It's Not The Same Without Mum

Christmas had always been a magical time for Ian Ballantine, 33, and family – but last Christmas Eve, his mum had a heartbreaking request

- Louise Baty, Sangita Mistry

With a smile, my mum, Anne, ushered me and my older sister, Jill, into our front room as we gasped with delight. The tree was twinkling with lights and carols were playing softly on the radio, but what caught our attention was the heap of brightly wrapped gifts under the tree.

‘Happy Christmas,’ Mum, then 40, said as we rushed towards our presents. It was Christmas morning in 1994 and, for me, as an eight-year-old with a new black and red bike, it seemed like Mum and our dad, Willy, had created magic in our home.

Shock diagnosis

Later, our aunties, uncles, and cousins arrived for Christmas dinner. Sitting around the table, pulling crackers and telling jokes, it was the perfect family Christmas – and it was down to Mum. She loved the festive period and outdid herself every year to make it special for us.

Even as we got older, Mum would spoil us with gifts, and she and Dad would host a big family dinner with all the trimmings.

Mum worked at a primary school doing admin and loved her job. At weekends, she’d make time to do something fun with us. She and Dad would also save up to take us on holiday to Florida.

But then, in July 2001, when I was 15, she started to have wrist pain. ‘It’s agony,’ I heard her saying to Dad one night. She gradually lost strength and movement in it, until she could no longer drive, but it wasn’t until the following year that tests brought devastating news.

Mum had motor neuron disease. Her illness was incurable and it was unlikely she’d live longer than four years. First, she’d lose her mobility, then her ability to speak, swallow and breathe.

‘I’ll never go to your weddings, or meet my grandchildren,’ Mum sobbed. After the initial shock, she vowed to stay positive.