Faye Smith, 57, found solace in walking after her daughter passed away, and now she’s helping others do the same
My daughter Gabi, waited by the front door, wrapped up in her hat and scarf. “Come on,” she said, hurrying me along. We were heading out for a country walk near our home in Derbyshire. As a single mum, life was hectic but I always made time to walk with Gabi and her older brother Zach. Gabi adored nature, but despite her smiles she’d been through a lot. Her dad had taken his own life when she was just 10 and it had hit our entire family extremely hard.
Around a year after her father’s death, Gabi and I were in the car when she suddenly collapsed forward. Her lips had turned blue and her eyes were rolling back. “Gabi!” I cried, bringing the car to a halt. Apassing student called an ambulance, which rushed her to hospital.
After tests, doctors diagnosed her with non-epileptic attack disorder (NEAD), a rare condition that causes seizures. They believed it had been triggered by the trauma of her dad’s death. “There’s no reason she can’t do things by herself,” the doctor explained. “But there’s no cure.” It was frightening, but thankfully Gabi responded well to bereavement therapy and when she hadn’t had a seizure for a year, her neurologist gave her the all-clear.
Soon after, I took both her and Zach on a six-mile hike along the Monsal Trail in Derbyshire, from Ashford-in the-Water to Bakewell. It was one of Gabi’s favourite walks, and always involved sampling some Bakewell tart, spotting llamas and enjoying a hot chocolate along the way. Gabi looked so happy, it was a great day.
Six days later, the anniversary of their dad’s death arrived. Gabi had a friend staying, but as Zach and I sat chatting, she came in and said, “Gabi went for a bath, but she’s been a long time.” Immediately, my mother’s instinct kicked in. I ran and knocked on the bathroom door. “Gabi, I need you to answer me, darling,” I called. When there was no response, I kicked the lock off the door with a strength I never knew I had.
There I saw Gabi in the bath, her face below the water line. “Call an ambulance!” I screamed to Zach, as I hauled her out of the water and tried desperately to revive her. Paramedics soon arrived and rushed her to Sheffield Children’s Hospital, where I watched as a team of medics worked on her. But eventually a doctor said, “I’m so sorry, she’s gone.” At just 12 years old –exactly two years after losing her dad –I’d lost my little girl.
In a haze of grief, we buried my beautiful daughter. An inquest heard Gabi had previously suffered a violent seizure and that such seizures could lead to blacking out. The coroner was told Gabi had been given the all-clear to do t
