I’ll be thinking about Dad every step of the way: Joe’s story

Running the London Marathon isn’t something I ever thought I’d do again. But this year, fifteen years after my first marathon, I’ll be standing on the start line for a very different reason – to remember my dad, Roger, and to raise money for Sue Ryder, who cared for him in the final days of his life.

I’m running because I want to give something back. And because, in so many ways, this marathon has become a way of keeping my dad close.

My dad was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 2016. By 2018, the cancer had spread to his lungs, bones and brain. He had brain surgery that year to remove tumours, and for a while, we were hopeful.

However, that Christmas, Dad suffered a stroke. I remember sitting in a hospital meeting when doctors started talking about palliative care. We understood the words, but emotionally, we were lost. We walked out thinking, 'What on earth has just happened?' 'Where do you even go from here?'

Sue Ryder Duchess of Kent Hospice was mentioned, and brilliantly for us all, they had a place for Dad. I think what really blew my mind at that point is, well, who's paying for this? How does that work?

But I didn’t ask many more questions because at that moment, we were just grateful for the support.

I honestly don’t know where we would have been without the hospice.

Knowing there were people there 24 hours a day, not just professionals doing a job, but people who genuinely cared, meant everything. Things moved at a gentler pace than in hospital. We could ask questions in our own time. There was space to breathe.

Mum went from being Dad’s full-time carer back to being his wife again. Dad built relationships with the staff, who looked after him and that mattered. He trusted them, and he didn’t give his trust easily.

The hospice team even supported Dad to come home for a while. When his condition worsened and he realised he needed to return to the hospice, they managed to bring him back to the very same room. That meant more than I can describe.

In his final moments, we were all there together at his bedside. It was unimaginably hard, but also comforting. If it had to happen, that’s how we would have wanted it to be.

It was only later that I began thinking about how palliative care is funded. I almost felt guilty; guilty that Dad had been lucky enough to receive such incredible care, knowing that most hospice services rely on donations.

That’s when I knew I wanted to give something back. Running felt like the right way to do that.

I’m not a regular runner. I ran the London Marathon 15 years ago, and honestly, I never imagined I’d do another. But this felt different. This felt important.

My dad was a sprinter when he was younger, he even made the local paper, so maybe there’s something genetic in this. However, for me, this marathon isn’t about times or proving anything. This time, I want to enjoy it.

Training started in Spain, a place filled with memories of family holidays. We used to spend six to eight weeks there every summer, and it reminds me so much of Dad.

He was fun-loving, always at the centre of a joke or a bit of mischief. Running there felt like running alongside him.

In September, I ran the Great North Run in 2 hours 15 minutes. I eased off a bit over Christmas, but from January I properly got back into training. I’m now running up to 15 miles and every run gives me time to think.

This year is particularly emotional. I’m getting married just a couple of months after the marathon. Knowing Dad won’t be there is something that weighs heavily on me. But training has given me time to reflect to keep him involved in this chapter of my life.

In a strange way, running has become a space for remembering.

I’ve raised around £5,800 so far, which is far more than I ever expected. What’s surprised me most is how many people have reached out to say, 'I’ve been there. I know what it’s like.'

We don’t talk about death and grief enough. If sharing my story has helped someone feel less alone, that means everything.

On marathon day, I’ll be joined by my mum, my partner Simon, my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece and a group of friends. I’m looking forward to finishing; that’s the main thing. Running down The Mall will be incredibly special.

For the final seven minutes of the run, I’ll be listening to Bohemian Rhapsody - Dad’s favourite. We used to sing it every Christmas, doing air guitar around the dining table. It’s a family anthem now.