When the light dims.

A tribute to my incredible friend and fearless Substack writer, Allyson Kent

In memory of Allyson, with love to her family, friends, and Substack friends too.

TW – this piece talks about cancer and grief, so please only read if you feel ok to do so,

Out on my Saturday morning walk with the dog I was thinking about you. Taking pictures as always, finding slithers of sunlight sliding through the trees as I climbed the steep rocky path, slimy with wet leaves, and struggling to find a grip.

This had become a bit of an obsession over the last few months, trying to find light in the dark, and capturing it, evidence that somewhere light continues to shine if you look hard enough.

As I rounded the corner at the top, I remember you pausing here for breath, leaning against this very wall, just 7 months prior, and laughing that walks in Beverley were so much flatter than the hills of Holmfirth.

We carried on but took it slowly and enjoyed it, sucking in fresh March morning air, reaching more level paths alongside the river, the water dappled with spring light and chatting away as we always did.

Out on our walk just months ago, the same path I was walking that day

It was just beyond that river, up another rocky path, after catching the view across the wide fields with sheep grazing that I reached the green bench and paused to sit.

I just wanted to rest, to breathe away the heaviness in my chest and to try and regulate the throbbing in my head. For weeks and then days I’d waited for the inevitable news, and upon taking out my phone, there it was, from her daughter, a simple message;

‘Mum passed away this morning.’

Tears fell as I looked to the sky searching for her, ‘Oh Allyson where are you now?’ I almost fully expected to see her smiling face and say, ‘I’m here, I’m travelling, just like we talked about.’

Because Allyson knew it was coming.

When I’d visited her in the hospice just 10 days prior, she’d been frightened. Despite years of cancer treatment, the end of the road still came as a massive shock, to her, and us.

How could this be happening to someone so full of life, who had so much more that she wanted to do, who had such passion and energy, more than I knew most well people to have?

But that’s the thing about cancer, it’s undiscriminating, cruel, and unfair.

I’d hugged her and told her not to be scared. I’d held her hand and we’d talked about it being a new place to travel, a new mountain to climb, a new community to start a Parkrun with ( the thing she’d fallen in love with since starting to run after she was diagnosed).

Allyson is/was the bravest, most positive person I’ve ever known who lit up a room with her smile and infectious energy.

You may know that when she went back into hospital a few months ago, she began writing on Substack here, prolifically.

She wrote 57 posts in the end in just 6 weeks, talking about what she was going through, what was helping her, the funny moments, and the heart-breaking moments. It was brutally honest, but never in a negative way.

She spoke about what she could do, way more than what she couldn’t.

When she came out of hospital she came along to the Heart Leap group, for one last time, another group that was important to her, she’d met many of the writers from it at the Alnwick Story Fest earlier this year and had absolutely loved listening to all the authors there who inspired her to get writing, subsequently reading their pieces and supporting them on the platform.

Allyson at Alnwick Story Fest with us this year, she loved it so much

She joined my own writing club too, and loved coming up with new creative writing ideas for her stories, and sharing them in the group.

Writing is what got her through those scary, uncertain moments as they kept trying new options to give her more time.

The stories she told in her writing, continued her legacy of trying to make a difference, to the people still receiving treatment and the many that will in the future.

Being a nurse for decades herself, she knew the language used when speaking to patients was so important, and yet at times during her treatment over the years, misjudged words were used that left a lasting impact.

This led her to creating a film - Know the Power of Words (KPOW) with the backing of Macmillan and the Cancer Alliance, to educate medical professionals further and was launched in Hull Truck Theatre to an audience of nurses and doctors.

The hope is that this film will tour, and that things will change in the future, because it really needs to. Find KPOW here, along with more information about why and how it was produced by the Cancer Alliance.

Whilst I was at the hospice, her physio doctor came to see her, and had just watched Allyson’s film. She took her hand and said, ‘I know who you are now, before all this.’

And just that sentence meant so much to Allyson, and had me filling up, because so often at the end of people’s lives we see the just the illness and the struggles, not the person they once were, and yet that is what they want the most, to be remembered for who they really were, before the illness took over.

The power in that sentence the physio said was not lost on me, it was exactly what Allyson needed to hear, so simple, yet so important and a perfect example of what Allyson had been campaigning for.

Allyson wanted people to remember what she had achieved, not only the above, but raising thousands for charity and setting up her own this year, called Yes I can, (always her mantra) encouraging people who have been through cancer treatment to focus on what they can do and supporting them to make that change through a coaching programme of support and resources.

This work will go on, with her daughter looking after the charity.

We’d talked through many ideas for her charity, including a wellbeing A-Z walk, after using her Instagram platform to talk through all the things that had supported her to keep positive and support her mental wellbeing. You can see those videos here.

Allyson was also fanatical about Parkrun and it brought her so much joy being a part of the Beverley Westwood Parkrun community. She’d begun running through the 5K your way campaign, part of the @moveagainstcancercharity, and as always was such an inspiration to that community too.

She also collaborated with Patient’s Voice, sharing her experience to improve services, and raised both money and awareness for the @ovacomecharity, making sure that people knew what the symptoms of ovarian cancer were to help make sure women got diagnosed earlier.

And of course she joined our WOW Team (the small business accountability membership I co-founded with Clair years ago to support small business owners in achieving their goals), connecting instantly with many of our members, encouraging them to go for it and declared she’d found her tribe.

I’m sure I will have missed many more things out, she did so much to help others, and I knew it gave her so much satisfaction to be involved in all of these things, to try and make a difference, which she undoubtedly did.

So this is the legacy Allyson will leave behind, but another important thing she wanted to be remembered for was her smile, which was unwavering, even through the tears.

That is what I will remember most; her smile, her spirit, her endless positivity and her sheer determination to stand up for the cancer community and what she believed in.

Five minutes after I received the text message, I walked past the church and down the road to home, and at one point, right in front of me was the most perfect white feather. I smiled and whispered to the sky, ‘Is this you?,’ then picked it up and put it in my pocket for safe keeping.

Grief is a weird sensation, as with many situations in my life my go-to response is to bury it down,  to try and relieve the pain, but as I get older, and more friends and family are lost, it’s getting harder to do that, and it’s swirling in waves around me. I feel lost, discombobulated (we both loved that word), at sea, and the only way I know how to process really is to write, just like she did.

I can’t shake the Cold Play song Everglow, which totally reminds me of her. She leaves an ever glow behind, that I’m clinging on to.

I hear her voice; she’s everywhere and yet gone. I feel hungry for comfort, but can’t work out where that will be. I feel empty and yet annoyed at myself, wanting to get on with things, to not waste time.

Her situation taught me more than ever that time is short on this Earth, I know this and that’s why I work as frantically as I do, because I’ve been there once and I don’t want to be there again, and yet the energy is hard to find right now.

We said we were long-lost spiritual sisters; we thought the same way, had many, many ideas and what’s app messages sharing our plans into the night, and now it is my job, along with the many whose lives she touched, and her family to make sure they come to fruition, she deserves that at the very least.

Allyson may be gone down here, but I know I will meet her in another place, wherever that may be. Her affirmation was to always ‘Believe,’ in true Ted Lasso style (she loved that show, as do I), and that belief is what made her so strong and carried her through.

I have to, and choose to believe that we will meet again, that anything is possible, just as she did. Anything else is unimaginable.

In the meantime, she will be my lifetime guide, and I know whenever I have doubts, her voice will be there saying, ‘Yes You Can.,’ and she won’t let me get away with believing otherwise.

So for now, rest my beautiful friend, you worked bloody hard, and I hope we do you proud in carrying everything you achieved forwards.

Thank you for everything you did, everything you are and will continue to be to the many who loved you.

With love and light,

Juliet x

Ps If you would like to donate in memory of Allyson’s amazing, fearless writing, to her charity, please get in touch via the comments below and I’ll let you know when the donation section is ready on her website, thank you.