew he wasn't going to be around forever. 

"Within six months of our first meeting, we were living together at his house in Ashford, Kent.  We spent our weekends decorating and planning the home we'd make together, the children we'd have and the places we'd discover.  He never officially proposed, but we talked about getting married and moving to Canada.  Although Greg worked in IT, he wanted to do something more people-orientated, so we decided it was the perfect time to start a new life together overseas.  En route to Canada we wanted to spend a few months in the Far East to do voluntary work in an orphanage - we both loved children.  Our lives were all mapped out and we even had our flights booked.  But then, three months before we were due to set off, the life we'd carefully planned fell apart without warning. 

"It was just an ordinary day.  We hugged as we left for work, chatted on email...and then my phone rang.  It was Greg's workmate, Alex, telling me that the man I loved had suffered some kind of seizure and collapsed.  I didn't panic at the time because Frankie had fits and always survived.  Maybe Greg was epileptic, too?  'Whatever it is, we can cope and it could be worse,' I said to myself as I put the phone down.  Moments later, Alex arrived to drive me to the hospital.  I could tell he was worried, but Greg, was healthy and only 29 - it never entered my head he could die.  What none of us knew, thought, was that Greg's heart was enlarged on one side as a result of a disease called cardiomyopathy - one of the causes of sudden adult death syndrome (SADS). 

"I arrived at the hospital and Greg's colleague, who'd tried to revive him, said, 'I gave him a kiss from you.  I kept telling him he had someone to come back for.'  That's when I knew it was serious.  The doctor told me they'd struggled to find a pulse and there was a lot of swelling to his brain.  Despite being resuscitated, Greg had been starved of oxygen and it was unlikely he'd make a full recovery.  In a daze I called his family.  'He's a fighter, he'll be fine,' his mum kept saying. 

"The next nine days were the hardest of my life.  I watched tests being done, hoping his eyes would flicker, but they didn't.  But I'm glad I had those last days with Greg, so I could brush his hair one last time, give him a shave and play his favourite music.  His family were so good to me; they even told the doctors I was Greg's wife to make sure they kept me involved.  But, eventually, we were told the awful truth - the Greg we knew and loved didn't exist anymore.  On 19 March 2006, his organs started to shut down.  I lay next to the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with and held his hand as slowly everything stopped, and he died. 

"For the next five months, I stayed with friends.  I didn't want to go back to Canada because all my friends there were settling down and I couldn't face starting a new life.  I needed to find purpose something to help me hold onto Greg.  So when his step dad told me about a primary school in Zambia that his company was supporting, I knew that was where I needed to be.  Greg had always wanted to work with kids and this was my chance to carry on with the plans we'd made together. 

"When I arrived at Mukwashi Primary School, the classrooms had just been built.  I threw myself into work, setting up the curriculum, helping to hire teachers, ensuring every child had at least one meal a day and asking UK companies to send us books so we could open a library. 

"Funerals happened all the time in Zambia.  The caretaker's two-year-old son died while | was there.  'We carry each other's sadness,' he told me.  'Every time you share someone's story, you share your sadness.  But one day you'll find Greg again.' 

"I couldn't have picked a better place to start healing - the children were like my medicine.  Every day they'd hold my hand and beg me to read to them.  Suddenly, marriage and babies weren't the end goal for me; I had this amazing love again and it was real. 

"I know Greg's gone but I take him with me everywhere I go and feel like he'd doing things through me, which is nice.  'You could die tomorrow and look at what you'll have left behind,' Judah, the head teacher, said to me.  'You should be proud.'  And I am.  I've just moved back to England but I hope to return to Zambia to build another school. 

"My life since Greg's death has been an attempt to make some of the things we planned to do together become a reality.  I'm motivated by a desire to make him proud.  I still look forward to the day when it doesn't hurt so much to breathe, knowing how much I've lost and how close I came to my 'happy every after'.  Yet, despite the pain, I'd still do it all again - with even more love.  I'd listen more, give more time, agree more and argue less.  But for now, the idea of spending my life doing something that brings so much satisfaction and happiness is great.  And I know Greg would be proud of me." 

SUDDEN ADULT DEATH SYNDROME

Eight young people die each week in the UK from undiagnosed heart conditions or SADS.  Cardiac Risk in the Young (CRY) has recently launched The Heart Screening Awareness Partnership (in conjunction with Philips, which is donating medical equipment) to improve access to heart screening.  For more information, visit www.c-r-y.org.uk/philips.htm