*The following text was written by my brother, [Stuart Turnbull](http://stuartturnbull.com).*

After about thirteen years with cancer, most of which had been relatively symptom-less and pain-free, my stepfather, Dennis’ condition worsened considerably in a very short time. He began to suffer bouts of intense pain and after being apparently misdiagnosed for a period of time, was eventually admitted to the Pilgrim’s Hospice in Ashford, Kent where he died three weeks later, in the early hours of August 12th, held by people who cared about him and loved him.

My mum was taken by surprise at the severity of his pain when it started back in May and herself became ill as they waited for him to be treated in the A&E department of a different hospital. She was admitted the following day having had a heart attack and has been in recovery in the meantime. So she is now coming to terms with her own mortality, the loss of her companion and partner and the future of life on her own. Given her situation, she is doing remarkably well, she has a strong spirit.

My last conversation with Dennis was about two weeks before he died when both of us acknowledged it wasn’t likely we would see one another again in the same way. My words were about my appreciation of him as a man and member of our family, how much I valued all he brought to us and to Stella in particular, and how his care and consideration of others was an inspiration to me. In his typically self-effacing style he chose not to talk about himself but replied by saying how lucky he’d been to be with my mother and us. He wanted to concentrate on my relationship with Monica, saying he hoped we found happiness together. He gave us his blessing.

His last really big smile was when he heard about our engagement, which happened a few days later, my mum telling him as he began lapsing in and out of consciousness.

Dennis served in the Second World War as a medical orderly and in the infantry, losing many friends and family members during that horrific period. He was not an aggressive man; he was a thinker, writer, artist and calligrapher of merit. He became the chief librarian of the institution then known as the South Bank Polytechnic and had the astonishing capacity to be able to meet you and talk about things you knew something about with ease, often providing you with some references that you might find interesting from his personal collection. A political man, Dennis was concerned with justice and fair treatment and felt strongly about the deterioration of our society and the environment. He loved the outdoors and the sea in particular, so on his retirement he left London and moved to Folkestone where he met Stella, my mother. They loved one another very much and enjoyed their life together for the last twenty years or so, walking the dog, listening to music, being with friends and working as active members of their strong church community. Recently, they worked together to publish a selection of Dennis’ writing which he was rightly proud of and which remains, together with the love so many people felt for him, as part of his life’s memory.

The staff at the Hospice were magnificent, please find ways of supporting hospices if you can as they are entirely funded by voluntary contributions.