Things Gina would have...

It seems like yesterday that we left the Beatson, feeling numb and empty after Gina had slipped away from us. A year on, that numbness still taints every single day and the world still seems a darker place. We carry on though. What else can we do? Gina would want us to find a way to be happy again, but it's so hard.

We've dreaded today. The first Christmas after losing someone close, is bound to be hard. It's doubly difficult for us because this time last year we were sat around Gina's bed opening her presents for her and describing the contents in the hope that she could hear. We'd already had our last conversations with her and two days later she would be gone. Christmas this year isn't about celebration. It's about surviving into a second year without our beautiful girl. This year there are no decorations. No tree. No Christmas dinner. There will be no Christmas morning pancakes - a unique family tradition which Gina was especially keen on. So do we say we'll never do these things again, which we associate with Gina? Or, do we do them as a way to remember her? Both seem equally painful.

If she'd somehow managed to win her battle with cancer, around now Gina would have been watching the second half of "Wicked!" with us. On this day last year, Gina's close family came to Glasgow for a private showing of the first film at the Beatson hospital.  By this time, we were staying with Gina round the clock. She had been sleeping most of the time - but somehow managed to find the strength, not just to stay awake through the film, but to smile and chat, and to be the Gina we all loved so much. It must have been exhausting.  Of course, she knew why everyone was there - but it was infinitely better than the alternative. Without this, everyone would have visited Gina's bedside one-by-one, in far more sombre circumstances. This way, it was turned into a happy occasion that was a rare glimmer of light in those dark days. In a little over 2 weeks, she was gone. We are proud beyond words of the strength she showed on that day - and throughout 2024. The second part ...

Gina's brother recently introduced us to a new version of a family favourite card game. The new version introduces bidding and strategy to a game which was otherwise largely just luck. Gina would have approved. She and her partner loved games like this. I wish we could have introduced her to it.

It's that time of year when the shops are full of mince pies and all the trappings of the commercial Christmas bulldozer. Perhaps understandably, we are not much in the mood for celebrating. There will be no tree here this year. There will be no decorations and everything which can be avoided, will be avoided.  Gina would have disapproved. She'd have wanted us to learn to live without her. Perhaps we will, but Christmas? I don't see us ever celebrating Christmas again, but this year will be especially difficult to endure. 

One of Gina's "funny little ways" was that when changing the volume on the TV, she would always ensure that it was left on an even number. At the time I used to deliberately go for an odd number just to be awkward. I now realise that I probably caused her real anxiety and feel terrible about it. I now find myself doing as Gina would have wanted... Too little too late.

Gina would not  have been in her flat now. If things had not gone so horribly, cruelly wrong, she'd have been making a life with her partner.  For us though, the flat is a connection to Glasgow. It's a reason to keep going back, even though there is nothing left there of Gina's; we've brought it all home. Selling it will be yet another trauma that we need to endure.

The Great North Run was over a week ago now. We knew it would be tough, knowing that Gina would or should have been there running - if not there, then she'd have done other runs by now and we'd have been there to support her. This time we had to be there to support her cousin and boyfriend instead, who ran in Gina's name and raised money for the Beatson charity. We were on the edge of an emotional precipice all day. Normally, seeing young women in running gear, is difficult but oddly, having literally thousands of them didn't seem to have the same impact. Personally, speaking it was unexpected things which had me fighting back the tears - a child with a T-shirt saying "I'm here for my Mum" - a band of teenagers playing behind us. Things which wouldn't normally scratch the surface of an unemotional person like me, that nevertheless were enough to push me right to the edge. The stress of trying to get home, tired and drained at the end of a very long day...

Once upon a time, you used to be able to buy Lemon Polos. They were lemon but slightly minty too. Gina loved them and scoured the Internet looking for evidence that they still existed somewhere, years after they disappeared from UK shelves. No trace was found but they cropped up in conversation from time to time. Fast forward to Gina's brother's trip to China last month and what should appear at the end of a restaurant meal but something which looked and tasted suspiciously like a Lemon Polo.... He discovered that it was a catering product.. available in large bags of mixed flavours. Now which part is the lemon flavour? Gina would have loved finding out.

More reminders today.  Gina hated bits i  the butter... just like cooking veg, mentioned in yesterday's post, I am far more careful than I used to be when buttering my toast. Gina would have approved. Later, while walking through Liverpool, we had a quick look round Sostrene Grene; Gina loved the shop in Glasgow. It was one of the last shops she went into before her illness robbed her of that pleasure too.

 ... they are everywhere. It's not just the obvious things though - the photos of Gina or the things kept and displayed specifically to remind us of her. Every day involves doing things which Gina influenced in some way. Every day provides opportunities to realise that Gina would have approved (or disapproved) of what I am doing. Some examples: Today, I randomly remembered that the software I use to edit webpages and to do other programming tasks, was suggested by Gina. I use that every day. Cooking vegetables; I used to cook them quickly in a frying pan - Gina disapproved.  I now turn the heat down a notch or two, as if she's behind me silently tutting. These are just two that have come to mind today.

Last time, I wrote about change and how everything around us seems to be changing - and not for the better. Here's another example. Looking after a sick daughter is just wrong. It's against the natural order of things. Doing the same for your parents is to be expected. It's still hard though - seeing the people you looked up to and relied upon for much of your life, becoming frail and vulnerable.

Losing Gina turned our lives upside down. If coping with that wasn't enough, things I've taken for granted also seem to be crumbling around me. First the band folded, taking with it regular contact with friends and a constructive purpose. Personality clashes in Railcam have turned that into a chore with an uncertain future. Now 27 years of employment certainty have come to an end with the closure of the site which was my weekday home and band rehearsal space for over a quarter of a century. Today I closed the door for the final time, on an empty shell of a building, almost a year after I heard it would happen. It's another bereavement of sorts.

We're back in Glasgow. Back in Gina's flat. We've been here 2 nights and about to head home. Staying here isn't as traumatic as might be expected. Gina had moved out before her world crumbled and was happy here. Like our last visit, we don't want to leave, and the thought of having to sell the flat isn't a nice one. Out with Gina's partner last night we spotted one of the nurses who looked after Gina; one of the really good ones. She spotted us and there was hugging. It was nice to see her and I hope she got some comfort from seeing the three of us together after all we have been through.

Soon after Gina left us, when my brain was a confused muddle of random thoughts mixed in with all the shock and grief. I remember thinking that writing cards to family for birthdays and the like, would be hard. And so it is. For so long, I wrote my standard "From Pauline, Adrian, Gemma, Gina & Chris". Now, reduced to just four of us, it doesn't sound right in my head. It is incomplete and the rhythm is all wrong.

We have now passed six months without Gina. In the days since we passed the milestone, I've tried to think of something meaningful to write about it, but there is nothing to say. It's shit. That is all.

Apart from family and work, over the last several years, another constant in my life has been "the band". It's been more than just a passtime; it's provided a social focus and a group of friends that I've enjoyed spend time with. My absence last year and the closing of the place where two of us worked - and where we rehearsed  every week, spelled the end for it. Since the beginning of 2025 there has been talk of one last "social"; something we had done a couple of times a year, where the group have an afternoon of beer-drinking and an Indian meal. I thought that by now I'd be ready for this, but have found myself wanting to pull-out. I've written before about how difficult it is to allow ourselves to do anything enjoyable. This feels like that but "turned up to 11". I know that after a couple of beers I'll relax and everything will be like it was before... but when I sober up the guilt and regret will kick in. I've been persuade...

Today is one of those days which are especially hard. Like Mothers Day, today would have involved Gina in some way; even if it was just a telephone call. But Today the phone didn't ring. There was no Father's Day card waiting on the doormat. Anyone who thinks they can imagine how it feels to lose a child, is wrong. We spent months knowing this would happen, or at least that it was possible. In all that time, we knew it would be awful, but completely failed to prepare ourselves. That was partly because we were focused on each day and doing everything we could for our daughter. But still, we couldn't have known how gut wrenching bereft we would be as 2025 dawned or how that would fail to fade after almost half a year. We didn't realise how dismal and depressing almost everything would seem... or how hard it would be to find joy in anything; even things which should bring it in abundance. We didn't realise that we'd have to pretend to be OK to people, but worry abo...

Yesterday, Gina's sister had her second baby; it was in many ways bitter sweet. Gina and Greg would have liked children and even discussed it just before the London surgery which so cruelly took that possibility away from them. Gina would of course have been home to see the new arrival, who has been given the middle name George. For us, hospitals are a place of sadness and desperation so it's tough to be there at all, and harder still to display the joy and hope which accompanies a new person entering the world - one who will never know their Auntie Gina.

While she was still well enough, we played a lot of cards with Gina in hospital. Apart from standard card games, the favourite was Monopoly Deal. I initially thought it was better never to play that again but was persuaded to play on Gina's birthday. Gina would have approved.

Happy birthday Gina. You should have been 29 today. We miss you terribly. 

It's that time of year where Gemma, I, then Gina, have our birthdays, each 4 days apart. Needless to say that none of us feel much like celebrating. As a distraction, we're away from home for the period, but there are plenty of "Gina would have..." moments to negotiate. Firstly, Gina would have been home. If we had been away, she would have joined us. She also loved the outdoors and would have enjoyed our walks round the Lake District. She would have taken the challenge of getting across the water on stepping stones. Gina would have approved of the white sheets in the apartment. She would have encouraged us to climb hills and walk further and would have loved the glorious May weather. As it is though, it's just the two of us at the moment, trying to balance some sense of enjoyment with the guilt which comes with that. Today has been the most low-key birthday of my life, but that's what I needed. Saturday will be the toughest day. Gina w...

Coming home from Glasgow on Monday was a wrench, like a rerun of the trip  back on New Years Eve just 4 days after we lost Gina. Leaving Glasgow again felt like we were somehow leaving her behind. It's been a tough week since then, for some reason. We still wait for it to get easier.

This weekend we are back in Glasgow to sort through some more of Gina's things. Since her flat is now empty we are staying there. I knew it would be tough, but needs doing. I did think that an anonymous empty flat which had had tenants in it for several months, would be ok. But there are little reminders everywhere. This was her place.  She chose it. She and her mum decorated it. The place where she should have been working is right across the road,  all 14 gleaming floors of it which she watched beiing built, but never set foot inside. So cruel.

Today was Gina's Grandma's 90th birthday party. Gina would have been here. For us, the event was cut a little short after Chris decided to run around playing "tig" with the children. What he forgot was that he's a six-foot-three wearing shoes with little or no grip. He went over and did some mischief to his foot which resulted in a trip to A&E for an X ray. Thankfully it's not broken.  Gina would have laughed.

As I've already written, we have anniversaries galore to cope with.  This time last year we were in London. Gina had undergone reductive surgery and had been told that the cancer had been removed. We had hope. Later came the caveat that there was a small area that the surgeon couldn't touch. Still, radiotherapy, chemo and immunotherapy would "mop up" any cancer that might remain. The surgery had been brutal and we would spend a total of three weeks down in the Hammersmith AirBnB before returning to Glasgow. By that time, Gina could walk a little and was beginning to eat. It seemed like the beginning of a road to recovery and it was; for a while.

I'm not sure what a psychologist would say about it but... To anyone but my close family, I must appear to be on top of things. I tell everyone "I'm fine", which at that moment may be true. But the problem is it doesn't take much to suddenly not be OK. And it's not just the times that the grief swells up and sadness takes hold. Other negative emotions are always on the brink too. Anger, impatience and irrationality are also there waiting to bubble up. At a time where we all need to show some understanding to one another, self-centredness often gets in the way. I must try harder. The grief I feel at Gina's loss is actually a mix of emotions. There's the personal loss of course; knowing we'll never hear her voice again, be able to hug her or feel the pride of seeing her achieve new things. There's also the anger of the injustice of it all. Then there's the sadness of knowing that she will never do all the things she wanted in life, denied the...

Gina would have been home in Preston today. She was more or less vegetarian but made a few exceptions, one of which was lamb at easter. Today we've had family round and we've had the lamb but there was something missing.

 As I've already written (see "Away"), what we've discovered, is that we feel guilt whenever we smile, laugh or enjoy absolutely anything. It feels disrespectful to Gina, to be capable of "moving on" in any small way. Yes, we know Gina would want us to miss her, but she would also want us to enjoy the life she was denied. She'd want us to make more of our lives than we would otherwise have done. She'd want us to travel, to enjoy nice things and be happy. If only it were that simple. Richard E Grant has, it seems, covered this in his podcast. He lost his wife and talks about this phenomenon. I need to make time to read/watch/listen to the podcast. Perhaps it will add some perspective.

 Apologies. This may be a long one. The human brain is cleverly wired to notice differences. Changes in the status quo. It notices the things that are out-of-place, but ignores everything it is accustomed to. We never notice the cardboard box of who-knows-what, in the corner of a room, which has no business being there but has been present for so long that it's no longer noticed. Unless it's pointed out, gets in the way or brought to our attention for some other reason, it just doesn't register. Perhaps grief is a bit like that ever-present cardboard box. The contents don't get any easier to deal with, but as time goes on, as it becomes a familiar feature, maybe we'll feel less compelled to open it up quite so often. That's the hope.  The difference though, as I've already written about, is that there are reminders everywhere. The box seems to spring open when you least expect it. You bump into somebody you've not seen for a while who asks how you are, o...

Gina would have loved to have had a garden of her own. She talked about it as recently as last July, when she seemed to be recovering and there was a glimmer of hope of some sort of future ahead of her. She talked about wanting to move out of the city to a house where she could have the garden she always wanted. Gina and Greg's home was full of plants, but there's only so much you can do in a city-centre flat. One of the difficult decisions that has to be made when dealing with the loss of a loved-one, is what to do with their remains. We discussed scattering the ashes, perhaps in St Andrews, but when it came to it, we didn't think we were ready for that. We were offered the chance of having some of the ashes embedded into jewellery of some sort, but that really wasn't for us; nor was the idea of keeping the ashes in the house somehow. So, this is where Gina's ashes now lie. In a stone urn, in a sheltered but occasionally sunny part of the garden. I can't claim ...

We've already had the anniversary of the day Gina found out she had cancer, but this year will be full of significant dates.  Yesterday was Mothers Day - a tough one to get through for Gina's mum (note to self - don't watch a harrowing TV drama about traumatised parents, when you are clinging on by your fingernails already) . Other anniversaries are coming up - Gina's birthday in May will be hard. Christmas will be worse. I'd love to say that it's getting easier as time goes on, but all of us seem to have had a difficult few weeks. Perhaps denial is fading and the reality is sinking in. Even so, it still doesn't feel real.

Before university, before she "flew the nest", Gina had a few favourite things she liked to make in the kitchen (other than a mess!). One of those was flapjack, from a recipe printed on a tea towel which came from Ireland. The tea towel is faded and frayed, but still legible, so ... Chris has had a go at it today.  One of the food options at Gina's funeral was the Preston delicacy  butter pie  . Chris has had a crack at that as well today.  Gina would have approved of both.

One of the things about grief, is how it makes you feel guilty if you smile, laugh or do anything which might be considered enjoyable. It feels wrong; even disrespectful... except of course that we know that our lost loved-one would not have wanted this. In the middle of last year, we were gifted the chance to stay away in the Lakes for a night with a fine-dining experience. At the time of course, we couldn't go, and even then hoped that Gina and her partner could go instead. That wasn't to be.  So we found ourselves with time running out, and booked a night away.  Gina would have loved it. Starting with a ginger beer - Gina loved anything with ginger... the whole thing was perhaps wasted on us but would have been properly appreciated by our daughter. We wish she could have enjoyed it instead of us, but at least we've broken our duck and been and done something for ourselves.  The meal was something else - an experience rather than just food. The surroundings were certain...

It always brings a lump to the throat when we see a young woman - especially with blonde hair - out running as Gina loved to do. It's tough not to be resentful; to wonder why Gina isn't allowed to be out doing one of the things she loved most. We walk quite a bit, so it happens often, and I suspect it will always be a reminder of what she, and we, have lost. Sometimes when people do things for good reasons, it's hard to deal with. People running for charity in Gina's memory is undoubtedly a nice way to honour her, but it's still tough to see other people doing something Gina would have loved to be doing.

Grief is a strange thing. It hides in the shadows while you are busy and jumps out when you least expect it.  A few days ago, I was working - doing my usual database stuff in Access. This should be a safe environment, with no tripwires or boobytraps. Not so, it seems.  There's me looking up when we last placed an order with a company in Germany - it turns out that we've just placed the second one, with the first being back in 2015 - initials GAB.  Gina would have been amused that the evidence of work she did in her summer holidays is still lurking almost10 years later in a system in Cheltenham.

Gina would have loved it ... if what she was initially told after the first surgery, turned out to be true. One year ago today, Gina went in for routine keyhole surgery to remove what was thought to be a benign ovarian cyst. When she came round after surgery, she found out that they'd had to open her up, which was a blow, but she was told that it was all done.  If only that had been true.  A little while later, the surgeon appeared, to drop the bombshell that he'd burst the cyst and then found what he thought was cancer, and just sewed her back up. That news came without anybody else present, leaving Gina to call us in tears, as her life was turned upside down, starting a nine-month rollercoaster that none of us were prepared for. If only the cyst hadn't  been burst, or the scans had been interpreted more effectively. Perhaps, just perhaps things might have turned out differently.

Last night Chris & I went to the Liverpool Philharmonic to see Fish, the former Marillion singer, on his farewell tour. Gina would NOT have loved it. I tried many times (and failed) to get Gina interested in Marillion. The most recent attempt was in the Beatson late last year. We had another gig booked for the three of us next month, for something she would have loved - Steven Wilson - but sold the tickets. We couldn't bring ourselves to go to that - the options being an empty seat or someone else sat where Gina should be. Also, that would have been in Glasgow.

Gina loved music. Her tastes were broad, ranging from The Beatles and The Stones  via 80s pop all the way through to the modern day. British singer/songwriter Frank Turner was one of her favourites and she chose one of his songs Be More Kind  for her funeral. That song has just started on Spotify as I type this. Tomorrow (Saturday) Frank Turner plays a charity gig in Lancaster, in support of the Citizens Advice Service.  We have tickets and will battle through the sadness that Gina can't be with us, to do something in her memory. When she was well, Gina went to see Frank Turner more than once. On one occasion, she emailed him to ask if he would play one particular song Four Simple Words  - which he did in fact play. I remember her telling me about this when I had no idea who Frank Turner was. I've emailed him too and explained about Gina, about the two songs which are particularly important to her and the fact that we are going to be there. We'll see if he can squ...

Yesterday, something popped-up on Facebook about making breakfast pancakes in an air frier. Gina would have been trying that, without a doubt. As an aside, a Christmas tradition (unique to the Bradshaw household, as far as I'm aware), was to have pancakes with lemon & sugar - like Shrove Tuesday - for breakfast.  Gina loved pancakes. 

Some time in late 2024, I'm not sure precisely when, I read that a new Manic Street Preachers album was on the way in the new year. Gina was a big fan, so I excitedly passed-on the news. I remember realising, as the words passed my lips, that it was unlikely she would be here to enjoy it. She would also have realised that and I felt bad for bringing it up. Well here we are in mid-February. Gina has been gone for seven long weeks. The new Manics album " Critical Thinking " is here and I'm listening to it - on Spotify - something Gina persuaded me I should try. Gina would have loved it.

It's seven weeks since our funny, clever, kind, beautiful "little" girl lost her fight with cancer. The months leading up to that were hard but rather like the covid lock-downs, it all seems to blur into one, as we spent as much time as possible with Gina and tried to make her time in hospital a little more bearable. We were there every day as she met every challenge and every set-back with the same determination. She never gave in - and as those of us who are left behind struggle to come to terms with a world no longer lit by her presence, we somehow need to borrow a bit of that gritty determination. Gina's funeral was back home in Preston a month and a day after she passed away in Glasgow. If confirmation were needed - that she was universally loved by just about everyone that she ever knew - then the funeral proved that. I sometimes wish that I'd kept a diary through the last year. It may have helped - perhaps it would be too traumatic to revisit. Coming back t...