It’s my first Father’s Day without Debs – I’ll never forget my final moments with her, says Deborah James’ dad
SHE hailed him as her “unsung hero” and, right until the very end, Dame Deborah James’s dad was there, making sure she was surrounded by love.
His daughter was just 40 when she passed away last June — five and a half years after being diagnosed with bowel cancer.
The Bowelbabe Fund that Deborah launched has so far raised a staggering £11.3million to fund vital cancer research.
Parents Alistair, 67, and Heather, 65, were by her side during her final moments.
“I was in the kitchen doing the washing up after lunch,”
Alistair tells me. “Heather suddenly called for me, telling me it was happening and I needed to come now. Saying goodbye was very hard, but it was peaceful.
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“Right towards the end, I told her, ‘You can let go now, you have done enough. You can sleep’. I’d never said anything like that before.
“I knew when the time was right. She needed to know it was OK.”
Given today is the first Father’s Day since his daughter died, Alistair could be forgiven for dwelling on his own sadness — but his heart goes out to son-in-law Seb, 43, and their children Hugo, 15, and 13-year-old Eloise.
He tells me: “My biggest sadness is for Deborah, and the fact she will miss out on so many Father’s Days with Seb, Hugo and Eloise.
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“They were at that stage where they were enjoying their lives together, being parents and thriving in their careers.
‘It breaks me’
“Deborah will miss out on growing old with her husband, seeing her kids grow up and having their own children, and she will never get to realise her dream of becoming a head teacher.
“I am so sad that she is missing out. Her life was cut short just when she was living it to the full — she had so much to offer.”
Alistair is as selfless in grief as he was while his beloved daughter was alive.
Last year, in one of her final interviews with me, Debs — who wrote an online column for The Sun — became emotional talking about him, her husband, son and brother Ben, 32.
She said: “This year it’s about my dad and Seb, but it’s also about the men in my life who will hopefully one day be fathers too.
“I can’t really comprehend the fact I won’t be here to see that.
“It breaks me. Seb is a great father, he loves them so much and I know that when I’m no longer here, he will love them for me too.”
Turning her attention to Alistair, she said: “My dad is my unsung hero, more so than ever. He’s always been a very calming, loving presence in my life. He’s very good at handling me and all my craziness. His patience knows no bounds.”
Alistair laughs as he recalls memories of Deborah’s “emergencies”.
He says: “Whenever she was sick, she would call her mum.
“When she needed money or help or was in trouble, she called me.
“Thankfully Seb stepped in and took some of that responsibility when they got married. But I still got the odd call to say, ‘Dad, my car’s out of petrol, help!’, ‘I’m locked out’, ‘This or that doesn’t work’.
Those will always be Dad’s job.
“She rang me once because she’d been asked for ID in the supermarket.
“Typically she had nothing on her, so she proudly told me she’d shown the cashier one of her Sun columns to prove her age — and it worked. Only Deborah!”
Last May Deborah shared a heartbreaking final column, telling readers she was leaving hospital to receive end-of-life care at her parents’ home in Woking, Surrey.
Given just days — weeks at most — to live, Deborah was determined to make every second count.
“And boy, did she,” says her dad, beaming with pride. “I know a lot of people probably questioned all the things she did in those last weeks, but she had her list of things she needed to do. I wasn’t going to get in her way — no one was. I knew she wouldn’t settle until certain things had been done, and so we all did that we could to help her.”
In addition to her fundraising, Deborah was also determined to finish her second book, launch a fashion line with In The Style and visit the Chelsea Flower Show to see a new rose named in her honour.
And she secured an incredible deal with Tesco to feature the symptoms of bowel cancer on all its toilet rolls.
The Sun mounted a campaign to honour our columnist, and Debs was made a Dame in a day — with Prince William visiting the family at their home to bestow the honour.
In just seven weeks she achieved what the average person could only dream of achieving in a lifetime — but that didn’t surprise her dad.
Alistair says: “The Dame Debs you saw in those final weeks was the same Deborah we saw as a child.
“She was always full of energy, the driving force in our family. She was always coming up with fun ideas, ways to make memories together.
“She would create outdoor cinemas in the garden, plan last-minute holidays, throw impromptu parties — it was never-ending.”
One of Alistair’s favourite memories in the last seven weeks of Deborah’s life was watching his three children — Deborah, Ben and Sarah, 39 — share time together.
“It was like they were back to being kids again,” he says.
‘That was her magic’
“There was one night where she cleared everyone else out and had a sleepover, just the three of them.
“We all knew how desperate it was and we did have some desperately sad times. But we all made sure there were lots of good times, too.
“We really learnt to treasure the small things, like sitting at the table with Deborah, helping her prepare a meal, sitting in the garden together, brushing her hair.”
Milestones, such as Father’s Day, are “hard”, but this time of year also brings back fond memories.
“We both loved all sports,” he says. “I remember her taking me to The Ashes cricket four years ago.
“She loved every minute of it. We loved days out at Wimbledon together. It’s those things that I’ll really miss.”
While cancer stole his daughter from him, Deborah’s diagnosis opened Alistair’s eyes to another extra-ordinary side to his eldest girl.
As a former deputy head teacher, it was no secret that Deborah had a gift for inspiring people.
“I always knew she had the ability to make things happen,” Alistair says.
“But in the years after she was diagnosed we saw it on another level. She got people talking about difficult things and she made it normal.
“That was her magic — the magic of connectivity. I’m not sure she realised the true extent of it.”
Alistair adds: “There was one day when we went for a drink at a local pub. The waiter came over and said it was on the house — and that they would donate to Deborah’s fund.
“As her dad, I just went, ‘Wow’. I was incredibly proud of her and the impact she was having. Her story touched everyone.”
He was also staggered at the money she raised.
But he adds: “It’s more than the money for me. I remember speaking to one of the cancer bigwigs at the NHS. He said the NHS is very good at stage 4 cancer care but not at spotting cancer in the earliest stages. Deborah knew how important early diagnosis was, and driving that message — for people to be aware of their bodies and what is normal.
“If you know what’s normal, you know when something is off.
“Deborah wanted patients to speak up and doctors to listen so lives would be saved — and she was right.
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“Her legacy will continue for years in the lives she has helped, and will continue to help save lives. That’s an incredible thing.”
- To make a donation to Deborah’s fund, go to .
