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Those words stayed with me as I sat beside Deborah’s bed, holding her hand in the quiet hours before she slipped away. There is no guide for watching your child die. You’re not meant to outlive them, to whisper goodbyes while trying to be strong one last time.
Her hand felt impossibly small. This was the same woman who raised children, inspired millions through her writing, and faced stage 4 bowel cancer with fierce honesty. For five and a half years she endured surgeries, treatments, hope, and heartbreak, yet she never stopped fighting—not just for herself, but for her children, her family, and countless strangers.
Deborah turned her diagnosis into purpose. Through her words, she saved lives, pushed people to seek help, and made others feel less alone. Even at the end, she chose light over fear, love over despair.
When she took her final breath, it felt like both an ending and a release. Her life was not defined by its length, but by its impact—by courage, compassion, and love that continues to ripple outward.
