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We’ve lost the heart of our family

Devastated by the death of her terminally ill husband last year, Davina Robinson, 53, has found a chink of hope in the love that surrounds her

The dining room always used to be the busiest room in my house. If we weren't eating together as a family, the kids would be doing their homework or sitting chatting with their friends. When my husband, Melvin, 58, became very ill in 2007 and couldn't get upstairs, the dining room became his bedroom. That was when it was at its most bustling; there was always a steady stream of visitors coming to see me and 'Papa Bear', as he was called by our two sons, Lewis, now 30, and Liam, 27, and the many kids we'd fostered over the years.

I first met Melvin in 1978 at a dance in Scotland. A US Marine, who had fought in the Vietnam War, he was gorgeous, funny and interesting. We hit it off and after only a few hours of chatting, he told me he wanted to marry me. In August 1979, Lewis was born and in November 1980, we got married. Then, the following December, Liam was born. We lived all over the world as Melvin was in the military but, in November 1986, we came back to Scotland to settle. He got another job working for a US clothing company, while I started work in a hospital laboratory, and we also began fostering children with special needs. Melvin and I did everything together and were equal partners in running the home and caring for all the kids.

Everything was perfect until mid-1994 when Melvin collapsed at work and was rushed to St John's Hospital, Edinburgh. He'd had a heart attack and had to have emergency surgery. Although we were assured he'd make a full recovery after, he didn't. Instead, he became increasingly weary and eventually had to give up work.
Medication and further operations followed, then, in 1995, Melvin was diagnosed with diabetes and chronic hepatitis C, an infectious disease that affects the liver. There was nothing more that could be done. We were told he'd only live for a few more years.

I gave up work in 2001 to become Melvin's full-time carer. By 2007, he was immobile and we adapted the house, building a bathroom downstairs and turning 
the dining room into a bedroom. In October 2008, he became desperately ill and was taken into the Marie Curie hospice, Edinburgh. His liver and kidneys had failed and I thought it was the end. The hospice staff were fantastic; they got Melvin's pain under control, looking after his every need, until he was well enough to come home. When Melvin was discharged, Marie Curie also organised for nurses to come to our home twice a week to do a night shift so I could sleep. It was such a relief to know there was help on hand.

They continued to come to our home, offering both a shoulder to cry on as well as care, until May last year, when Melvin died of multiple organ failure. I felt as though the heart of our family had been ripped out, but I know how lucky I was to have shared the love I did with Melvin and to have built the family we have.
I'm still in touch with the hospice and I'm hoping to devote some time to volunteering there in future. I want to give something back to them and I know it'll help me find my feet again.