23/11/2025
"My Dad, Mark" - Ava's 💛
"When I was 17 and my sister Florrie was just 13, our world changed completely. Our dad, Mark, was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer called Myeloma. He was only 46.
Dad had been a single parent for most of our lives. My mum struggled with alcoholism and borderline personality disorder, so from the age of seven, Dad was the one who raised us. He did everything — school runs, packed lunches, late-night talks — all while working as a graphic designer. He gave us the best life he could, and we were so close.
We used to live in Peterborough, but when Dad met his girlfriend Cate, we moved to Market Harborough. Even after they split up, she stayed in our lives and was there for us right through his illness.
In 2021, Dad started to feel constantly run down. He’d always been fit and active — he even boxed to keep in shape — so at first, we thought he just had COVID. But when the GP ran some blood tests, we got a call to come into the Royal Infirmary. That’s when we heard the diagnosis: Myeloma. Treatable, but not curable.
We were optimistic at first. Dad was strong and healthy, so we thought he’d have a good chance. But the cancer was aggressive, and even after a stem cell transplant, it came back within six months.
In 2022, I started university in Leeds, leaving Florrie at home at just 16. It was hard being away, knowing how much Dad was struggling. He tried a few clinical trials, but the Myeloma kept progressing. Dad always said he didn’t want to die at home or in a hospital, so we looked into other options and found out about LOROS, a hospice that felt peaceful and caring.
In February 2024, Dad caught COVID again and became really unwell — he had frequent nosebleeds and was getting confused. He was admitted to hospital but, being Dad, he discharged himself to go for a pint with his friends. The next day he was back in hospital, and he never came home again. At the time, we didn’t realise quite how close to the end he was, so we didn’t push to get him into LOROS sooner.
When he finally went there, he only had three days left — but those three days meant everything. The nurses were incredible, especially Tracey, who was so honest and kind. She told us gently that he didn’t have long and helped us make handprints with him. That honesty gave us the chance to say what we needed to say, and we really grateful for it.
Dad’s room at LOROS felt like a little Airbnb, not a hospital. It was peaceful and opened onto the gardens. We could stay close to him the whole time. It felt calm — almost normal — which was such a comfort.
Because Dad and I were so close, he’d already talked to me about what he wanted after he was gone. That made it a little easier to make decisions on his behalf.
After he passed, I still had a year left at uni. My aunt moved in to help with bills so I could finish my degree, and thanks to Dad’s planning, we were able to buy our own house in February 2025. Now I just cover the bills and work as a teaching assistant. One day, I’d love to work for a charity that supports young people. I’ve encouraged my sister to go to Uni too, and she’s enjoying it like I did.
University was a lifeline for me. It gave me space to breathe, and having my best friend Bonnie there helped so much. In addition I had my amazing house mates and tremendous support network of my home friends from Market Harborough who all pulled together for me and were there every step of the way, the bad and the good. They really made the difference.
Money was tight — Dad couldn’t support us anymore — so I worked through an agency alongside my studies. I had to grow up fast, but I think that’s what Dad prepared me for.
I had an amazing dad. If I’m dealing with his death now, it’s because he made me and my sister the people we are. Everything I am — everything Florrie and I have become — is because of him. He made sure we’d be okay, even after he was gone."
