Popping into my parents’ house, I pictured the sparkling turquoise seas waiting for us.
‘Not long now,’ I beamed in excitement.
It was late 2010 and we were soon jetting off to Vietnam.
Only, they both didn’t look in the holiday mood.
‘We can’t go anymore, love,’ my mum Elizabeth, then 66, said. ‘It’s your Dad. He has bowel cancer.’
Thoughts of sandy beaches faded as I rushed over to my fun-loving dad Eric, then 66.
‘We’ll get through this,’ he promised, taking my hand.
At 32, I loved my social work job and had a flat just 30 minutes from the family home I grew up in.
We’d always been close – Mum, Dad,
