BBC Spotlight television presenter Amy Cole lost her mum, Lyn Cole, to cancer earlier this year.

She was just a week off her 65th birthday when her battle with bowel cancer came to an end.

Amy writes candidly about the last month of her mum's life when she was admitted to North Devon Hospice.

She said:"Losing my beloved mum has been a shattering experience – my heart is broken.

"My mum had fought an ongoing battle with bowel cancer, and although it may sound naïve, I never really entertained the idea that she would actually die from it.

"So determined was she to put on a brave face, to smile through the pain and the dull ache of her tumour that she had me fooled.

"She made me believe she was going to win – she had to believe she was going to win, otherwise what's the point?

"Christmas Day: more than four years of fighting progressive cancer with aggressive treatment had taken its toll; she was exhausted, suffering, scared.

"My sister and I called the doctor who called North Devon Hospice.

"Boxing Day: one of the most difficult days of my life. Mum, trying to protect us to the end, wanted my sister and I to realise the relief she felt at being taken to a safe haven; we felt like we'd just deserted the most important person in our lives.

"What followed was a month long emotional roller coaster which will shape my future forever.

"Mum was really very sick indeed when she arrived at the hospice and she felt guilty about calling the staff for help.

"But she soon became more comfortable about it because they became her friends.

"They made it their mission to get to know mum as a person, and above all else that attitude impressed me the most.

"My mum had (and I hate writing about her in the past tense, it doesn't seem fair) always been a strong, independent and very confident character.

"Cancer stripped that away – it tried to humiliate her. The staff at the hospice returned some of that confidence; they exposed my mum's sparkly personality which had been suppressed for so long.

"Time is always such a scarce commodity, but at the hospice there was always plenty of it.

"They would listen to mum about her days living in Dubai, adopting my sister and I, the careers we now have.

"And I know she made them watch BBC Spotlight, especially when I was presenting the news.

"The staff asked my sister and me to bring in a few photos that meant something to mum, to pin on a cork board at the end of her bed.

"They were keen to make sure that her room wasn't a sterile, magnolia walled, locked-down environment, but her own space, occupied by her personality.

"They treated her with such dignity. Too weak to walk they made no drama of bed-bathing.

"Mum of old would have recoiled in horror at the thought, but the sheer strength of human kindness made it easier for her to deal with.

"During that month, mum had a slight reprieve when she appeared to regain some sense of self. I relished those few, precious days and will treasure them for the rest of my life.

"It was an opportunity for me to have a laugh with mum, to gossip, for her to tell me off about not making time for a relationship. She was being mum, and I loved every minute.

"Then things changed, and the nail-in-the-coffin conversations with the doctors really began. Two weeks to live? Perhaps. Then, maybe just a week – cruelly downgraded to days.

"I found it a bitter blow that mum had finally been forced to accept that her life was slipping away.

"Sometime on the morning of January 27, cancer won.

"I remember rushing into her room – it was so calm. Mum was serene, at peace. Her war was over.

"Four days before she died she painstakingly dictated a letter to me that I was to read at my sister's wedding later in the year.

"Her voice was barely a whisper, but her intent was as strong as an ox.

"You see, mum never forgot her duties as a mother, and her role as a human being.

"So grateful for the care and attention she had received at the hospice, she was adamant to give something back and left a generous donation.

"To mum it was small fry, the very least she could do when the chips were down.

"I have often thought of this particular paradox: mum went to North Devon Hospice not to die, but to live.

"Fleeting as it was, she clawed back some of the Lyn Cole she had lost along the way; the woman she used to be.

"With her pain under control, meals taken care of, her fears discussed, she could, fractionally, live again.

"An interesting observation you might think. To me it was worth a million dollars."