Sadly early yesterday morning Gillian died - she was at peace, with Julian at her bedside, in the St Francis Hospice. Just 6 days after her 65th birthday - and less than three weeks after the aggressive cancer was diagnosed.
It is still hard to take in - so suddenly the bright, cheerful, young-at-heart woman, who was like a sister, to me has gone. I'm staying in Romford with my aunt for a few days, to help Julian with all the necessary arrangements.
I'm trying to focus on the good memories, silly childhood games, giggling teenagers, over-tired young Mums, shared holidays, Christmas family get-togethers.
I'm typing this at midnight, sitting on a mattress in my aunt's spare bedroom - which is a boxroom, full of odd bits and pieces, electric fans only used in the summer, rolls of Christmas wrapping paper, an old eiderdown, random electrical bits and spare kitchen gadgets - and an absurd "Elf on the Shelf" lying drunkenly on top of a stack of boxes. Gill despaired of ever getting her Mum's stuff sorted out. "When I retire..." she'd say "... perhaps... " But that will never happen now.
If I close my eyes I can imagine Gill's grin, hear her laugh, teasing me in her strong Essex accent "Oh Ang..." I know she wouldn't want us to be paralysed by grief, she said that quite firmly when she instructed us in her carefully thought out funeral plans. She knew these days would be difficult for her son and her Mum - and in the short time she had to prepare herself for dying, she did all she could to help them through.
She brought magic and sparkle into so many situations throughout her life, and she will be greatly missed, by family, friends and colleagues. We were blessed to have known her, grateful for the love and joy she dispensed with such generous enthusiasm.
God bless you Gill - Rest in peace, and rise in glory.
