here was snow outside, we’d opened our presents, pulled our crackers and we were sitting at a table laden with all the trimmings, wearing silly paper hats. In many ways, it seemed like the perfect
family Christmas. But despite the smiles, there was an underlying sadness none of us wanted to talk about on that special day in 2009. Just two months earlier, my dad Bob, then 75, had been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer too advanced to be treated. We
After losing his wife
Doreen (left), Bob cherished the time spent with the rest of his family
My father got
all knew this would be his final Christmas, and we were determined to make it a truly happy occasion. It became apparent something was wrong with Dad’s health a week after my daughter Lisa had her first baby, Joseph, that October. We took him to see Dad, who lived in a sheltered accommodation flat five minutes from me. When we arrived, I knew something was badly wrong because his skin was yellow. I called the doctor and he was admitted to hospital that night for tests. A few days later, Dad rang and told me, matter-of-factly, that it was cancer. The doctors didn’t say exactly how long he had left, but we were told it was only likely to be weeks. I was absolutely devastated because Dad and I were really close and I couldn’t bear to think of life without him. Dad had been looking forward
to spending time with his great-grandson, but Joseph would grow up with only our memories of him. And having raised Lisa and my other daughter, Laura, on my own,