My daughter Maisie Emerald Hitchcock passed gently out of this life on the evening of Wednesday August 9th. She was born on the first warm day of the year, April 17th, in Cambridge, and died as night fell in Sussex last week. She had Peritoneal Cancer, a rare form of Ovarian.
Maisie was vital. From the perspective of only three days, I can feel how unique she was: very much her own person with her own take on life. There was no filter between her feelings and the outside world. Her undiluted Maisie-ness and her deep dark eyes gave her a magical charisma which attracted her many friends. She was fiery at times, almost combustible: she didn’t just smoulder – she was an ingot of crimson heat, and so she loved to douse herself in water, swimming in lakes and pools and oceans. Maisie fed on art, music, thought and the wild open air. And comedy: she and I spent many hours together in Python Land, and she introduced me to the Mighty Boosh. I have lost, too, my fellow Ferry connoisseur – we did a *lot* of Bryan Ferry over the decades.
But Maisie also fed on food (she loved her food, so she did), and one of the sad and terrible effects of the cancer that she held at bay for nearly three years (despite being diagnosed with Stage 4 in autumn 2020) was that she could eat less and less.
She remained feisty and optimistic for the longest time, until this summer she bravely faced up to the inevitable and discontinued her chemotherapy treatment. I was glad to be able to visit her most days in her final two months. We had some laughs, some arguments and a lot of philosophy: Mais and I could both wander the labyrinths of the mind for hours.
Almost the last word she said to me was “Pangolin” before she curled away and sank back into her morphine cocoon. My phone revealed this to be an endangered species of anteater, with a scaly dragon tail. Pangolin! I mean – jeez, what an utterance – what way to go…Tears are back in my eyes. Thank you for being my daughter, Mais. You were special, vibrant and lovely.
I’m sending out love to all who loved and cared for Maisie, especially her mum Rosalind and brother Jack. Also the nurses and doctors at the Wiltshaw Ward in the Marsden Hospital in Chelsea and then at St. Peter & St. James Hospice in Sussex.
