In February 2009, at just age thirteen, I came home from school and saw my strong Daddy cry for the first time. He was truly heartbroken that he had to tell me and my little sister he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and only six months to live.

In the five and a half years following this, I watched my Daddy struggle openly and bravely, but more importantly I watched him courageously fight to continue making memories with his '3 beautiful girls'.

It has been extremely difficult to reflect on this time. To comprehend how enormous the feelings that little Charlotte felt at an age where her biggest worry should have been whether she'd put her PE kit in a Topshop or Miss Selfridge bag. Though I did still worry about plastic bags, I also worried about how my Dad was coping mentally; whether I'd get home from school and need to call an ambulance; and sometimes consciously but always subconsciously when my Dad was going to die. These feelings, big Charlotte can now label as anticipatory grief and a whole lot of love.

Little Charlotte dealt with these feelings by shouting at my Dad every time he smoked a cigarette or by getting too drunk at house parties and crying in the bathrooms of strangers. Big Charlotte can now see that I just wanted to do anything that would give my Dad more time or for my feelings to be heard.

During these years I also lost my Grandad to cancer and my Grandma 100 days later as she couldn't quite survive without him. Little Charlotte believed that Grandma and Grandad gave up their lives so that her Daddy could have more time. She didn't grieve and continued fighting for her Daddy. Big Charlotte still tends to focus on remembering how Grandad called her the wrong name when he was dying rather than his post-dinner tummy pats, love of Vienetta or the Latvian traditions he taught the family. She's not quite sure why she still believes that Grandma and Grandad are the reason Dad lived for five and a half years instead of 6 months or whether she has ever grieved the loss of her Grandparents, but she knows that with time and spaces like TNN she'll remember Grandma's salon styled hair and Grandad's perfect eyebrows better than their deaths.

Most people have regrets about how they treated their parents as hormonal teenagers and that just because my Dad is dead does not mean I should dwell on this. Of course I wish I'd treated my dad with more kindness and understanding and maxed out every special moment I spent with him. But big Charlotte has learnt that it's not fair to put these perfect expectations on any human who is grieving, never mind little Charlotte. She's learning to give grace to herself as well as little Charlotte. She's focusing on the times when she listened to her Daddy (who most of you will know could chat your ears off) most evenings at the kitchen table, made coupons for them to do different activities together or continued to play the clarinet when she knew he was secretly listening in the garden. To remember our life together before cancer; the happy memories that brightened the skies like rainbows on rainy days during his treatment; and the parts of her and Abi that are him as well as the limitless love that will always remain.

Death has continued to be an all too regular feature in my life. We've said goodbye to most of my Grandma and Grandad's jolly gang; Andy, a gentle family friend with an infectious smile and fantastic taste in music; Ruby, a school friend who supported me in expressing my feelings through art and Claire, a sparkly fairy godmother. Rather than resenting that it feels like I've been handed more than I could often hold, I'm grateful that I've been blessed with so much love and support from the most wonderful people that it never gets easier to say goodbye.

The New Normal is a charity that provides free non-judgemental peer support for adults facing life’s difficult moments, particularly bereavement. With the support of TNN (alongside some 1:1 therapy) over the last few years, I've learnt everything written in italics above. I'm no longer just my grief; it will always be a part of me, but I’ve learnt to grow around it. If there’s one sure thing about life, it’s death. In a country where people are often ashamed to talk about difficult emotions and mental health services are increasingly difficult to access, we need TNN more than ever.

On the 18th May I'll be running the Hackney Half for TNN as a belated 70th birthday present to my Daddy. Please only give what you can (and gift-aid it)!