Lisa Clayton with a photo of her late son Michael Clayton. Picture: Mike Batterham.

Walmsley was charged with possession of and unlawfully supplying Michael with the drug Fentanyl, often used during the palliative care of cancer patients, in 2015.

Walmsley, 21, who has not spent a night in jail since being charged, walked from court yesterday with two-and-a-half-years probation after pleading guilty to the charges.

In this moving Victim Impact Statement, Ms Clayton shares her heartbreak at losing her son.

I was a mess at work all day on Friday after finding out I can submit a Victim Impact Statement.

I am scared that I won’t be able to express how distraught I am/we are at losing Michael.

It is impossible for anyone to truly understand the pain a mother feels at the loss of a child unless it is experienced first hand. I never did until this nightmare became our life.

I would think how terrible it was for the parents when I heard of their loss and carry on with whatever I was doing, because life goes on.

Until you lose a child. Then life becomes something you have to do because you still have a seven-year-old that deserves to live a life and not be consumed by the devastation of her mother’s loss.

Pain like a wrecking ball to the chest is a daily occurrence. A memory, a song on the radio, a random thought. Then tears while I’m driving, while I’m standing in line at the checkout, while we are at lunch with a friend or on a play date.

Crying in public doesn’t worry me anymore. Holding in the tears is more damaging. Thank goodness for friends who let us grieve and talk.

‘Loving brother’ Michael Clayton and his little sister Jessica. Picture: Facebook.Source:Supplied

Michael was such a likeable person. Able to mix with any age group.

His smile lit up a room when he walked in.

He was a joker, a good listener, loving son, brother, grandson and friend.

His impersonation of Scooby Doo was spot on and had his sister in fits of giggles every time.

Michael loved peanut butter — on it’s own and on or in anything.

He was a natural sportsman. Not so much a natural on the dance floor, but it didn’t matter because he could Dougie.

Michael gave the best hugs. I miss them so much. I want another hug.

I want to hear him teasing his sister and then them fighting.

I want Jessica to have her big brother carry her up the stairs to bed when she falls asleep watching a movie on the couch. I want to see her snuggle in with a smile on her face because she is with her brother and that makes her feel safe.

But all I have now is a little girl looking up at me, pleading for me to fix her brother and bring him back to us. That is the image that haunts me as I write this statement. The day she realised in hospital that Michael wouldn’t wake up again and Mummy couldn’t fix it. My heart was already broken, but it still managed to shatter even more with that one look.

They say our eyes are the window to our soul. The photo I have attached to this statement (below) is how I feel every day.

Michael Clayton in hospital with his grief-stricken sister Jessica (left) and mother Lisa. Picture: Supplied by Lisa Clayton.Source:Supplied

I am prepared to be unhappy and hurting forever. Nothing can ever fill the hole in my heart. And I don’t want it too. The pain I feel today is just as strong as the day this nightmare began on the 28th of March 2015.

That weekend I was going to make loads of peanut butter Easter goodies for Michael.

I never got to make them. Instead, I spent the next three and a half weeks in hospital with my son. Praying every day that he would wake up and smile at me. Trying to stay positive in front of everyone and for Michael because I was terrified that if I didn’t, it would be like bad luck and we wouldn’t get my darling boy back.

Michael was my sole focus. I had to keep him comfortable and make sure that all that could be done was being done to bring Michael back to us.

I ensured Michael was never alone. There was always a family member, girlfriend, or close friend by his side. Jessica helped me to look after Michael too. She would wash and brush Michael’s hair, check that his headphones were still working, wash his face and help the nurses. They are the last memories she has of time spent with her brother. They don’t scare her. She is proud that she was able to look after Michael too.

I am forever thankful that the ambulance staff and doctors and nurses gave us this precious time with Michael.

Michael’s misguided trust meant that I had to make the heart-wrenching decision to let him go. And then I had to watch him deteriorate before my eyes and ultimately take his last breath. I knew when that exact moment was and held him close and told him I loved him with all my heart.

Michael Clayton, 21, passed away in April 2015 after taking a pain killer patch given to him as a “gift” by a personal trainer.Source:Supplied

He was surrounded by his family, in a room filled with love and tears.

Walking out of that room because Michael had to be put in a body bag and taken for autopsy, and then go home without him. No words can convey it. Just tears streaming down my face as I write.

I am left with anger and ‘what ifs’. What if he had been home with me that night instead of at his girlfriends? Would he have said he wasn’t well? I am certain I would have seen he wasn’t. Would it have been early enough to go to the hospital and fix him?

Would he still be here today so that life can be filled with everyday normal feelings and memories?

Now my sole focus is to ensure that Jessica lives her life and is healthy; that she confides in me in all things and that I watch her like a hawk.

I help her to remember her brother. She is scared that she will forget his voice. And scared that if anything happens to me or Nan or Grandad that she doesn’t have Michael to protect her and love her and hug her.

So I function for Jessica. I do it with a smile on my face because what has happened should not stop her from having a happy life. Because how can I explain to her that I don’t want to celebrate Mother’s Day any more, or my birthday or Christmas?

I always made birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Mother’s Day big deals and celebrated and spoiled my amazing kids unashamedly. Michael knew that it was all about family and was always around for these special times, regardless of work or girlfriend or friends.

Now it’s painful and I have to put on a smile and get through it. If I had my way I wouldn’t celebrate any of them again.

We have to celebrate Michael’s birthdays by releasing balloons now.

The first Mother’s Day ambushed me just after Michael left us. It was a terrible day and Jessica was wanting to spoil me. I had to keep going to the bathroom to cry. She caught me a few times and gave me hugs and told me it was “going to be okay Mumma”.

Then I had to have a birthday. And I struggled for a couple of weeks leading up to it because I didn’t know if I could be strong for Jessica and get through it without being a teary mess for her. I couldn’t wait for the day to be over.

Jessica’s birthday was just as traumatic. Lots of Michael’s friends turned up at Air Factory to help her celebrate along with her school friends. Jessica woke up in tears that morning because Michael wasn’t with us. We had lots of hugs and I told her all the funny stuff they did together and eventually she had a great day.

I burst into tears when Michael’s best friend turned up. I loved that he came and it made me hurt even more because it reminded that me that there were going to be so many more birthdays without him.

When Jessica turns 18 Michael would have been her bodyguard when she went our clubbing for the first time. He was going to be there for Schoolies when she decided she had to go. He would make sure that her future husband was a keeper, would look after his little sister and treat her as his queen.

Michael would have walked his sister down the aisle.

Michael and Jessica Clayton during a family holiday in Fiji. Picture: Facebook.Source:Supplied

I will miss out on Michael’s grandchildren. He would have been a fantastic husband and father. I miss out on spoiling them and hugging them and being the best nanna they could ever wish for. I am so angry that this has been taken from me. To see his blonde haired, blue eyed gorgeous little rat bags running around. Grand babies sleeping in my bed and waking me up with big eyes and big smiles at a ridiculously early time on a Saturday or Sunday morning.

Instead, I keep busy now. Because if I have any alone time I struggle emotionally. At work I have mini breakdowns. My boss arrives at work and walks into my office to me in tears. She doesn’t get alarmed anymore. She is used to it. She just hugs me and we talk and I get through it.

I developed a rash in hospital. Mum did too. It was through stress. I finally was free of it 10 months later. It started on my throat, went to my face, then on to my arms. The pain of it was terrible. It kept me from sleeping and was ugly. I wouldn’t want to go anywhere because I could not control the itching and was self conscious of it.

I have to watch that I don’t eat the foods that trigger another reaction and that I don’t let myself get too stressed. There have been times when I can’t help the stress and it has reared itself again.

I am constantly tired. I cannot get enough sleep no matter how early I go to bed. The grief is emotionally tiring and drains me.

I desperately need a holiday but I can’t bring myself to plan one. As a family, Michael, Jessica and I would go to Fiji every couple of years. We all loved it. But I can’t do that on my own with Jessica now. We would both be miserable. And as much as I have tried to think of something else, nothing feels right.

It is so unfair. Why should we have to live this nightmare. My children are my everything. My parents buried their grandson.

I am so thankful that I told Michael I loved him everyday.

My last message to Michael was asking him to get the delivery man to put the new bed head I had ordered upstairs and that I had left the back slider door open and fan going downstairs because I love you sooooo much — and can you remember to shut the door if you go out?

His reply was “yep yep and yep ha love you x”.

I miss my boy so-so much. I miss getting messages from him. I miss him yelling out from upstairs “MUUUUMMMM, can you put my washing on for me — I forgot to wash my chef jacket last night for work”.

Friends tell me they admire my strength and bravery. But they don’t see the mess I am inside and what they don’t get is that all that I do, I do for

I would not wish the nightmare of losing a child on my worst enemy and I hope with all my heart that my friends never have to experience this first hand.

If I can stop this senseless hurt from happening again I will do everything I possibly can to do so.

As hard as it has been to write this statements I appreciate that I can be heard. Thank you.