“I lost my Mum to breast cancer when I was 19 years old. My memories from the time she had been diagnosed to her passing are a bit blurred in terms of timelines, but there are some really significant parts of this experience that have stuck with me. I was around 13 and my sister Lou was 15 when we got home from school one afternoon and there was no one around. There were 4 kids in total in our blended family and it seemed strange to be so quiet on this day. Mum had recently been in Adelaide for appointments and looked at both of us when we were home and said “I need to speak to you girls”. Then continued to say, “I’ve got breast cancer”. I looked at her and burst out laughing hysterically for 5 minutes. I thought it was a joke. That she was playing a joke on us. I soon realised that she was serious, and that hysterical laughing turned into hysterical crying. The 3 of us ended up crying all together trying to make sense of this.

Mum had a friend who was quite close to us growing up, who died at 29 years old after being sick with cancer. It was something that stuck with me a lot and hearing Mum had cancer, I guess we instantly went to that place in our minds that maybe that meant she would die too.

It seemed unbelievable and surreal. My mum was an active and sporty person. She was a state basketballer when she was 19. Her whole family were basketball fans. Our home was generally fun and playful. We spent a lot of time in the pool, playing 2 on 2 basketball in the backyard or having a hit of tennis against our carport wall. There was a lot of laughter and fun and many family-friend visits. Mum was very much a people person. Flirtatious by nature, she warmed to anyone and everyone.

After Mum was diagnosed, she had her treatment in Adelaide. We continued to go to school at Cummins while Min looked after us, along with Jade and Binge. She came and went during chemotherapy but stayed the whole-time in Adelaide during radiotherapy.

The next couple years were a blur but then mum seemed to get the all clear from the oncologists. From my recollection she had regular appointments for a few years and then one day found a lump in her neck. She went to the doctor and not long after, she received the news that she was riddled with cancer. It had spread to her bones and major organs throughout her body. This required another round of chemo and radiotherapy. Mum also looked into alternative medicines to help. I still remember clearly the carrot and beetroot juice cleanses, reiki treatments and maybe the most bizarre, shark cartilage tablets that were horrendous if you burped afterwards! She always gave us the impression that she had it all under control, that it wouldn’t be easy, but she was up for the fight.

Min and Mum had a surprise wedding the day before they got the results from the last lot of treatment. Initially I thought this was for some peace of mind for mum. But now I think this was more for us than for them. I think Mum knew within herself that it was not good news so decided to bring some joy to all of us amongst the sadness of finding out the treatment was not working, and that the cancer was continuing to grow and spread. At the beginning of the end, Mum was determined to stay at home and be looked after there. But I remember some weird things started happening. One night while visiting for tea she got up from the table and walked to her room. Soon we heard a really loud thump. I can’t remember who else was sitting at the table. But we knew she couldn’t get up. Min went up to the bedroom and then all we could hear was her crying because she couldn’t get herself off the floor. She had already lost feeling in her arms and now it had gone to her legs. We were all terrified. She was flown out by air ambulance the next morning and she was never able to use her legs again. I left the farm that night thinking her body was trying hard and just not coping. The cancer was attacking the nervous system and I didn’t realise at the time that this was death coming.

At the time, I was working causally at the Tumby Bay Pub and a friend of Mum’s from the Cummins Golf Club recognised me from the times I would drive Mum out for social visits with the ladies. She said to me, “I heard about your mum, what are you doing here?”. I replied, “I am only casual, and I don’t have enough money saved up to get over there right now”. This kind lady paid for my flights to get me to Adelaide to see Mum the next day. A gesture to this day that I have never forgotten. The kindness she showed me in that moment was life changing. I had not ever had someone give so selflessly, expecting nothing in return. Just to help me get to my Mum so we could be together in such a difficult time.

Mum was in immense pain and had no strength in her arms and legs. We found out in April 1999 that it was terminal. My sister Louise is a nurse and was doing her Grad program in Adelaide and at the time, she moved back to be Mum’s carer so she could stay at home. A place she loved to be with her new kitchen and beautiful rose garden. But it soon became apparent that Mum would need round the clock care. She also became frightened about being at home, and the impact that caring for her would have on Loui, Min and my grandparents after she was gone. The ambulance transferred her to the Cummins Hospital, and sadly she never came out.

My grandparents came and lived at the farm during this time, from Mount Gambier. Louise, Min, Nanna and Grandpa were at the hospital every day. Min was still farming at this time, so I guess he came in between working and I would pop in daily on my work breaks with an almond Magnum for Mum and some funny pub story to entertain them all.

Due to the pain, she was heavily medicated and slept a lot. At this point I still didn’t think she was going to die. I knew it, but I didn’t believe it. Mum had a way of hiding from me how bad it really was the whole way through her cancer journey. I never went to any doctor’s appointments. I think that was her way of protecting us.

In August 1999 I received a phone call that changed my life. “You need to come to the hospital now, it’s happening”. I rang my work, sobbing uncontrollably to let them know. I could not speak when my boss picked up, I was just crying and I remember him saying, “Em is that you, oh Em I am so sorry. Go do what you need to do and let us know you're okay”. And then I drove myself the 40 minutes to the Cummins Hospital.

When I arrived, she looked up and asked everyone except for Lou and I to leave the room. “I want to talk to my girls”, when it was just the three of us, she said “I thinking I’m dying...I can hold on if you’re not ready but I’m really tired...I can hold on if you’re not ready. I will try”. Lou and I both looked at mum and said, “if you're ready it’s ok, we will be ok.” Mum was scared. I remember sitting on the end of her bed. I felt broken, lost and completely afraid. As I sat there rubbing her legs I was overcome with emotion. We both said we will be ok. We would be fine. She came to the sudden realisation about her impending death and sadly so did I.

To me, Lou seemed to handle the situation better than me at the time. Given her nursing experience I guess she knew there was a small window of time to ask more practical questions. It was important to Lou that we all knew what mum wanted at her funeral and to honour her wishes. I just had no words, only tears. I am grateful to Lou for recognising the importance of understanding what Mum would want after she had passed. The pain was becoming unbearable and so the morphine was increased. The next day friends were invited to say goodbye as she hadn’t had many visitors apart from family during this time. This was a beautiful day for Mum full of all her favourite people.

The few months after the funeral were very dark for me. I felt sad all the time. I kept thinking how unfair this was. Why did my mum have to die so young? So many other people have had cancer and survived. Losing a parent is hard. Being 19 and losing my mum was so hard. Parents love you unconditionally. You can be dramatic, rude, out of control and they still love you. They guide you, teach you, be your sounding board. Whatever mistakes you make it doesn’t matter; they still love you. I lost that and I grieve that. When I was 19, I didn’t know anyone my age who had experienced losing a parent. All my friends were partying and drinking. I was too, pretending to be ok, but I wasn’t. I thought the sadness would be there forever. I had great support, but I still felt very alone - like I was the only person in the room feeling like this. I found grief very isolating and a very personal experience. I didn’t know how to do it with other people. I still don’t know how to now. I find it hard to grieve openly.

One of the things I think I found the hardest about losing my mum was that sense of home. I always felt at home on the farm. When Min sold the farm that sense of home was a bit lost for me. And the questions. Questions about every day and random things that you can only ask a mum without feeling stupid. Like, what temperature do you cook a roast? And for how long?! There were so many young adult / mum moments I missed out on.

I find it triggering when people treat their mums poorly because I haven’t had my mum around for so long and I would give anything to have her back. And Mother’s Day, this day is always tough for me. I miss my mum immensely but Denise, my mother-in-law is the next best thing. I am really very lucky to have her in my life. The beautiful part about this, is that I have known Denise my whole life. And Braden knew and remembered my mum too, so I didn’t have to explain her to them. Denise has become a very important person to me.

Mum was 44 years old when she died. The age I will turn at the end of this year. I have started having thoughts about how mum would have felt at this age knowing she was going to die. I still feel so young.

I have an 11, 10 and 5-year-old. I can’t imagine dying at this age. I feel so sad when I think about it. It makes you question your own mortality and what that means for your family and the people around you. Would Bess, my 5-year-old, even remember me?

It's been 24 years now. I have lived longer without my mum now than I did with her. I mostly feel like I am going ok but every now and then, moments catch me off guard and mum’s absence sneaks up on me. Mostly when I least expect it and my eyes start leaking a little bit.

Losing mum is one of many life changing experiences I have had. A few years after Mum died, I lost a boyfriend in a tragic accident, and I have had friends pass away unexpectedly. They have all been really tough times experiencing grief, and at times I did not know if I would get through. But I’m proud to say I got through and it is because of these experiences I choose to work in the space I do trying to support, comfort and care for people in our community during difficult times."