I sadly lost my mum to leukaemia almost 9 years ago, so I understand only too well the devastation that such a nasty disease can cause. My mum was first diagnosed when she was 43, and I was 13. I am the youngest of 5 siblings and her diagnosis completely turned our world upside down. I remember distinctly feeling terrified when I heard the word 'cancer', and thinking that the worst thing that could ever happen to me would be for my mum to pass away. Much of my memories from my younger teens involve going to visit my Mum in hospital whilst she underwent 2-3 years of aggressive chemo and radiotherapy. Despite having to put her life, her job and pretty much everything she loved on pause - as well as missing out on lots of our milestones - Mum accepted the hand she'd been dealt with with fierce courage and quiet resolve.

It was a difficult few years for our family to navigate, but, much to our relief, her treatment went well and she went into several years of remission. She was able to get back to being our Mum again and eventually also managed to return to her job as a primary school teacher for a short time. Unfortunately, when I was in first year of university, she had a check up appointment and the doctors informed her that she would need to receive a bone marrow transplant (or stem cell transplant) otherwise the leukaemia would come back. Again, I felt terrified about what this meant, and heartbroken for her and us that we weren't finished with this horrible ordeal.

My mum underwent more aggressive treatment in preparation for her transplant, which she received in February 2013. What followed this was a year of setbacks, complications, desperate hope and disappointment. She spent the majority of time in the hospital, poorly from infections and unable to come home due to the danger of catching something else and hindering the chances of the transplant further still. That Christmas, her consultant allowed her to come home just for the day, and it was one of the best Christmases we ever had. Unfortunately, not long after that, her consultant delivered the news we feared - that the transplant hadn't taken and the leukaemia had returned aggressively. Following this my mum went into palliative care and died in May 2014, when she was just 50 years old.

My mum's illness cut her life far too short, and meant that she missed out on so much of our past and future lives. It had a devastating effect on my family and shaped me and my brothers into the adults we are today.She was the strongest and bravest person I will ever know and never showed any anguish about what was happening to her - not once voicing that she felt it was unfair, even though it so desperately was.

My mum was my best friend, and I still feel lost without her most days. She was fearless, inspiring, incredibly kind and unconditionally loving, taking everything life threw at her with a great sense of humour and unwavering coverage. I'm running in her memory, with hopes to raise funds for research and support that will help other individuals and families who are also going through something so life altering. Any support we received throughout the years, from friends, family, doctors, care workers and charities was an incredible help to us.