“I brought my daughter into the world… and I held her hand as she left it.”
That simple, devastating truth describes the most heartbreaking chapter of my life.
When my daughter, Dame Deborah James, took her final breath, I felt two emotions collide at once — a profound, unbearable sadness and a quiet relief that her long, exhausting battle was finally over. My beautiful girl, a spark of color and energy in every room she ever entered, had fought harder than anyone I’ve ever known.
It has been nearly two years since that day, yet time moves forward as if nothing happened — even though everything changed for us. I am still a mother of three, and I always will be. But now, my heart holds tight to Deborah’s legacy: her children, Hugo and Eloise, who lost their extraordinary mother far too soon. No hug or card can ease that kind of loss… all I can do is love them fiercely, as she asked me to.
Deborah was only 40 when she passed — far younger than anyone ever imagines when thinking about loss. From childhood, she had been a whirlwind of curiosity, ambition, and determination. So when she received a life-changing diagnosis at 35, she chose action over fear. Instead of withdrawing, she turned her experience into purpose.
She wrote openly.
She spoke loudly.
She educated fearlessly.
And she helped countless people pay attention to their health.
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