She was looking forward to returning to Kaitaia College, a normal teenage life and beyond. Her big challenges then included bonding with a handsome chocolate point Burmese cat by the name of Gizmo.
None of that is going to happen now. Her illness has returned, and her life expectancy is now measured in a very few weeks. She and her family are intent on making the most of those few weeks, building memories that will sustain her parents, brother and sister for the rest of their lives.
The platitude that God moves in mysterious ways cannot begin to explain how or why this should happen to a child and her family.
The only lesson to be taken perhaps is that tragedy can visit us all unbidden, without explanation or reason. We cannot begin to imagine the courage now demanded of Georgia as she is forced to accept that there is nothing to be done to help her, or her family, as they face the devastating loss of an adored daughter and sister, loss made all the more difficult to bear, surely, because of the hope that medicine had seemingly offered such a short time ago.
Those who know this family will not be surprised that they are indeed drawing from the deep well of fortitude that has brought them this far, and are refusing to bow to the terrible news that they had hoped they would never hear.
All anyone else can do now is show them that they are loved by helping Georgia fulfil her final wishes, and preparing to support her family into the future. This would also be a good time for those of us who have never faced such a trial to count our blessings.
Sunday was the day when we were officially supposed to do that as we celebrated Father's Day.
As usual, amongst the relatively minor display of commercial opportunism (minor at least in comparison with Mother's Day), various luminaries mused on what they had received from their fathers, and the relationships some were fortunate enough to continue enjoying with them.
They spoke and wrote of what their fathers had given them, the foundations their fathers had laid to assist them in becoming the people they were now.
It was good for some, perhaps, to read that they were not alone in being assessed by their children as what one described as a "grumpy bugger," but, sadly, it seemed that some had only gained true, deep appreciation of the gifts of their fathers long after childhood had ended. And for some that appreciation had come too late to be acknowledged.
Fatherhood is perhaps easier for some than others, but it is a God-given role in life that, at its best, offers a small hint of immortality.
A father can look upon his children and grandchildren as a continuation of himself, a small contribution to life in decades, if not centuries to come, that contribution hopefully being a positive one.
The great tragedy for a many is that the opportunity to make the most of the special relationship between father and child is snatched away, or worse, wasted.
None of us know with any certainty what life holds for us and those who brought us into this world. Perhaps too few of us make the most of the opportunities we are given to show our appreciation for the efforts and sacrifices made by those who do more than anyone else to shape us into the people we become.
What we inherit from our fathers, more than mothers, one suspects, is often under-valued or not recognised at all, at least not until it is too late.
Perhaps that is changing. Perhaps it is only the Baby Boomers, and those, few now as they are, who preceded them, who tended to grow up in families where Dad was a somewhat distant influence, far from the hands-on parent that fathers are expected to be these days.
There can be few greater causes of sadness and regret than knowing that the opportunity to nurture the relationship between father and child has been lost and can never be retrieved.
The tragedy for Georgia Buckingham and her family is that a young life is coming to an end decades before it should.
The tragedy for others is that the relationships that should be enjoyed and built upon over much longer lives are never fully realised; that children become and remain so engrossed in their own small worlds that they never learn, until it is too late, to appreciate what has been done for them by those who will love them the most, those who too often are never properly thanked or appreciated in return.
If one infinitesimal speck of gratitude has been earned by the awful disease that Georgia has fought so bravely it is that it has given her, her parents, sister and brother the chance to display what a remarkable family they are.
Georgia Buckingham is a very special girl, a girl who has made an indelible mark on her community of friends, who will long be admired and remembered for the qualities she continues to display in the course of a trial wrought by a random act of cruelty that is beyond comprehension for those who have not shared her experience, and, God willing, never will.
Georgia, now making the most of the little time that is left to her, is well aware that she is surrounded by love. She has spent her life earning that affection, but others who are equally deserving may not be receiving it. Some never will. Think of them, appreciate them now, while you can. Leave them in no doubt that what they have given you is precious and valued. Don't wait until a tomorrow that might never come.
Get your problems and challenges in perspective, and give thanks to those who have bestowed in you the wherewithal to face and beat them, those who have made you what you are, and who have done their best to set you on a path that gives you all the opportunities that life provides.
Forgive them if they might have done better; accept that they did their best, and know that to those who brought you into the world you will always be special. One day it will be too late to do that.
Charles Goodyear said 'A man has cause for regret only when he sows and no one reaps'.
Whatever our lot in life, however kindly or cruelly it treats us, we are here because someone has sown. Be grateful to those who have given you the chance to reap. And exult in the harvest.
