A Woman Impossible To Forget
A Woman Impossible To Forget
In memory of Eve Northcote
There are some people whose lives you know will leave a mark on yours long after they're gone.
Eve Northcote is one of those people.
It's difficult to find words meaningful enough to capture someone who lived with such courage, generosity and joy. Someone whose story touched the lives of so many others, was endlessly thoughtful and almost always thinking of someone else.
Several months after her passing, I often find myself thinking about the way she chose to live. She was a woman who discovered extraordinary hope and courage in the middle of something extraordinarily challenging.
Cancer took many things from Eve's life, but it never took the very best parts of who she was. It never took her generosity, her joy, her infectious smile and her laugh that would fill a room.
I was fortunate enough to know Eve for only a small chapter of her life. There are family and friends who knew and loved her for decades and who hold countless stories and memories of her. What I can share is the Eve I had the privilege of knowing, and the mark she left on my life in those few short years.
Eve, this is a tribute to your life and the legacy you've left behind.
Where our story began
I first met Eve in 2023. She was introduced to me by another client and reached out about working with me inside a program I was running at the time.
One afternoon we jumped on a Zoom call. Ever so Eve, she came prepared with thoughtful questions and wanted to understand exactly what she was signing up for. By the end of the conversation, she'd decided to jump on board.
None of us knew then how significant that first conversation would become.
Over the next few years, we worked together in a number of programs. At every session, I'd watch Eve take what we'd discussed and put it into practice. She would come back with fresh insights, new revelations and thoughtful questions that took our conversations even deeper.
She had this interesting combination of intellect and intuition. She loved learning and understanding how things worked, but she also wasn't afraid to trust what she sensed deep down.
Often, a day or two after a session, I'd receive a voice message from her. Sometimes she'd be soaking in the spa under the stars, excitedly sharing another revelation she'd had or a new connection she'd made after sitting with what we'd talked about. Those voice notes always made me smile. Eve loved growing.
She was always on time and fully present. In group programs, she naturally drew other women into conversation, asking thoughtful questions and encouraging them to share too.
A reason our paths crossed
Around six months before Eve's diagnosis, I felt God quietly prompting me to become more open about my faith.
Up until then, it was something I shared privately with clients if it naturally became part of the conversation. I was hesitant to make it a more visible part of my work.
Looking back now, I can see that God was preparing me long before I understood why.
Our own family had already been walking through the devastating diagnosis of my Dad. Back in 2021, he had been given just six months to live, with no treatment options available. Yet at the time of Eve's diagnosis, 4 years later, he was still living a full and healthy life.
Throughout those years, we had experienced so many moments of God's provision. New treatment options became available that hadn't existed before. The right people seemed to appear at the right time. Time and time again, we had this inexplicable sense that we weren't walking the road alone.
When Eve shared her diagnosis with me, I knew there was a reason we had been brought together all those months ago.
I was able to share the hope our family had found for Dad's healing, but also the hope we'd found in knowing God was with us in the uncertainty. That even when we didn't know what was ahead, we weren't navigating it alone.
I shared Dad's story with Eve as one example of why we still had reason to hope. From there, she went on to find many more stories of people who had lived beyond their prognoses and experienced outcomes that seemed impossible.
That belief in her healing stayed with her right until her final days.
In the months that followed her diagnosis, Eve's extraordinary courage became impossible to miss.
In times of immense uncertainty - waiting for scan results, facing setbacks, navigating another unexpected turn - she carried a supernatural peace. The kind of peace many of us struggle to find when facing a fraction of what she was facing.
When disappointing scan results came, she allowed herself to feel the disappointment, but she never stayed there. She would gather herself, pray and come back again to what she had chosen to believe - that she would be healed.
Setbacks never made her cynical. She continued believing for healing in the face of impossible odds.
When we jumped on a call together, I'd ask how she'd been spending her day. She'd casually mention she'd spent the afternoon on the phone encouraging someone else who was struggling. Or she'd made a meal for a friend. Or she'd spent time sharing everything she'd learned about treatment with someone she'd never even met.
Her diagnosis never became permission to turn inward, cancer never took her generosity.
Eve could have easily become consumed by everything she was facing, but she was the opposite. She radiated joy.
She found so much joy in the ordinary moments of life - tending to her vegetable garden, going for a run or bike ride down the road, sitting in the spa under the stars or in the sunshine with her journal.
She was completely present for those moments, despite carrying so much uncertainty in the background. Watching her live this way challenged me and inspired me to do the same.
In times of disappointment and setback, the support her newfound faith gave her was clear to see. She found so much comfort in prayer and rest in her relationship with God. Her faith didn't take away the uncertainty, but it gave her something to hold onto in the middle of it.
Somewhere along the way our coaching relationship grew into a genuine friendship.
I loved talking to Eve about her garden, and what was growing, the different modalities and latest integrative medicine discoveries she had.
We enjoyed sharing with each other the unique and often supernatural ways God was showing up in our lives as an encouragement to one another. We shared special moments of prayer together. I hold these conversations close to my heart.
Her story was never just about her
Several months after her diagnosis, Eve felt she wanted to share her experience more publicly.
We went on to record two podcast episodes together, where she openly shared what she was learning about cancer treatments and protocols, but importantly, also talked about her faith and how this had become such a source of strength, comfort and safety for her through the uncertainty of serious illness.
Those two conversations have since become the most downloaded episodes on my podcast.
They've brought hope to people living with cancer and to families supporting loved ones through cancer, but Eve's story went beyond cancer. It encouraged people to have hope and faith in the face of seemingly impossible circumstances.
I've received countless emails and messages from people whose lives have been touched by her story. People who found faith, or reconnected with it, because of what Eve shared. I've been stopped while out and about by people wanting to tell me how someone in their family had been supported from afar by Eve's episodes, or how information she shared helped them find new avenues to explore.
Her impact has been far-reaching.
And that was always Eve's heart.
Her diagnosis wasn't just about what she could learn to help herself. She wanted what she was learning to help other people too. She gave her time generously, got on the phone with people, shared what she'd learned and made herself available to others walking a similar road.
Eve wanted to record those episodes so that everything she was learning would create hope for someone else.
That is legacy.
Midway through Eve's journey, we celebrated what felt impossible.
Her scan results showed no evidence of cancer.
It was an incredible moment.
Eve went on to share that part of her story publicly because, as always, she wanted what she was experiencing to give hope to someone else.
In August 2025, we held an event together where Eve shared her story and the faith that had grown through everything she'd walked through.
I remember looking around the room and seeing so many of her friends there, standing with her. There was a real sense of reverence in the room as we reflected on all that Eve had walked through and how far she had come.
We hoped this would be the end of Eve's cancer story.
Sadly, it wasn't.
Several months later, the cancer returned.
Sometimes we pray and believe with everything we have, and the outcome is different from the one we believed for.
Eve's journey in this life came to an end in April 2026.
Five months earlier, our family had faced the passing of our Dad. We didn't see the complete healing we had prayed for in his body either.
But at the end of his life, Dad had found a deep sense of peace. He knew where he was going. He believed that beyond this life was a place where suffering would end, where he would be safe and well with his Heavenly Father.
Eve had found that same assurance.
And yet, for those of us left behind, there is still grief and there are still questions.
How do we make sense of this?
How do we make sense of Eve's passing when she had such strong faith that she would be well?
I know this part of Eve's story has left many people with difficult questions, especially because she believed so deeply that she would be healed.
I've wrestled with those questions too.
I don't pretend to have every answer. I don't know why some prayers are answered in the way we hope for and others aren't. I don't know why we saw what appeared to be complete healing, only for the cancer to return.
There are parts of Eve's story I don't understand.
But there are things I still believe.
I don't believe God caused Eve's suffering or that sickness was ever His intention for us. And I don't believe He abandoned her in it. I believe He walked alongside her through every moment and ultimately welcomed her home.
We wanted Eve's healing to happen here. We wanted more years with her. She wanted to live. She had more she wanted to do here.
The fact that we didn't see that healing here is deeply painful, and I don't want to attempt to wrap Eve's journey up in a neat explanation.
But my faith tells me that cancer and death weren’t the end of Eve's story.
While our prayers for healing weren't answered in the way we hoped for here on earth, I believe the healing we so desperately wanted to see here became complete in heaven. The moment Eve stepped into eternity, every trace of sickness was gone, she was healed.
That doesn't take away the deep sadness of losing her. But it gives me immense comfort to know that she is fully restored and now experiencing the wholeness, peace and fullness of life with God.
And for those of us who share that faith, this goodbye isn't forever. In the midst of our grief, there is comfort in knowing that we will see her again.
But even with these convictions, there are still questions I’ve wrestled with.
The bruises of believing
I've wondered whether believing so boldly for Eve's healing somehow made the disappointment harder. Would it have hurt less if we hadn't allowed ourselves to believe so fully that healing was possible?
Maybe.
But I keep coming back to this.
I'd rather carry the bruises that sometimes come from believing than spend my life never believing at all.
I'd rather pray impossible prayers than decide before I've even begun that God couldn't do it.
I'd rather continue believing that God still heals today, just as He did throughout Scripture, even if that means sometimes carrying the heartbreak of prayers not unfolding the way I'd hoped.
I don't want to protect myself from disappointment by living with lowered expectations of what God can do.
And when I think about Eve, I don't believe she would have wanted it any other way.
Her faith wasn't a denial of reality. She knew exactly what she was facing, but she chose to trust God in the middle of it.
"I'm choosing to believe that God will heal me. I'm trusting Him."
Those were words she came back to again and again.
I don't believe Eve's faith was wasted.
Her faith gave her hope when there was every reason to despair. It gave her courage to keep showing up. It gave her peace when her circumstances gave her very little reason to feel peaceful.
It lifted her eyes beyond cancer and reminded her that this life was never the whole story.
If I learned anything from Eve, it's that faith isn't only about believing for the outcome we hope for. Sometimes it's about discovering the peace and closeness with God that sustains us whatever the outcome may be.
Eve's faith wasn't a denial of her reality.She knew exactly what she was facing, yet she chose to trust God in the middle of it.
In the end, the faith Eve had carried throughout her illness gave her peace when she realised her time here was coming to an end.
A few days before Eve died - and just days before I would give birth to our baby boy - she sent me one last message.
She told me she had found peace and acceptance that her time had come to an end.
And then, ever so Eve, she turned the conversation back to encouraging me.
She told me she'd find my Dad in heaven and that together they would look down on me and our new baby boy.
It's the last interaction we'll have in this life, and somehow it captures Eve perfectly.
Even as her own life was coming to an end, she was still thinking about someone else.
How do I honour Eve?
As I've sat with the immense sadness of Eve's passing, I've thought a lot about how I can best honour her.
And I think one of the greatest ways I can honour Eve is through the way I choose to live my own life today.
I want to choose courage over fear.
I want to be generous, even when I'm facing challenges of my own.
I want to keep believing for impossible things.
I want to notice the sunshine. Go for the long walks. Have the deeper conversations.
I want to find joy in the ordinary moments and be present for them, the way I watched Eve do so beautifully.
I want to spend my life on things that will still matter long after I'm gone.
Eve's passing has taught me not to waste the gift of today.
Eve, I hope you know just how loved you were.
I hope you know how many people are living differently because they knew you, or because somewhere along the way they encountered your story.
So many people found courage and hope because they witnessed yours.
Your impact has been far-reaching because, even in one of the hardest seasons of your own life, you continued to look beyond yourself and give so generously to others.
Your life was never defined by cancer.
It was defined by so much more.
Thank you for showing us what it looks like to truly live.
Until we meet again.