“Mum had always been fiercely independent but it just seemed easier to move in with her when the pandemic hit and I was made redundant. Like so many others, her illness went undetected until it was too late.  

“There was no doubt in my mind that I would care for her at home. That’s where she wanted to be. 

“The hardest thing was getting information from the hospital. The right people were never available. Then I would suddenly get a call at night. It’s so hard to think of the right questions to ask on the spot. I started to keep a pen and paper on me and whenever I thought of a question I’d make a note of it – even at 2am. It meant when I did get a call I had my questions ready. 

“One of the mistakes I made was trying to guess all mum’s needs for when she came home. I wanted to be organised. Naively, I installed a stair lift, not realising she’d never walk again. I also ordered things in bulk such as incontinence pads, again, not realising she’d come home with a catheter. I wasted thousands of pounds that I could ill afford. 

“I wasn’t prepared for the hospital bed that was installed downstairs. It was huge – it literally took up the whole room. The house was like a junk shop with furniture piled up in heaps in the corners. This bed became the focus. I turned it round to face the garden so mum could see the birds and life outside, and I placed her dog on the bed so she could stroke him. 

“When mum first came home she was conscious and could speak a little. However, as the pain increased so did the pain medication, meaning mum became less responsive and I started to lose her. I wish I’d taken advantage of those few precious days, not realising time wasn’t on our side. Once she lost consciousness I still talked to her – hearing is the last sense to go.  

“Another mistake I made was not having anything in place for when mum died. She never liked discussing her death. I’d always respected her wishes and didn’t raise the subject. So when mum died there was nothing in place. I had to phone a 24-hour number and arrange a direct cremation. This was the last thing I felt like doing at a time like that. 

“Every death is different. I was with her when it happened. She just gave two very small breaths and then a quiet sigh – that was it, very peaceful. The one thing that stays with me is how when the district nurse came to pronounce mum dead, she spoke to mum as if she were still alive, explaining what she was going to do. The two people from the local funeral directors did the same. They showed so much care, empathy and consideration. That really touched me. 

“The worst thing was being left with that horrible bed. I was told they couldn’t collect it for over a week. It was such an upsetting reminder. Out of desperation I asked a friend to dismantle it just to get it out of sight. 

“After mum’s death I received a phone call from the doctor offering a counselling service, which I declined. She wanted to know if I had people around me (I didn’t). She told me I ought to. I didn’t want to talk to a stranger about how I feel. We all deal with grief differently. It’s important to work through it in your own way – not in the way that people think you should.”