Hope ended with a knock at the door.
Sharidyn Svebakk-Bohn, just turned 14, was among the missing after a far-right terrorist went on a shooting rampage on Utoya Island in Norway.
It had been 10 days since her Kiwi-Norwegian family had seen her, and five days since news broke of the attack by Anders Breivik.
"You go into a state of chaos," her mother, Vanessa Svebakk, recalled. "In those first few days you live with this intense fear that's almost debilitating, while desperately searching for any sign they are still alive."
On the fifth day, police officers knocked on their door and confirmed Sharidyn was the youngest of 69 people - mainly children - killed on Utoya. A further eight people died in a bombing in Oslo.
"People were already sending us condolences before the police notification was made. Deep down we knew she wasn't coming home. But there was this absurdity, this clinging to hope - that maybe she was hiding behind a stone somewhere that the police hadn't searched, or she was in a hospital, still unidentified."
Sharidyn died on July 22, 2011, a date seared into the history of terror. Last Friday - March 15, 2019 - her mother tried to describe her anguish after the latest chapter.
"Devastating that even more families are now members of a 'club' that none of us want to be members of - victims of terrorism," she wrote in a post on Facebook about the Christchurch mosque attacks.
"Our thoughts and tears today are dedicated not only to our own loved ones that we buried almost eight years ago, but especially to the almost 100 Kiwi families that will spend the rest of their lives trying [to] find their own version of 'absurd normal' in the aftermath of the day that changed their lives forever. At least until the next terrorist attack."
In the days that followed Svebakk and her husband, Roger, visited Sharidyn's grave (17 July 1997 New Zealand, 22 July 2011 Utoya), and tears were shed. As a token of respect, Svebakk and a close family friend, a fellow Kiwi, also took flowers to an Islamic centre in Oslo.
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Like the rest of the world, she has seen the piles of flowers at mosque cordons, the impromptu haka and singing of Pokarekare Ana , a Prime Minister in headscarf hugging members of the Muslim community, the Givealittle pledges tick past $10 million.
Her message to New Zealanders: keep it up, because those gestures really matter to bereaved families hit by a unique grief.
"A terrorist event - the intensity of the coverage is on a completely different level. It's the brutality of terrorism, especially when children are among the victims. There's the international focus. The mass numbers makes it a story that almost never disappears from the news, and for many it will intensify their grief over longer periods of time," Svebakk said in an interview with the Herald
"And the way the public respond, the way the media respond, will indirectly affect those families' grief ... this is a call to all Kiwis to continue showing the love. You are already leading the world in that sense."
Svebakk said her daughter Savannah, now 14 and the same age as Sharidyn when she died, had the best advice on how people could respond.
"And that is for people to be kind. Show compassion ... terrorism is a heinous example of how absolutely terrible humans can be towards each other. It was the compassion shown by close family and even strangers that basically got us through the darkest days after losing Sharidyn.
"There is a grief that is indescribable. It's so painful, some will learn to cope with it and for others their grief may become more complicated. But over time, everyone will learn to deal with it, eventually, in their own way. Unfortunately, the road ahead will be long.
"Most important is the network they have around them. The support from the New Zealand public will also be a deciding factor in their recovery. How they get through will be dependent on how New Zealand supports them."
That aroha must outlast the initial news cycles, Svebakk said, and continue through the accused mosque gunman's court appearances and trial. The July 22 families came under enormous pressures, and not just emotional - some affected relatives were now destitute.
Svebakk said some countries where there had been terror attacks had lost sight of the victims, with debate focusing on the accused and ideology. New Zealand could show another way.
"We are bound in tradition of generosity, we are bound in tradition of compassion, we are bound in tradition of genuine kindness. It's our Māori and Kiwi traditions. It's the fact we're a multicultural country. Not everything is perfect, but we do it a lot better than most.
"What will power New Zealand's recovery are the victims and their stories. Remembering them will help future generations. Teaching them about the absolute extreme consequence of extremism, radicalisation."
It was too early to progress now, but Svebakk was sure New Zealand would eventually build a world-leading memorial and museum, to tell victims' stories and educate future generations.
After eight years, her family's grief is less intense but can still overwhelm. It rushes in each time there's a terror attack.
"Every act of terrorism is a brutal reminder," Svebakk said. "Like my other two daughters, Sharidyn was my world. And my world got turned upside down. And I've been trying to get it the right side up for eight years.
"And every time we think we have, something else hits it and we get slightly knocked off course again."
The only way forward is to remember Sharidyn and the happy memories she created.
"Besides Sharidyn's sisters, our memories are all we have left ... the alternative is to basically dig ourselves a grave right next to her. Because hopelessness takes over. And we've refused to bow to it."
Sharidyn "was everything we love about being New Zealanders", her mother said.
"She was a bundle of energy, she was a beautiful child, inside and out. Sharidyn was pure happiness. Very rarely sad. And she was inherently kind. We miss her every day."
In the days after police confirmed her death, there was another knock on the door. A stranger stood before them with a 200 kroner (about NZ$35) note in her hand.
"She told us how she had met our daughter only a few weeks before. The woman had been through a hard time, and when she went to pay for her groceries she didn't have enough money.
"Sharidyn had been standing behind her in line, and had given her 200 kroners. By the time the woman had time to react, she'd walked out of the shop.
"When she saw Sharidyn's photo in the news, she immediately recognised her. Her gesture to return the money wasn't ours to take ... we only asked that she pay it forward."
Those stories had helped steer them through. So had a move to Mount Maunganui, where Svebakk was born and raised.
While living there Savannah dedicated her entry in a school speech competition to her sister, telling classmates their generation had the power and responsibility "to fiercely protect our right to live, our right to love whom we want, our right to religious freedom, our right to freedom of speech and our right to believe in what we want".
"But we have a greater responsibility of being kind to one another," she said in the speech, a copy of which is now online.
"To accept and respect other opinions, religious beliefs and cultures, which are different to our own."
The family moved abroad again in 2017 for work reasons. Their two years in New Zealand was healing, Svebakk said. She hoped Aotearoa would do the same for the Christchurch families, and wider Muslim community.
"We do crisis in New Zealand. Unfortunately, we've had more than our fair share. And if there is one thing New Zealand does better than most, it's taking care of our own."