I was plagued by terrifying panic attacks and couldn’t leave the house, says Dame Debs’ mum as she opens up on her grief
HEATHER JAMES is no stranger to grief.
At 21, she watched her dad Arthur die of a massive heart attack, despite calling the doctor when he complained of indigestion after picking apples from a tree with her.
As a 44-year-old she lost her niece Vicky in a car accident a week before her 18th birthday, her sister Susan, 65, died of breast cancer in 2012 and mum Ida Poppy died seven years ago at the age of 90.
But it was the death of her daughter, Dame Deborah James, last June that totally changed what grief means to her.
Heather, 66, says: “I’ve known a lot of sadness in my life but the grief when a mother loses her daughter is totally different. I don’t think I will ever get over it.”
Sun columnist Dame Debs died on June 28, 2022, aged 40 — five and a half years after she was diagnosed with stage 4 bowel cancer.
When she was given days to live, it was her parents’ home in Woking that she chose to return to with her husband Seb and their children Hugo, 16, and Eloise, 14.
For seven weeks, Deborah was surrounded by her family, including dad Alistair and siblings Sarah and Ben, with mum Heather staying up through the night to watch movies and comfort her eldest.
So when Dame Debs finally passed away, Heather says she was overcome with a sense of relief.
“Deborah was terrified of dying, she didn’t want to leave any of us, especially the children,” she says.
“I hated that I couldn’t tell her what it would be like or how she would feel.
“So the minute she took her last breath I was relieved she was no longer in pain or scared. Her final moments were peaceful and we all covered up a lot of emotion to make it OK for Deborah.
“It feels awful to say that I was relieved because I was devastated and really never thought she would die.
“But as soon as she did, I went into full-blown coping mode. I immediately started to clean the house and sort everything out.
Terrifying panic attacks around first anniversary
“The thing I had been dreading most in the world had happened and so my grief came out as relief that the worst was behind me.”
It was to be the first stage in the evolution of Heather’s grief, which saw her suffer a series of terrifying panic attacks around the first anniversary.
Speaking for the first time about it, Heather tells The Sun: “I didn’t know what was happening. I would be driving and suddenly I couldn’t breathe, my hands would go numb and start tingling.
“It became worse and worse, to the point where I didn’t want to leave the house.
“Home was the only place I felt safe, I couldn’t go shopping on my own, Alistair had to come with me. I panicked if I found myself in a crowd.”
It was one of Dame Debs’ most-loved songs that caught Heather off guard and triggered a series of confronting memories.
During the funeral service, Debs’ friend, jazz singer Natalie Rushdie, sang Tell Me It’s Not True from the musical Blood Brothers.
“It was one of Deborah’s favourites, and after the funeral I played it 20 to 30 times a day,” Heather says.
“I don’t know why but it was exactly the same when my sister died. I played I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston over and over again.”
Ahead of the first anniversary, Natalie, with the full support of Deborah’s whole family, released a version of the song to raise money for Dame Deb’s Bowelbabe Fund.
“It is such a beautiful song and a stunning tribute to Deborah,”
Heather says. “But hearing it, all I could see was Deborah’s coffin in front of me in the church.
“It hit me out of nowhere, I didn’t understand it. I was so happy at the song’s release but all of a sudden I was crippled by these panic attacks.”
Her GP said she had been expecting the reaction and, despite an initial reluctance, Heather was prescribed SSRIs, a common type of antidepressant.
Heather says: “All those weeks looking after Deborah, I didn’t sleep and I just got used to it. That carried on after she died but I didn’t think there was a problem because I could still function. A year later, I think my body just gave in to exhaustion.
“I’d been running on adrenalin. I was anti taking any drugs to help but they are exactly what I needed.
“Talking is good therapy but if you need more, please don’t be afraid to ask and don’t let embarrassment stop you.
“I take a low dose but they take the edge off it all for me.
“Of course I still get upset and sad and I have all the memories, but I can manage it.”
While some people struggle to talk about their lost loved ones, Heather says it is one of the ways she deals with the loss of her daughter.
She says: “I love talking about Deborah, we all talk about her all the time.
“When we get together as a family we used to be 12, now we are 11 but she’s still a part of it.
“I will always be a mother of three, the fact that we can only see and touch two of our children now doesn’t take away from the fact Deborah is still our child.
“She will always be a part of our conversations. I can’t touch her but I do feel that she’s still with us.
“When I catch myself feeling sad or not wanting to get dressed up and go out, I feel her and I know what she would say to me. I like it when people come up to me and share their memories of Deborah or talk about her with me. It’s a comfort.
“I still have lots of photos of her up, I’ll never take them down. Deborah was such a force, such a big, beautiful presence, how could she possibly just disappear from all our feelings and day-to-day lives?
“There’s a lovely saying, ‘You may be gone in body but not in mind or spirit’, and that’s how I feel. It’s like she’s gone away and I won’t get to see her for a long, long time.”
In Heather’s mind her grief, and that of the family, has been shaped by Deborah and her defiant positivity.
“I grieve for Deborah but I don’t want to live a sad life,” Heather adds.
“I owe it to her to live the life she can’t, we all do.
“She was adamant in those final weeks that we must not sit around crying.”
Her husband Alistair has faced their daughter’s death in his own way.
He says: “I have never been a crier or one to break down. I lost my father when I was 34 and my mother at 44, but it is very different when it’s your daughter.
“I feel her loss as strongly as Heather, but I find keeping myself busy with Deborah’s fund helps, as does working. And with four grandchildren, something is always happening.”
For many, anger is an emotion that surfaces when a loved one dies, but not for Heather.
She says: “I feel like the luckiest mother to have had Deborah given to me for 40 years. Part of me loves the fact that she will never grow old. She will always be the bright, vibrant, sparkly whirlwind that we remember — she won’t age or change.”
For Dame Debs’ family, the legacy she leaves behind is a huge comfort.
In the weeks before she died, Deborah established her Bowelbabe Fund hoping to raise £250,000 to help fund research into the disease that claimed her life.
Within a week it hit £1million, climbing to just shy of £7million by the time she died.
Today it stands at £12.3million.
Heather, referring to her daughter’s deteriorating health after a series of sepsis diagnoses in the summer of 2021, says: “The truth is that Deborah should’ve died about a year earlier.
“I remember telling Seb that part of me wished she had died earlier, so she could have avoided all that pain and suffering.
“He just said to me, ‘But look at what she has achieved with that time’.
“He’s right. Just look at the impact she’s had, driving such vital awareness since her diagnosis, helping to lower the bowel cancer screening age with The Sun.
“There’s been a huge rise in people seeking bowel cancer checks on the NHS, she campaigned to get new drugs approved, she has raised £12.3million, written two books, launched a charity and has an In The Style collection.
“Deborah could have hidden away and dealt with her treatment privately but those of us who knew and loved her knew that was never going to be her way.
“Deborah dressed up as a poo, she made it her mission to educate people about the symptoms and she did everything she could to try to help other people avoid her fate.
“People might look at me and think I get all dressed up and don’t care. The reality is it’s quite the opposite. I get dressed up to go to charity events and it’s our way of helping to carry on what Deborah started.”
This Christmas will be the family’s second without Dame Debs and Heather admits she is dreading it.
She says: “Losing your child is something you will never get over but I am learning that living alongside it and not letting it weigh you down is OK.
“Deborah loved Christmas, she was the one decorating, making cakes, holding wreath-making parties, and we don’t have her to spur us all on any more.
“Anyone who has lost a loved one will know it’s a difficult time of the year.
“I will be glad when it’s past but I owe it to Deborah to try to enjoy it.
“We spent so many years fearing it would be her last Christmas, now we have to face it without her.”
