By Lydia Higgins
Some people leave such an indelible mark on your life that even years after they’ve gone their laughter still feels close by. Ten years ago my friend Gabriella Laki died from stomach cancer at Birmingham Hospice where she was lovingly cared for. She was just 25.
A decade on, I can still hear her cackle in my head and see her dancing around the living room.
Gabbie had that rare ability to light up a room simply by being in it. Her energy was infectious, her laughter unmistakable, and she carried a warmth that made people feel instantly at ease.
Although we went to the same primary school, we only really knew each other by name and face back then. Our real friendship began at secondary school, when we discovered we were the only two from our primary starting there. Naturally we gravitated towards each other, and what began as familiarity quickly turned into a friendship that would shape so many of the years that followed.
Even when Gabbie later moved to Essex and spent time living in Norfolk, the bond never changed – though I never let her forget the Essex accent she came back with. When she returned to Birmingham at 16, it was as if no time had passed. Those couple of years before we both left for university are some of my favourite memories: sitting around talking for hours, driving around endlessly with no destination, laughing about nothing and everything. Looking back, those simple moments meant the most.
Music was always part of those times. Gabbie loved dancing and was genuinely captivating, bringing dance floors to life wherever she went. Songs like Flowers by Sweet Female Attitude or Bound 4 da Reload by Oxide & Neutrino still take me straight back to those nights out and carefree drives. Her mum Jose remembers Gabbie dancing at a bus stop in town, completely unaware of the audience she had gathered.
She also had a wonderfully honest and slightly ditzy side: at one point she asked if leprechauns were real – something that still makes me laugh today. And when she excitedly got a dwarf rabbit, imagining the perfect pet, she somehow ended up with the most aggressive rabbit imaginable, which spent most of its time trying to attack her. It was chaos – and still absolutely hilarious.
Family and friends were at the heart of Gabbie’s world. Proud of her Italian heritage, she adored her Nonna and loved bringing people together over food. Her dad Jules, a chef, taught her how to make an incredible pasta sauce, and she took great pride in cooking it for friends – always insisting everyone finished their meal. Weekends in our late teens were often spent at her dad’s restaurant, enjoying endless pasta, cocktails, and conversation.
Though Gabbie sometimes doubted herself, she was endlessly determined. She worked tirelessly for everything she achieved. One of my proudest moments was watching her graduate from Coventry University with a first-class degree in occupational therapy in the city’s cathedral, where she also received a prestigious ‘Hilary Jacob-Lloyd Award’ in recognition of her dedication and passion.
That same determination carried into her career. Gabbie approached her work as an occupational therapist with care, humour, and an effortlessly calm, welcoming nature, with colleagues remembering her as kind, encouraging, and endlessly supportive.
In 2016, when Gabbie was diagnosed with an aggressive form of stomach cancer, she faced it with the courage and spirit that defined her life. In her final weeks, she was looked after by the remarkable team at St Mary’s Hospice, now Birmingham Hospice. They not only treated her with compassion and dignity, but also offered relief from the unbearable pain she endured.
Those days were brightened with small, joyful moments – painting our nails together, watching Harry Potter, and enjoying waffles I had made with the waffle machine I had bought her for Christmas. The care and comfort she received brought solace not just to Gabbie, but to her family and friends during the most difficult times imaginable.
Ten years on, Gabbie’s memory continues to shine in every cackle she shared and every life she touched. To honour her, it would mean a great deal if you could consider donating £10 – £1 for each year since she left us – to Birmingham Hospice, helping other families receive the same care that meant so much to Gabbie and to those who loved her.
Help people with life-limiting conditions receive the care they need by making a donation.
