We lost our Mum to uterine cancer 5 and a half years ago. It was, by miles, the most painful experience of all our lives - including hers. She desperately wanted to live, to see her children marry their loves, to meet her grandchildren, to continue building her own life full of love and joy, so much joy. Her enemy was death and she fought it hard.

I can’t imagine what people think of when they hear the word Hospice. Maybe somewhere dark with faded floral curtains and very sad looking people present. 2 days before Mum died the hospital team looking after her finally concluded that they could not get on top of her symptoms and that she needed expert palliative care input. We were terrified, it was becoming more and more clear that the time we had with our Mum was slipping through our fingers.

Mum’s bedroom at the Hospice was full of light when we arrived, big patio doors leading to a small courtyard garden. The doors were shut because it had just started raining. Mum asked where we were.

Lydia softly spoke “We’re at the Hospice, Mum”

Our Mum sighed “oh, how disappointing”

I remember holding Lydia’s gaze, both of us looking like we had just been winded by a blow to the stomach. That odd mix of nausea, pain and not being able to breathe. We grappled with the dead air, opening and shutting our mouths - the Doctor rescued us with an explanation of why being at the Hospice wasn’t a bad thing. She didn’t mention death or dying, she didn’t have to. We could feel it moving closer and with that one comment Mum herself let slip that she could feel it too.

A few moments later and we were in a film or a dream sequence, something like that. The rain came like a warning. We paused to comment, in a very British way, on our surprise at the poor weather but before we were able to collect our British thoughts we heard some of the last words we remember hearing from our sweet Mum.

“I love the sound of rain.”

How these 6 words have comforted me through the relentless storm of grief. Everything seemed to stop in that moment. The patio doors were opened and the hammering rain and our Mother’s breathing was all we could hear.

We are all so grateful for the goodbye we were able to give Mum with the guidance, expertise and reassurance of the Hospice team. If death has to be a thing then we want everyone to be able to die in the same dignified way our Mum did.

Did you know the government doesn’t see Hospice care as a National Health requirement? Only providing an average of 30% of the costs of running a UK Hospice. Most only getting a mere 12-15%. They rely on fundraising in order to provide the good goodbye we experienced - Your money may not save a life but it will save many people from dying alone or in distress.

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