TV Presenter Laura Jackson Mourns Her ‘Darling Dad’ at 75, Recalls His Final Days with Cancer

TV presenter Laura Jackson has announced her ‘darling dad’ has passed away aged 75 following a cancer battle.

The Take Me Out: The Gossip star, 39, took to Instagram on Tuesday morning to reveal their family had watched her father David had died on Saturday night, writing: ‘I will never not unsee you leaving us’. 

In an emotional post comprising a number of photos and videos of her dad, she penned a lengthy caption describing her dad’s passing, praising him and painfully detailing the depth of her grief just days after his death. 

Laura revealed David suffered Mesothelioma, a type of cancer that develops from the thin layer of tissue that covers many of the internal organs. The area most commonly affected is the lining of the lungs and chest wall. 

In her heartbreaking post, she wrote: ‘My darling dad. The last five months have been the hardest of my entire life… I’ve felt like an iceberg – trying to hold it all together on the surface, trying to carry on through life…

‘But beneath the surface has sat the depth of my grief, waiting for the moment it would finally break through – but I don’t think I even believed the moment would actually come. This has been so painful. We watched you die on Saturday night…

‘I will never not unsee you leaving us – they said it would be peaceful but all I have is pain, loss and such sadness. There is nothing peaceful about the fact you are not here, dad…

‘You were the one person – along later with Jon – who loved me unconditionally. You embraced my floors, celebrated my strongness and shouted about any achievements. That time I was the voice of foxy bongo and the whole of Sheffield knew…

‘You were so proud of me. I got it all from you. You were entrepreneurial, entertaining and your zest for life was infectious…

‘I used to get so annoyed with you wanting to know every facet of my life…

‘From the dentist appointments to what I had watched on telly, but as I got older I began to truly understand, the care and love for Anna and I – and all your family – was beyond comprehension…

‘Our cruise – your travel vessel of choice – gave us date nights, cherry negronis, and endless fun. That last holiday meant so much to you…

‘Dad, it’s so hard. This is so hard. You loved me like no one else and never judged me. You knew I was mad and you celebrated/tolerated that. I just found out you and Anna had a nickname for me; whirlwind…

‘You were born in November 1949, and lived a very happy 75 years of life. You have worked hard all your life, but boy did you know how to have a good time – I’ve never known anyone consume as much alcohol as you…

‘You had three daughters, a step daughter and 10 grandchildren. You loved, in no particular order; cruises, wine (with a particular penchant for chapel down), solitaire, piping hot food, Saturday kitchen, Sheffield Wednesday (we’re all Wednesday)…

‘Facebook, pornstar martinis, midsomer murders, cups of (hot) tea, cooking, two pound coins, marzipan fruits. But most of all dad, you loved your family. You loved us all so much…

‘The last few weeks were so hard when the Mesothelioma tried to take charge, you were so brave and so strong. It’s been a privilege to be your daughter. I feel so sad, I really don’t know how to live my life without you….

‘Things will never be the same again. I love you so much, I miss you so so much already xxxxxxx fantastico xxxxxxxx’.