As some of you know I tend to leave things to the last minute and this was no different. I was sat on my bed last night trying to think of what words to say and I realised how difficult it is to summarise a life that meant so much to so many and achieved more in fifty years than most would achieve in a hundred. When Mum was diagnosed I found comfort in the words of Joost Van Der Westhuisen, the ex-Springbok, scrum half, who tragically is also suffering from Motor Neurone Disease. A few years ago he said “There are two things we as humans take for granted. They are health and time. When you have Motor Neurone Disease you get told you have none left.” Words I initially agreed with. But I can honestly say my Mum never took either for granted. She was very much a ‘now’ person, a person who lived in the moment. If she wanted to go somewhere or do something she’d do it. She was never one to waste time or put up with things that weren’t up to her incredibly high standards. There were times of course when I didn’t meet those high standards. My A-level results for example when I didn’t meet Newcastle University’s standards either. My Mum burst into my room at 6am telling me to ring the course director up there who she’d sent me up to meet 8 months earlier and ask if they could let me in anyway. I owe my University education to my Mum’s knowledge of the importance of knowing the right people and building relationships. My Mum was my inspiration. I learnt that if you work hard, aim high and build relationships along the way you will always be successful. She showed me what true kindness, determination and love were. She also taught me that for life to be rewarding, it has to be challenging. I know that if I don’t push myself to fulfil my potential I won’t stand to achieve or experience half as much as she did. It’s so sad to say goodbye to someone who enjoyed life as much as she did and it’s heartbreaking to say goodbye to your Mum. But she will forever be with me. There will always be that voice in my head. That reassuring, encouraging voice that I still can’t believe is gone. I love you, Mum. Rest in Peace.