‘No parent should lose a child the way I did’
A mother’s moving story about her beloved daughter
The night before my daughter Hester died, we went out for a family meal. I hadn’t seen her for a while as she had been busy with her university cheerleading squad and celebrating her 21st birthday with friends, so I insisted she sat next to me so we could catch up. We hugged and I told her how proud she made me – she was a second year medical student at the University of Sussex, and was one of the most caring and intelligent people I knew. She held my hand and told me I was the best mum in the world. Hester had to leave earlier than everyone else because she had a job in a bar and I felt uncharacteristically sad that she had to go. Looking back, it’s almost as if I knew I would never see her again.
My 21 years with Hester were filled with so much joy. She grew up in Lewes, East Sussex, with me, her dad Alan, her three siblings and our spaniels. She was artistic and loved taking part in drama productions. In her teens, she had dyedblonde hair and, although ditsy and always losing things, Hester was incredibly bright. She struggled to decide whether to pursue science or art, but her passion for helping people pushed her into medicine.
The university wasn’t far from where we lived, so I would often pick her up and we’d have dinner together and snuggle up watching romcoms like Clueless or 27 Dresses. Hester was so affectionate and warm – she baked for the homeless, and that summer she planned to volunteer with the blind. She had a heart of gold.
I was so proud of my daughter. Only that week I had been pondering how lucky I was; everything had been going so well with my career as a healthcare practitioner and author and I had the most wonderful family.
DEVASTATING NEWS
In April 2009, I was cooking and singing along to the radio when there was a knock at the door from the police. They told me the terrible news that Hester had died and I went into a tunnel of disbelief. Hearing that news is every mother’s worst nightmare. My world came crumbling down – I wanted to curl up and beg the universe to take me instead.
I was later told that Hester had died from taking the ‘legal high’ GBL, a substance also used as paint stripper. She had been at a university awards dinner and her friend had given her a small quantity of the drug. Coupled with the few drinks she had consumed that evening, it shut down her respiratory system and she stopped breathing.
I had never even heard of legal highs. I always thought ‘legal’ meant natural and safe, but the reality was far from it
‘It’s almost as if I knew I wouldn’t see her again’
and these drugs were lethal. I soon discovered these substances had been banned in other countries, and several had run awareness campaigns to inform people that
GBL and alcohol was a deadly combination. I felt certain that had Hester known the dangers of consuming the drug, she never would have taken it. She adored living and she had so much ahead of her. I realised the only way I could come to terms with my daughter’s death was to try to prevent this from happening to other young people.
I have always worked in health, with a wellness column in a newspaper and a show on TV, so luckily I was able to attract a lot of attention and support. I founded the Angelus Foundation (now merged with the charity Mentor) in Hester’s memory, with a board of medical experts and advisers, with the goal of raising awareness about legal highs. I wanted young people to understand that ‘legal’ doesn’t mean ‘safe’ and therefore make informed decisions. We went into schools and universities and talked to young people and their parents who, like me, were completely oblivious to this growing problem.
Alongside raising awareness, my principal aim was to have GBL and other similar substances banned once and for all. I met with Cabinet members and continued to fight until temporary banning orders were finally put in place. But the problem didn’t stop there – as soon as the ban was put in place for a particular substance, the chemists who made the drugs tweaked the molecules and introduced a new, similar drug that same week. Finally, in 2016, the Psychoactive Substances Act that we proposed came into force, shutting down retailers selling these drugs.
HELPING OTHERS
It has been nearly nine years since Hester’s death, and it doesn’t get easier. She would have been 30 now and sometimes I wonder what she’d be doing, what she’d be like. Her birthday and the anniversary of her death are particularly difficult, but when I feel the darkness taking over, I make myself be grateful for the years I had with her. I’ve got those memories to treasure and no one can take them away from me.
In December 2017, I was awarded a British Empire Medal for my efforts in campaigning to keep young people safe. It was an honour, but it was hard to celebrate because my journey to receiving it was filled with so much devastation and grief. But I feel so proud that I was able to achieve this in Hester’s name; hopefully I’ve saved lives just as she would have done as a doctor.
We live in a strange world where you don’t know what’s going to happen.
You have to be grateful every day for what you have; I still have three children and two grandchildren who I love dearly; I am doing what I love, helping women with the menopause (maryonstewart. com). I feel so blessed to be able to change people’s lives. I know that Hester would have been doing the same.
‘She adored living and she had so much ahead of her’