It was one of those moments that no parent ever thinks they’ll have to face, but somehow here I am – holding my daughter’s hand as she takes her last breath.
I never imagined that the day would come when I would have to say goodbye to the person who filled my world with so much love, energy, and laughter.
As the seconds ticked by, a wave of emotions washed over me: a mixture of sadness, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of relief that my beautiful girl was finally free from the pain that had consumed her for so long.
What does it mean to be a mother to a child who is no longer alive? That’s a question that haunts me every day, but today it’s even harder. Today I think of my grandchildren – Hugo and Eloise – who can navigate this world without the guidance of their incredible mother, Deborah. And I wonder how we got here? How did we reach this place of loss, grief, and somehow resilience?
“I brought my daughter into the world and took her from him.
I was relieved and sad at the same time as I held Deborah’s hand as she took her last breath. Both her suffering and my sweet girlish whirlwind were gone.
Being the mother of a deceased child is hard every day, but tomorrow is especially hard.
I will forever be a mother of three, despite the death of one of my children. Today, however, I am thinking of my 14 and 16-year-old granddaughters, Eloise and Hugo, who have lost their wonderful mother.
It is unacceptable for them to simply let her hug or send her a message or a gift.
All I can do today, as I have done every day for the past 21 months, is love and support them.
Dame Deborah James, my eldest daughter, died five and a half years after being diagnosed with bowel cancer. She was forty.
The fact that the world went on without her is still hard to accept. Even as a young child, she was a natural powerhouse.
Deborah, who was 35 and has two children, aged 7 and 9, was diagnosed in December 2016.
She was an active, healthy young woman who abstained from meat and tobacco. However, she experienced fatigue, bloody stools,, and weight loss.
It was quite upsetting to find out she had bowel cancer as it was originally thought to be stress or IBS.
However, I believed that he would recover soon after surgery and chemotherapy.
After several weeks and more tests, I was shocked to learn that the disease had progressed to stage four.
I wasn’t surprised by Deborah’s bravery and determination; she was just who she was.
In addition to managing her own illness, she wanted to help others.
She wanted to raise awareness about cancer, its symptoms, s and the importance of listening to your body.
“She wanted the world to be a better place for her children.”
Shortly after learning she had cancer, she began writing a column for The Sun and started the blog Bowelbabe.
She went on to co-host the popular You, Me and Big C podcast, discussing poo whenever she could, and working with The Sun to lower the NHS screening age.
The most important aspect of her life was her children. She wished to improve Hugo and Eloise’s situation. One day, she imagined, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting cancer.
This concept served as the basis for one of her biggest and newest initiatives, the Bowelbabe Fund.
She founded it in the last weeks of her life to fund cancer research and contribute to the development of new treatments for the disease.
She gave it her all because she knew her time was limited.
Yet Deborah’s impact goes far beyond the work she has done and the lives she has saved and continues to save.
Her life advice was the best gift she could give us all.
She made the most of every day and found joy in the little things, and I can see that in her children as well.
Both share her enthusiasm and enthusiasm.
The weekend before she died, she advised them to live a nice life.
She said: “You never know when life will end, so enjoy every moment.” I also try to keep this motto in mind.
I tend to procrastinate and save the biggest things for “holidays and rush hour”. Deborah is going to yell at me! On the contrary, she would wear her favorite outfits without any justification.
Since she died, I’ve tried to keep that brave, optimistic mindset.
I try to enjoy every moment more, I wear makeup for no apparent reason and now I wear beautiful earrings like her. I feel more connected to her.
“I hated that I couldn’t ease her pain.
When Deborah was initially diagnosed with colon cancer, she was told she probably wouldn’t survive the next year.
It was hard for me to understand. How I could lose my child in a few months is beyond me.
But with treatment and her own inner strength, Deborah repeatedly overcame obstacles.
She endured a lot, including radiotherapy, chemotherapy, a colonectomy, and numerous combinations of powerful drugs. She wasn’t going to give up.
Despite being really sick on our last Mother’s Day together in March 2022, Mother still planned to join me for lunch at my house.
I will remember that day forever. She always got better, so I honestly didn’t imagine this would be our last time together.
Deborah was told she only had days to live and there was nothing the doctors could do, so she left The Royal Marsden Hospital in May 2022. At that moment I had to face my greatest fear.
I felt powerless in my role as her mother. I felt terrible for not being able to ease her suffering.
So she came to live with us. It was a great time for all of us to spend seven weeks with her.
She organized movie nights and an impromptu engagement party for her 33-year-old brother Ben and his fiancée. Prince William even stopped by for tea after Buckingham Palace made her a dame.
It was a special time, full of love, sadness and joy. I will never forget it.
Deborah and I stayed up most nights because we both had trouble falling asleep. We were both afraid he wouldn’t wake up.
We had a long conversation. I assured her that she was resilient and pledged to support her children.
As a child, my dying daughter relied on me; it was like getting my baby back. Our affection for each other grew stronger as we were unable to stay apart.
I held her hand in mine as she died.
I’m relieved she passed away quietly after all she went through.
The first year after her death I was down. I did everything I could to support Deborah’s husband Seb (44) and their children.
I couldn’t fully deal with my grief, but I kept myself busy to distract myself from how awful things were.
I suffered terrible panic episodes that prevented me from leaving the house on the anniversary of her death.
I was exhausted, mentally and physically, and everything was catching up with me.
I was prescribed antidepressants, even though I didn’t want to take them at first. However, discussing Deborah and looking at her photos also makes me feel better.
At the beginning of this year, I felt better. Sarah turned 40 this month and my son Ben is getting married in April.
We know that Deborah would want us to enjoy these important days for her, even though we miss her so much.
Although Deborah is no longer with us, her legacy lives on through her work raising money and awareness, as well as through her family, especially her children.
Deborah’s journey was one of immense courage, strength, and unwavering determination to make a difference. Although her time with us was tragically cut short, her impact will be felt by generations to come. Her legacy is not just in the funds she raised, the awareness she brought to cancer, or the lives she touched, but also in the lessons she passed on to her family and all who knew her. Deborah lived with a passion for life, embracing every moment, no matter how fleeting, and encouraging others to do the same.
As her family moves forward, they carry with them the deep wisdom she shared – to cherish every moment, live life to the fullest, and continue their fight for a better world. However, she is no longer with them physically, her love, spirit, and tireless work live on in her children, her husband,, and in the hearts of all who continue her mission. Deborah may be gone, but her influence and the love she radiated will never fade.