What a tragedy. With heavy hearts, we announce the passing
Deborah’s legacy extends far beyond her advocacy and the lives she saved. The greatest gift she gave us was her philosophy on life. She made the most of every day and found joy in the smallest things, a trait she passed on to her children. She urged them to live fully, saying, “You never know when life will end, so enjoy every moment.” This is a mantra I strive to remember and live by.
Deborah often scolded me for saving special things for holidays and high days. She was the exact opposite, wearing her favorite dresses just because she felt like it. Since her passing, I’ve tried to adopt her brave and positive attitude. I dress up for no reason, wear sparkly earrings like she did, and try to savor each moment more. It makes me feel closer to her.
Deborah was told she probably wouldn’t survive the year when she was first diagnosed. The thought of losing her in a few months was incomprehensible. Yet, she defied the odds time and again, thanks to treatment and her inner strength. She endured multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and a plethora of strong drugs, never once giving up.
Our last Mother’s Day together in March 2022 is a day I will always cherish. Despite being very ill, Deborah insisted on coming to my house for lunch. I truly didn’t believe it would be our last together, as she always seemed to bounce back.
In May 2022, when doctors said there was nothing more they could do and that she had only days to live, Deborah left The Royal Marsden Hospital. My greatest fear became a reality. As her mother, I felt helpless, unable to alleviate her suffering.
Deborah moved in with us, and we spent seven precious weeks together. She organized movie nights and even hosted an impromptu engagement party for her brother Ben and his fiancée. Prince William himself came over for tea after Buckingham Palace announced she was to be made a dame. It was a time filled with love, sadness, and joy, a period I will always treasure.
Most nights, Deborah and I stayed up talking, unable to sleep, both fearing she might not wake up. We had deep conversations, and I assured her of her strength and promised to always be there for her children. It was like having my baby back; my dying daughter depended on me as she did when she was a child. Our bond grew stronger.
I held her hand as she passed away. After all she endured, I’m grateful her final moments were peaceful. The first year after her death, I was fueled by adrenaline, doing everything I could to support Deborah’s husband Seb and their children. Keeping busy helped me avoid confronting the depth of my grief.
As her death anniversary approached, I began experiencing severe panic attacks, unable to leave the house. The reality of my loss caught up with me, and I was both physically and mentally exhausted. Initially reluctant, I started taking antidepressants, but talking about Deborah and looking at pictures of her also brought comfort.
I felt a bit better at the beginning of this year. We celebrated Sarah’s 40th birthday last month, and in April, my son Ben is getting married. While we miss Deborah profoundly on these important days, we know she would want us to enjoy them for her.
Deborah’s spirit lives on in her family, especially her children, and in the work she did to raise awareness and funds for cancer research. Her legacy is a testament to her strength, courage, and unwavering love for life and her family.
