Olivia’s story

I’m Olivia (Liv), currently aged 31 and I lost my Mum in 2020. I was 26 when my Mum passed away, following a short illness. I was a few years into my teaching career (I teach History in a Secondary school).

My now husband and I had just purchased our first home together close to Mum and Dads house as we thought we may go and teach abroad in the near future and Mum and Dad would look over the house for us (this all changed with Mums diagnosis).

My Mum Michelle AKA Momma V was diagnosed with cancer in early February 2020. She was 62 years old, full of life, helping me and my now husband move into our first home and working as a practice manager in a busy university health centre. Mum genuinely lit up a room when she entered it. She was the most caring person, but also would not stand for any nonsense. 

She was the Mum that everyone knew, and felt welcomed in her home. 

She had slowly shown symptoms of her illness since late 2019, but upon her diagnosis we were informed that the cancer had actually been found on a scan in 2016, but no one in our local hospital had passed this on to the relevant teams.

By the time of mums diagnosis her initial lung cancer had metastasized throughout her body, and Doctors hoped that she would have 2 years at best but did say they could not believe the woman sat in front of them was the same person that these scans belonged to because she was so strong and full of life.

Mums treatment was slow to begin with, which was only further hindered when the national lockdowns began in March 2020. I was able to attend Mums first chemotherapy session with her, however she faced the remainder of her treatment alone. Mum was able to be at home throughout this time, but did have a couple of weeks in hospital in March and May due to the side effects of her chemotherapy. Unfortunately in mid May, Mum took a really bad turn at home and we were asked to take her up to our local cancer hospital.

She stayed here alone everyday for exactly 4 weeks. We were unable to video call often due to poor internet connection on Mums ward.

She was also not allowed clean clothes or underwear throughout this time, so had to wash the items she’d taken for a stay of a few days in the sink at the hospital, and dry them at the end of her hospital bed.

On the 12th June 2020, my Dad and I were called up to the hospital as Mum had developed pneumonia and they feared she did not have long to live. When we received the call we were dumbfounded as we were expecting a call about oxygen and other supplies being delivered so that Mum could come home. Myself and Dad rushed up to see Mum, she had rallied around and was telling her nurses that she was not dying today! We were told that we could stay overnight as she was in a room on her own, and we could finally take her some fresh supplies. We decided that I would just stay with Mum and have a girly pamper evening with her. 

When I returned a couple of hours later, Mum had declined again. I called Dad to come back up, but it was too late and Mum died peacefully with me by her side. It was so difficult because the end came so quickly. 

In May 2022, we also got justice for Mum when an inquest ruled that her death had been caused by negligence, due to the lack of a further scan and consultation in 2016. 

At the time I felt such a mixture of emotions. In the immediate aftermath I felt that I would never stop crying, but then took on the role that I must be strong for Dad and those around us and rallied and pushed so much down.

I also felt really angry. It was a time when we had been separated from Mum and news began to emerge of the government breaking their own lockdown rules and some of the dates of ‘party-gate’ coincided with the dates that Mum was alone in hospital. Anger became the main feeling of my grief. Within the first year I had been so strong that a number of people said they thought I wouldn’t fall apart now, and had done this to honour my Mum (this ended up being very wrong).

I was diagnosed with PTSD in 2024, 4 years after Mum passed away. One of the things that I dealt with whilst processing this is that comparison served no purpose in my grief.

I would compare myself to other grievers who were not bereaved during Covid, and therefore had family around when their loved one died and at the funeral (unlike us). I would also compare myself to my friends as a woman in my late 20s and early 30s and feel sick as I watched my friends with their Mums on their hen dos, at their weddings, baby showers and looking after their children - these were all experiences that my Mum and I would never share. But I could continue to compare and hurt, or I could lean in and be involved with my friends (like Mum and I would have been before) and this enriched my life. 

Mum gave me one of the best quotes when I am struggling. To paraphrase, it is irrelevant that we had less time together than other mothers and daughters because we crammed so much into the time that we had, and filled each moment with love and joy.

I also ask myself most days (and now have a bracelet to remind me) WWMD - what would Michelle do?! 

I have so many memories I could choose with my Mum, lots are on holidays.

Our final holiday was visiting my godparents in Thailand, and me and my Mum sat in the back of the pick up, laughing hysterically as they struggled to get up through the mountains. We often spent weekends visiting London, going around exhibits in the museum and shopping, we had a lovely weekend doing this the summer before Mum passed away. Any day with Mum was fun, whether it was travelling or sat having a girly night watching chick flicks and sex and the city.