Real lives
I was in the depths of grief when an unexpected visitor had a message...
We closed the campervan doors and set off on our adventure. My husband Shaun, our son Sam, 10, and I were travelling around Europe.
We wanted to enjoy every moment, but there was a devastating reason why.
Sam was just three years old when he’d been diagnosed with Duchenne muscular dystrophy, a muscle-wasting condition.
We were told it was unlikely he’d reach his 20th birthday. And now, he’d lost the ability to walk and used a wheelchair. But Sam had an amazing time on our trip. He was cheeky, kind and very caring. He always bought me gifts.
‘You’re my soul mate,’ I’d tell him.
In time, Sam started to go to Naomi House & Jacksplace Hospice for respite, and they were so helpful.
Years passed and Sam’s condition worsened.
After more tests, a consultant took us to a private room.
‘Sam is dying,’ she said.
I can’t tell him this, is all I kept thinking. He was only 16. We brought Sam back home to Southampton, Hampshire, with an oxygen tank. Family and friends came to say goodbye. ‘I don’t want to die,’ Sam said. I swallowed hard. ‘See that wheelchair?’ I told him. ‘It’s staying here. You go and run, be free. Wait for me when my time comes.’
His breathing became more shallow. And the next day, we were by his bed when Sam died in his sleep. My baby was gone. The doctor came in and as I left the room, I heard a voice call out: ‘Mum.’ I spun around. ‘Did you hear that?’ I said to Shaun. ‘No,’ he replied. I put it down to shock.
We had a coffin made to look like a campervan. It was beautiful.
But
