‘My parents died within days of each other – grief killed my mother’

The death of a beloved partner really can age you, says Martha Acevedo, who reveals how her mother was altered by a broken heart

Grief does age you – I saw my parents die within days of each other. I never fully understood the physical toll grief could take on a person until I watched it take rot in my own family. My mum, full of life and vitality, aged decades in six days after losing my dad. It was as though the sorrow of losing him accelerated the ageing process and I saw my mum die of a broken heart. 
My parents had always been a brilliant, inspiring example of enduring love. They met at a party in Lima, Peru, when my mother was just 16 and my father 19. It was love at first sight. “Like a thunderbolt,” my dad used to say. Seven years later, they married, and for the next 62 years they built a life together that was defined by love, mutual respect and an unwavering commitment to each other.
My mother, a nurse specialising in neurology, was the strong matriarch of our family. She was fiercely independent, a quality that was unusual for women of her time. She worked in the hospital, even when society expected her to stay at home and be a mother and wife. “I choose everything in my life,” she used to say, a mantra she lived by and instilled in her four daughters. My father, a journalist who later became the voice of Peru’s electric company, adored her. He would often compliment her, saying, “You look so elegant” whenever she dressed up for an outing. Every time she would come down the stairs after getting ready, he would do a whistle of approval and pretend to drop his keys with the shock of seeing her beauty. Literally, every time! He was such a romantic. 
Our family life was idyllic. I was brought up in Peru. My parents were devoted to each other and to us. Weekends were filled with swimming and hiking together, and my mother was meticulous about our health, insisting we only ate natural food. When we were little, we were never allowed sugar or sweets in our house. She even practised yoga long before it became fashionable, a routine she had followed for as long as I can remember. 
My three sisters and I were given the best possible start in life. My sisters still live in Peru, but I moved to London to be with my husband. I work for a fashion company while he works as a translator. When my husband first met my parents, he said “Ah, now I understand why you’re so loving!” I had learnt from the best.  
My parents were always loving, healthy and happy. Even as they aged they would walk together every day, read the papers together, go to the cinema and the theatre together, always planning a new adventure. 
When Dad was 80, he battled stomach cancer, but my mum nursed him back to health – she gave him the best foods and juices while he went through his treatment. But seven years later, the cancer was back – and this time, it was aggressive. The doctors told us there was little they could do, and my mother, who had always been his rock, took the news hard.
I remember her ringing me in London. “It’s back,” her voice devoid of her usual determination. My father, who had always been so robust, began to fade quickly. He lost weight, his hands trembled, and his voice, once full of authority, grew weak. It was as though he was ageing before my eyes – my vibrant father was slipping away.
But it wasn’t just my father who was affected. My mother, who had always been meticulous about her appearance, began to wilt. Her hair, usually so carefully styled, hung limp. She no longer seemed to care about the small details that had once been so important to her. The stress of caring for my father was taking its toll on her as well.
As my father’s condition worsened, I could see my mother beginning to crumble. One day, she confided in me, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” It was the first time I had ever heard her admit to being overwhelmed. She had always been the strong one, the one who kept everything together. But she was struggling.
My father passed away quietly in his sleep, just two days after that conversation. His death was devastating, obviously, but it was my mother’s reaction that truly broke my heart. She seemed to age overnight. At the funeral, she went to kiss the coffin and said: “I’ll see you soon, my love, very soon.” All four of us sisters literally gasped. “Mum, what are you saying?” But my poor mum, who had always been so full of life, now looked so frail. Less than a week later, she suffered a massive stroke. The doctors told us there was nothing they could do. Six days after we buried my father, we were laying my mother to rest beside him.
Looking back, it’s clear to me that grief was the real cause of her rapid decline. The prospect of living without my dad was simply too much to bear. They had spent over 60 years together, and in the end, I believe she couldn’t bear to be apart from him.
Grief didn’t just weigh on her heart – it accelerated the ageing process, which was both shocking and heartbreaking. 
Losing both of my parents in such a short time has been the hardest experience of my life. The grief is still there, ever-present, but I find solace in the fact that they are together, just as they always were. Their love was extraordinary, and even in death, it remains a powerful reminder of the bonds that define us.
I often reflect on my mother’s words, “Love gives us a better life.” It’s a sentiment that has stayed with me, especially now. That’s the lesson I carry with me every day. It’s a reminder to cherish the ones we love, to hold them close, because in the end, it’s the love that remains, even when time – and grief – do their worst.
As told to Suzy Walker