We found out about Ros' diagnosis on her 43rd birthday – it was heartbreaking. I didn't want to set foot in the hospice at first because I thought it was an admission of 'it's the end', but the support they gave us was amazing.
Ros and I met in first year at Lancaster University. After university, Ros took a job as a reception teacher at Weston Primary in Runcorn, where she remained for her whole life and became headteacher.
I went travelling around America, New Zealand and Australia. But I ran out of money and had to fly home due to a large data roaming bill because I'd phoned Ros so often. So I came back and we moved in together not long after that.
Our daughter Maggie was born on 16 April 2016. She is a real blessing. Ros was a natural with kids. Being a headteacher, she was used to them, and kids loved her. Some schools struggle to educate certain kids if they've got physical conditions or bad behaviour, but Ros would always seek to work with them. She saw the possibilities.
We found out that Ros had stage 4 bowel cancer on her birthday
We both took the day off for the 2pm appointment. Ros had already prepared herself and said to me, "I think this is going to be bad news". I said, "Let's not worry about it until we know".
At 10am that day, her deputy head rang and said: "You're not going to believe this. Ofsted are in." Ros then had to change her mindset from worrying about herself to going into work – on her birthday as well. She did all the Ofsted stuff for a couple of hours, came home, picked me up, then we dashed to the hospital.
We got the prognosis. The brutal reality, which you don't want to hear, but you don't want to be given a load of fluff either. They said we could have between 12 months and five years. It was just heartbreaking to hear.
Despite receiving news of her terminal illness, Ros was determined not to let it affect her school and was able to park the news and go about her work until all the work with Ofsted was done. Her strength and love for the school was unbelievable.
Ros said: "I want to make sure I fit in as much as I can"
We kept busy over the summer, even though Ros was knackered. I'm ever so grateful we did. They've been good memories.
I can only think of two, maybe three occasions where Ros broke down and got really upset. One was after the first course of chemo didn't work, and then one was halfway through the second course. She said, "I don't want to die. I'm dead upset and worried about Maggie and my dad". Apart from that, she was very stoic and determined to give things a go.
When Maggie asked, "Is Mummy going to die?" I had to reply, "I hope not, but maybe". In that moment her face sank and I'll never get over it. Both of us were heartbroken with the reality.
Ros said, "I want to make sure I fit in as much as I can". I'm ever so grateful we did.
The hospice doesn't feel like a grim place, it's a place full of love
When Ros was admitted to the Marie Curie Hospice, Liverpool, we were swamped with attention, people offering us cups of tea and checking Ros' pain and medication. They couldn't have done more. Ros said: "I feel happy here and I'm glad we've come here."
Every single person in there, from the person coming around with the cups of tea through to the receptionists Lyn and Rita, the ambulance people that were coming in, everyone was just so nice. That's why I can't praise them enough. It was just amazing.
When the hospice doctor said, "It's likely that she might not have much longer," our friends dropped everything. They came from Bristol, Newcastle, London, all over the place. My brother came from Australia.
Marie Curie facilitated all that. There was a queue outside Ros' room. If anything gives me solace, it was her knowing how many people cared about her.
When Ros died, me and her dad were there with her
We held her hand either side and I think she knew. One of the final things she said was: "I love you."
My mum picked Maggie up from school, which is round the corner from the Marie Curie Hospice. I sat on the little bench outside waiting for her. When I said, "Mummy's passed away", she broke down crying, which is normal. I said to her: "Do you want to go and see Mummy?" She said yes.
When we went inside, Maggie said, "No, no, I don't want to go in". She started crying outside the room.
At that point, fortunately, Maggie's Marie Curie counsellor Rachel came down. They had a chat, then Maggie said, "I want to go in". So, she went in and saw her mummy, said, "I love you" and "goodnight". Rachel gave her little teddies – one for her and one for Ros. Maggie put the teddy on Ros' bed with a little card.
One of the business managers in Ros' school got the Mersey Gateway Bridge lit up in Marie Curie yellow in her honour
Marie Curie is part of our life story
Maggie started counselling at the hospice before Ros went there and she goes for weekly counselling with Rachel. She bounds in. We take little bars of chocolate – one for Maggie and one for Rachel – as a little treat and she gets spoilt rotten in there. Staff come out with cake for her. They're all lovely and they make a fuss over her.
In Maggie's bedroom there's a little Marie Curie knitted teddy which she got from the Marie Curie stall in the farmer's market. She wears a Marie Curie daffodil every day on her school cardigan. I've got one on my coat as well.
When Ros passed, we set up a JustGiving fund for Marie Curie. We've raised enough to pay for the hospice for a day . It's been lovely to see the amount of money raised and the messages.
There are times where I know I'm doing really well and me and Maggie are making good progress. Other times it just hits you and hurts you. I try and keep busy doing little jobs around the house that you put off like steam cleaning. I know Ros would be saying: "Good job, well done."
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