IT was the end of February and we had just visited Edinburgh and the Trossachs National Park as a family to celebrate my wife Cecilia's 52nd birthday.
As we scaled the majestic Ben Venue and looked down on Loch Achray, we had no idea that our lives were about to change beyond all recognition.
Spring arrived and Cecilia was absolutely determined to create and grow a vegetable patch in our garden.
One week towards the end of March, we spent the day preparing the ground to plant an array of seeds that would hopefully produce a bumper crop of tomatoes, courgettes, peppers and carrots.
After a hard day’s solid graft, we came in ready to chill out for the evening.
I vividly remember Cecilia telling me that she had a strange tingling sensation in her left wrist. We put it down to a thorn or a nettle.
A few days later, the tingling sensation began to spread up Cecilia’s arm.
Unable to get a face to face doctor’s appointment, we were told that Cecilia’s symptoms sounded like she had carpal tunnel syndrome (CTS).
At the time, this actually made sense with Cecilia experiencing “a tingling feeling or pins and needles, numbness, and sometimes pain in the hand”, as the definition suggests.
A session was booked for April 12 with an NHS physiotherapist, who told Cecilia that she urgently needed to be seen by a neurologist because her left arm had weakened and the feeling had extended to her left leg.
It no longer felt like CTS was an option.
On April 14, we woke up and Cecilia was physically unable to get out of bed.
I immediately called for an ambulance. The paramedics arrived and began to ask a series of questions about Cecilia’s symptoms.
They wanted to know if Cecilia had previously had a scan. The answer was ‘no’ and they recommended Cecilia should be taken straight to East Surrey Hospital, where CT and MRI scans were carried out.
The curtain was pulled round to offer some privacy on the A&E ward and we were told that the scans had revealed an abnormal growth on the brain that would require further investigation.
You search what this means on Google and begin to fear the worst.
Two weeks later we booked an appointment at the neurological department at St George’s Hospital in South London.
It was there that we were told that Cecilia had an aggressive, incurable brain tumour.
With treatment, her life expectancy would be 12 to 18 months.
Cecilia burst into tears and I just froze, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what we had just been told.
Nothing can prepare you for hearing this devastating news – the feeling of complete and utter helplessness.
Over the course of six weeks, Cecilia had gone from being perfectly fit and healthy to being unable to walk, wash or dress herself
Mark Smith
We hardly spoke on the way back home, the overwhelming feeling was numbness.
Surely this kind of thing only happens to other people?
Imagine breaking the news to your children (at the time Ameila was 18 years old and Arthur had just turned 14) that their mum was going to die and that there was literally nothing that we could do to prevent that from happening.
Over the course of six weeks, Cecilia had gone from being perfectly fit and healthy to being unable to walk, wash or dress herself. She was a shell of her former self.
It was heartbreaking to see Cecilia - a strong willed, independent woman - look so fragile and vulnerable.
Cecilia told me that she really missed the little things in life, like being able to walk the dog and to make her own lunch.
Most of all, she missed being a partner and a mum – running the kids around, helping and caring for them.
I remember one day, Cecilia went to take Amelia to the train station and she didn’t even make it to the end of the driveway because she was physically unable to drive anymore.
It was soul destroying and I could see it in Cecilia's eyes - the pain and anguish that everything she held dear was slowly but surely being taken away from her.
Cecilia was booked in for a biopsy at St George’s on May 10, which we hoped would determine a course of treatment that could potentially make her life more bearable.
The weekend before, we made sure to focus on doing the things that we loved and enjoyed doing as a family.
I still remember seeing the joy on Cecilia’s face that weekend because, despite her inability to move, we were trying desperately hard to live a normal life.
We went for a lovely dog walk in the sunshine (Cecilia was on a motorised scooter at this stage), we went to the cinema to see Guardians of the Galaxy 3 (we had to assist Cecilia to get from the car to her seat in the front row), and on the Sunday evening we made our own pizzas.
It was difficult for Cecilia, but she was just about able to put her favourite toppings on the pizza base with her right hand.
I remember vividly that she chose prawns, tuna and mushrooms. Sadly, this would be the last pizza that Cecilia would ever eat.
On May 9, the day before Cecilia’s biopsy, I remember waving goodbye to the kids at the front door and looking at my wife.
She was crying and I didn’t realise it at the time, but she knew that this would be the last time that she ever saw her children.
Sadly, Cecilia never made it to the operating theatre. She suffered a brain haemorrhage at the hospital and I was informed by her surgeon that he had two choices – to try to remove the brain tumour, which would have a long term impact on Cecilia’s quality of life, or “make her comfortable”.
I asked what that meant and was told that Cecilia had just hours to live.
It was at that point that I called a close friend and I asked if she could bring the kids up to the hospital, to give them the opportunity to say goodbye to their mum.
I had to ask my friend not to say anything to the children about the seriousness of the situation in the car because I wanted to deliver that news to them myself.
It was the worst moment of my life, having to tell the children that their mum was going to die and that she was unlikely to make it through the night.
How do you cope or respond to hearing news like that?
Less than three months before, Cecilia was walking up mountains in the Highlands of Scotland.
At the end of March, she felt a tingling sensation in her hand; by the end of April, she had lost mobility on her left hand side and she had been formally diagnosed with an incurable, life threatening brain tumour; by mid-May, she suffered a brain haemorrhage that ultimately took her life.
As a family, we had absolutely no time to process or come to terms with what happened to Cecilia.
I held her hand and whispered in her ear that it was 'okay to go', to end the pain and the suffering
Mark Smith
We were told that even though Cecilia was in a coma, she would still be able to hear everything that we were saying to her.
We stayed in a private room with her for the next few hours, sharing our lovely memories of happy times with her and we actually managed a few laughs.
I really hope that she was able to feel the love in the room for her.
At 11am, the kids said their goodbyes to their mum and went to stay in a nearby hotel.
I told them that I would call them as soon as there was any change in their mum’s condition.
The nurses brought in an extra bed for me and I lay by Cecilia’s side for that final night.
At 7.30am on the morning of May 11, the attending nurse told me that Cecilia was still fighting.
I held her hand and whispered in her ear that it was “okay to go”, to end the pain and the suffering.
I assured her that I would do everything in my power to look after the kids, to bring them up the way that she would want them to be brought up – to be kind, caring and to simply embrace life.
It was at that point that Cecilia took her very last breath. That moment will stay with me forever.
You never expect to lose your partner to a brain tumour. You never expect to have to arrange your 52-year-old partner’s funeral. You never expect to be a single parent and to be a widow in your 50s.
We are now having to adjust to life and create a new set of happy memories as a three.
Despite being surrounded and supported by amazing family and friends, I have never felt so alone.
Cecilia was my best friend and my rock and she is no longer with us.
I often wake up in the morning, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.
When Cecilia was here, I would just lie in bed, reach out and hold her hand. At that moment, the world would feel a better place.
I recently heard the following line about grief which sums up perfectly how I have felt about the loss of Cecilia: I don’t miss doing things with Cecilia. I simply miss doing nothing with Cecilia.
Our anniversary was always a very precious one to both of us, mainly because we made sure to spend the time together and to celebrate our relationship in style.
December 3 was the one day in the year that we could take time out from our hectic lives to demonstrate our love for each other.
It saddens me that I will never be able to share another anniversary with Cecilia.
I'll miss surprising her with a trip away and her smiley face when she realises where we we're going.
I have spent the last 10 months trying to be both a dad and a mum to the kids and it has highlighted the huge and significant part that Cecilia played in all our lives and how much we miss her.
More than 12,000 Brits are diagnosed with a primary brain tumour every year — of which around half are cancerous — with 5,300 losing their lives.
The disease is the most deadly cancer in children and adults aged under 40, according to the Brain Tumour Charity.
Brain tumours reduce life expectancies by an average of 27 years, with just 12 per cent of adults surviving five years after diagnosis.
There are two main types, with non-cancerous benign tumours growing more slowly and being less likely to return after treatment.
Cancerous malignant brain tumours can either start in the brain or spread there from elsewhere in the body, and are more likely to return.
Brain tumours can cause headaches, seizures, nausea, vomiting and memory problems, according to the NHS.
They can also lead to changes in personality weakness or paralysis on one side of the problem and problems with speech or vision.
The nine most common symptoms are:
If you are suffering any of these symptoms, particularly a headache that feels different from ones you normally get, you should visit your GP.
Source: NHS
My advice to anyone going through a similar experience, would be to go with your gut instinct and to listen to what your partner is telling you.
Cecilia knew her own body and recognised from a very early stage that something was seriously wrong.
After my daughter took part in the Cancer Research UK Shine Night Walk (she bravely completed 26 miles in nine and a half hours) with her friends and raised more than £10,000 for charity, I felt inspired to embark on my own challenge - raising awareness and vital funds for the Brain Tumour Charity, an organisation dedicated to funding research, reducing diagnosis times and providing support and information for people with brain tumours, their families and friends.
I walked from Leicester (where Cecilia and I met more than 30 years ago) to Bolton (her hometown).
The 120-mile journey ended on April 1 at the Tough Sheet Stadium, the home of Bolton Wanderers, where the Trotters took on the football team I support, Reading FC.
Cecilia’s dad is a Bolton Wanderers fan and walked with me for the final few miles from his home in Sharples to the stadium – a poignant tribute to a much loved and hugely missed mum, partner, daughter, sister and friend.
This challenged helped bring some meaning to Cecilia’s cruel and untimely death.
Cecilia was the life and soul of the party who everyone turned to for help and advice.
She was fun loving, energetic and vibrant. Cecilia was someone who made the world a better place and that world is a lesser place because she is gone.
One of the things Cecilia really enjoyed in the last few weeks of her life, amidst the pain and the despair, was to experience “the warmth of the sun on her face” and to “feel the soil in her fingers”.
I feel exactly the same way and will treasure these moments in her memory.
Cecilia Keefe, who was a social worker at West Sussex County Council, passed away in May 2023 aged 52.
Mark Smith, who works for Cats Protection, has so far for the .
