My Mum's disease has dominated most of my university life, and hence a lot of my growing up too. In between lectures, deadlines, partying and a "normal" student life, I was having to cope with chemotherapy sessions, prescriptions, ever-frequent trips home and trying to be strong for my family. At points I was going home every two weeks just to spend time with her. Remarkably, throughout this entire time, my Mum always put her children and family first. It almost angered her that I would spend so much time away from uni to be with her, and all she wanted was for me to do the best I could with my life and make her proud. 

From diagnosis, we always knew Mum was terminal, but no one can ever give an accurate prognosis, and henceforth I almost tricked myself into thinking she was going to get better and that it wasn't really happening. She didn't. Time dragged, things slowly declined, and then the end came all at one - a two week horror story in a hospice that snatched my beautiful mum away from me and finished at 3:30pm on the 7th June. 

Growing up, I was a classic victim of "my dad's better than your dad syndrome". The most classic of playground arguments, I would endlessly insist to my friends that my dad actually WAS Superman because he built me and my brother a Wendy house from scratch / bought me a Barbie from America with its own dog / had a DIY solution to everything / etc etc. 

I have always been blessed to have a great relationship with both of my parents, who have raised their children in an admirable and idyllic way. Mum would devote her life to keeping a beautiful home and garden for us, running us to hockey practice, ballet lessons and theatre rehearsals and would be present at every single poetry reading/piano performance/school play regardless of how insignificant and irrelevant they were. In many ways, she was a complete Wonderwoman who always unselfishly put her children's lives and needs before her own. My Dad, on the other hand, wasn't present as much - but for good reason. He would work long hours like a Trojan to bring in enough money to support the family and keep us living in the many beautiful countryside homes we have inhabited over the years, eventually managing to build a successful business from scratch that has kept our family in a comfortable and happy lifestyle throughout my teenage years. Their co-parenting has been outstanding, and each has served perfect roles as a guardian too. If it was a broken heart, a friendship squabble or a question about shaving your legs, my Mum was straight there to offer advice, tissues and hugs. If it was a question about money management, essay proof-reading and tenancy agreements, my Dad was a fountain of knowledge - proven invaluable in my university years especially.

While I know how lucky I am to have had a lovely childhood and great relationship with both my parents, I could never predict how much my life - and parents - would change in 2012 when my mum fell ill. Almost overnight, my strong, purposeful and hardworking dad had to stop working for the business he had worked so hard to build, and instead devote his entire life to her daily care. Not only this, but as time went on he suddenly had to become both a mother and a father, rolled into one tired, stressed, and super-busy super-carer package. 

I've always been a Daddy's girl - aided particularly by the fact that I am an only-daughter - but in the past two years my relationship with my Dad has changed beyond all belief. I started offering tit-bits of advice about cooking and laundry, and in exchange Dad now had to be the one I could cry to on the end of the phone when my life 150 miles away at uni wasn't going to plan. He had gone from being present and helpful, to completely involved and learnt in every aspect of my life - suddenly forced to do the unspeakable and buy women's shampoo and toiletries, and listen to his 19-year-old daughter's tales of heart breaks and bruises.

My Dad: the caterpillar who was forced to become a butterfly overnight, has never ceased to surprise me in the last two years. Having previously been a slightly selfish personality, in the sense that he enjoyed his own time to do the things he liked, he is now the single most selfless and devoted person I know. As well as caring for someone who is extremely unwell and all the trials, tribulations and emotions that come with that, he has not compromised on devoting time to remaining a good father. I would never blame him for being unreachable, but remarkably every time something goes wrong and I need someone straight away, he will never turn me away despite how busy he is. 

Nowadays? As time goes on and the family situation worsens, the family unit is its strongest ever. I am so blessed to know that when I need advice, a good ear, a hug or a home-cooked roast dinner, my Dad will do his level best for me, including getting me home quickly wherever in the world I happen to be. He has given me some of the best advice I've ever heard, and always knows just the right thing to say during a particularly irrational and moody 21-year-old mood swing and tsunami of tears and shouting. 

I always thought a Superman dad was one who could lift really heavy things and carry you around on his shoulders, but as I've grown and developed through life, I have realized that his strength, kindness, dependability and friendship are the real superhuman qualities. In a dark situation where most people would be entitled to have a mental breakdown (myself included), my Dad has risen to the occasion and held the fragments of family life together as best as they can be. He's now my old man, best friend and support network all rolled into one. 

And for these reasons I think my Dad probably really is Superman now.