Elaine’s Story
Elaine's story, told by her daughter Emma
My mum, Elaine, was from a big family, one of seven children, and the apple of her daddy’s eye. She was strong, determined, funny, and incredibly kind. Growing up, it was just the two of us. I was born in the building that is now the Hospice and later christened there. Mum was already working there when I was born, so I always felt like I had been born into the Hospice family, and I was always treated that way too.
Mum spent almost all her working life in the Hospice as a nursing auxiliary. She was so good at her job, and so proud to tell everyone where she worked. Many of my childhood memories are tied to the Hospice, helping her raise money for her trek to China, volunteering at open days, or waiting for her to come home after a night shift on Christmas morning so I could show her my presents. She spoke so lovingly of her work that I grew to love the Hospice too.
In 2016, we received the devastating news that Mum had breast cancer. She was only 51, full of life, and a devoted nanny to Hannah and Shane. After treatment and surgery, she returned to work, saying it gave her even more empathy for patients and families.
Her cancer returned twice, and each time she fought through, supported by her amazing colleagues, which meant the world to her. Even after further surgery and treatment, she was determined to beat her illness and return to work. She always thought of herself as a carer rather than a patient, and accepting help was never easy for her.
In the autumn of 2023, sickness once again struck a devastating blow for Mum. It was incredibly hard for her to accept. She didn’t want to believe it, but her condition continued to worsen. By February 2024, she officially retired from the Hospice, where her colleagues held a special tea party to mark her retirement. It was an emotional day, filled with love and memories. Just weeks later, after celebrating Mum’s 60th birthday in March, we were faced with the heartbreaking reality of a palliative diagnosis.
Those months were incredibly hard. Mum was in and out of hospital, and by then I had three children to care for. My youngest, Orla, had only just turned one. She was still so little, yet already strong-willed and so much like her Nanny Elaine, who adored her. As an only child, trying to balance work, hospital visits, school runs, a one-year-old, and family life was overwhelming at times, and I could not have managed without the support of my husband, family, and friends.
In September 2024, Hospice care was suggested. Mum was reluctant at first, she had worked there for most of her life, and the staff weren’t just colleagues, they were her friends. I can only imagine how hard it was for her to make the decision to go into the place she knew so well.
I thought I understood what Hospice care was. I’d grown up surrounded by it, but being on the other side, I realised I had no idea. We were wrapped in love and kindness. Mum was treated like a queen in her favourite room, Room 9, with a fabulous view over the gardens and Newry Quay.
I became Elaine’s daughter again. I wasn’t the carer, the organiser, the go-between. I had the time and space to just sit with her, to talk properly. I could leave knowing she was safe, lovingly cared for by her work family. The whole team were extraordinary, involving her in every decision and helping me through the hardest time of my life.
On 14th November 2024, Mum passed away peacefully, in the care of her work friends at the Hospice where she had spent her life as a devoted carer. It was a moment of unbearable loss, and we cried together. Yet there was comfort in knowing she was surrounded by colleagues who not only valued her as part of their team but also loved her as a dear friend. As she left the Hospice for her final journey home, the team formed a guard of honour, a deeply moving gesture of respect and love that I will never forget.
This Christmas, we’ll be dedicating a light to her at the Hospice’s Light Up A Life event. Christmas won’t be the same without her, but visiting the tree, bringing the children, and keeping the Hospice close in our hearts helps us feel connected. Mum may be gone, but she will always be part of our Christmas.
