Daughter of right-to-die campaigner Tony Nicklinson gives a heartbreaking account of life without him five years on from his death
CAREFULLY climbing into the vintage sports car in her wedding dress, Lauren Peters felt tears prick her eyes.
Looking across at her mum Jane, she realised that she, too, was crying.
After hours filled with excited anticipation, in that moment of calm on a sunny April morning, the pair broke down, knowing what the other was thinking.
“If things had been very different, it would have been Dad in the car with me ready to walk me up the aisle, not Mum,” explains Lauren sadly.
“As grateful as I was to have her there, I couldn’t help but wish it was Dad. Mum completely understood. In that moment, I missed him so much.”
Lauren’s father Tony Nicklinson hit headlines in 2010 when he became a right-to-die campaigner, five years after suffering a massive stroke aged just 51.
The condition left him with locked-in syndrome, which meant he could feel emotions, hear and think, but his body was completely paralysed and he couldn’t talk.
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Trapped in his own body, Tony – who had worked as an engineer – needed round-the-clock care from his wife and a team of professionals. For years, he and his family fought a legal battle to allow doctors to end his life without fear of prosecution.
“Before the stroke, my dad was a very fit, independent man,” says Lauren, now 29, who works in PR.
“He was really adventurous, travelling the world for his work, and always up for having a laugh.
“But above all, he was a devoted husband and father. It was Dad who taught me how to ride a bike without stabilisers, and when we lived in Malaysia for his work when I was little, one of our favourite things to do was snuggle up and watch thunderstorms together.”
However, following Tony’s stroke, life changed dramatically overnight.
“It became a living hell,” says Lauren.
“Dad had to learn to communicate just by using his eyes and a computer that tracked their movements across a board of letters. After five months, he managed to tell us he wanted to die. It was heartbreaking, but it must have taken such courage to say.”
Rather than be angry at her father’s determination to end his life, Lauren, her sister Beth, 28, who works in sales, and mum Jane, 61, an NHS worker, supported his choice.
“We felt so desperately sad and powerless, as we had no idea what we could do to help him,” says Lauren.
“But the thought of Dad having to live as he was for years was unbearable.”
From that moment, the family dedicated themselves to campaigning for his, and others’, right to die. However, six days before Tony’s death they lost their High Court case to allow doctors to legally end his life.
“Dad wept inconsolably,” says Lauren.
“That fight had kept him going, but once he realised he wasn’t going to get the dignified, painless death he craved, he gave up. He contracted pneumonia but refused to go to hospital for treatment. He stopped eating and drinking and quickly slipped into a coma.”
Lauren was living in Bristol at the time, and a few days after the ruling she got a call from Beth saying she needed to go to their family home in Melksham, Wiltshire, as their dad didn’t have long left.
There, along with Beth, Jane and Tony’s sister Ginny, 67, the family kept a vigil by his bedside until the morning of August 22, 2012.
“At around 10am, he opened his eyes for the first time in 36 hours, took a final breath and slipped away,” says Lauren.
After their dad’s death, Lauren and Beth spoke exclusively to Fabulous about their relief that he was no longer in pain. Now, almost five years
on, Lauren insists that remains her overriding emotion.
“I’ve never wished that he was still alive and suffering so much,” she says.
“But as my life has moved on without him here, of course there are still times when it’s so hard to not have my dad around.”
Falling in love and getting married have given Lauren a newfound insight into her mum’s experience.
She met husband Alex, 34, when they were introduced by mutual friends in a pub 10 months after Tony’s death.
“Now I’m a wife myself, I understand even more clearly how devastating it was for Mum,” says Lauren.
“I feel like Alex and I are two halves of a whole, and I know Mum felt the same way about her and Dad. The thought of losing Alex the way she lost him… it’s just inconceivable.
“When we first met, I held back from telling him about Dad. I just didn’t know how to bring it up – it’s not exactly a normal conversation topic with a new boyfriend. Plus our legal campaign had really divided opinion, so I wouldn’t know how he’d react. Dad’s death was also still raw, so I didn’t trust myself not to break down trying to explain everything.”
Instead, Lauren posted a link on her Facebook page to a story about Tony and his legal battle, knowing Alex would see it.
“He told me he’d read it and done some research himself, and reassured me he’d be there to listen when I felt ready to talk.”
Lauren admits it’s painful knowing her father and husband never had the opportunity to meet.
“Before the stroke they’d have got on brilliantly with a shared love of travel, rugby and having a few beers. I can just picture them together,” she says with a smile.
“But post-stroke, it would have been impossible for them to form a bond. Dad would have hated his future son-in-law to see him weak and vulnerable.”
Lauren and Alex got engaged in April 2016, and began planning their wedding day for April 8 this year at a converted barn in Gloucester close to her family home.
“I was faced with making choices lots of brides don’t have to worry about, like who was going to give me away and speak in Dad’s place, and what was the best way to remember him on the day.
“I decided not to have formal seating because I couldn’t bear the thought of a table plan without Dad’s name on it. The wedding car was the exact same car Mum and Dad had for theirs in 1986. It was my way of including him and remembering him as he’d been before he was sick.”
Thinking back to her big day, Lauren can’t praise her mum highly enough.
“Life has been so difficult for her,” she says.
“After seven years of caring for Dad for 16 hours a day, suddenly she had to come to terms with being widowed, while also forging a new life without him.
“It certainly wasn’t how she’d imagined my wedding day to be, but she was amazing. After we’d shed a few tears in the car, I felt determined to just enjoy the day because I knew Dad would want that. Mum walked me up the aisle and spoke beautifully after the meal, paying tribute to him as part of her speech.
“As much as I missed Dad, I also know what an ordeal it would have been for him if he was unable to perform his father-of-the-bride duties or dance with me. He’d feel uncomfortable in front of so many people and would often cry uncontrollably or laugh manically – side effects of the stroke that he found embarrassing.”
Now Lauren is busy planning her and Alex’s honeymoon to New Zealand, but admits that their dream to start a family is tinged with the knowledge that their children will never meet their grandfather.
“It does make me sad, but I’ll make sure he’s a part of their lives and they know how brave he was,” she insists.
“I miss Dad every day, but I still hear his voice telling me to live my life, make memories and not allow his death to overshadow my future – so that’s what I’ll always do.”
If you'd like to understand more about the complicated debate over euthanasia and the assisted suicide law in the UK, check out this explainer which outlines each side of the argument.