THERE are birthdays – and there are special birthdays. But the way in which Lynda Hay is due to celebrate her next one can only be seen as the ultimate expression of a great love that has endured even beyond the grave.

Before Lynda's distinguished rugby-playing husband, Bruce, died from brain cancer last October, he organised a party at the Boroughmuir club for his beloved wife to be held on the occasion of her 60th birthday in May – even though he knew that he would not be around to help her celebrate.

"The party was supposed to be a secret but my daughter, Lyndsey, felt she had to tell me, and I'm glad she did because it would have been just too much of a surprise," says Lynda.

Not that Bruce wasn't romantic enough to have sprung a birthday get-together on her, but to show such foresight when battling terminal illness offers yet another, and perhaps the most telling, example of the extraordinary fortitude and strength of a man who on the sports field twice toured with the British and Irish Lions, as well as gaining 23 Scotland caps.

The couple were married for 36 years, and in the family home at Mortonhall, photographs of Bruce in rugby colours and wedding clobber blend tastefully into the decor.

Also on view in a small glass case nestling beside the fireplace is the international cap gained by Bruce on the occasion of his Scotland rugby debut back in 1975 against the mighty All Blacks in Auckland; here is symbolism of the most eloquent type.

For, on earning those spurs, Bruce soldiered on manfully with an injury later diagnosed as a broken arm, saying at the time: "I didn't want to come off in case people thought I was a wimp."

Exactly how far removed Bruce Hay was from being wimpish is revealed as Lynda speaks publicly for the first time of how he fought his battle with cancer, in the hope that others can draw strength and comfort from it.

She is also hopeful that when Boroughmuir stage their annual seven-a-side rugby tournament at Meggetland on Sunday, April 20 – partly in aid of the Princess Royal's Trust for Carers, and with a team honouring Bruce Hay's name entered in the draw – fans will spare a thought for the families who are battling terminal cancer.

Throughout the conversation, Lynda frequently talks rhetorically of how someone so apparently fit and healthy as Bruce could succumb to such a disease.

She says: "That is one of the hardest aspects to come to terms with – the fact that Bruce was always fit, had salad with every meal. All right, he might have had a few beers too many on the odd occasion, but . ."

What becomes clear though is that the same determination which carried Bruce to rugby honours also prolonged his life.

Lynda adds: "The majority of people will really care for those they care for and love. I wanted to do that for Bruce of course and for as long as I could.

"When he went into the Marie Curie Hospice the plan was to try to get him home as soon as possible, but it was explained that the support package would take a fortnight to implement and Bruce was expected to live only another week.

"As it happened, Bruce had six weeks of the most devoted care and attention anybody could ever want at Marie Curie. Up until his last breath Bruce fought. How he fought."

It was on a July day in 2005 that Bruce, Lynda and Lyndsey's world – anybody who heard this brave 15-year-old's eulogy to her father at the funeral service six months ago in Liberton Kirk could not fail to have been moved – began to turn upside down.

"Bruce came in from walking our dog to say he had inexplicably fallen. Then, later in the year, we were on holiday with friends and Bruce had what turned out to be another stroke when he was unable to cut through his food during a meal or even lift a glass.

"After two days in hospital for tests I went with Bruce for the results. During the journey he told me he thought he had cancer.

"Even then I wasn't prepared for the sort of clinical prognosis which was a grade four – the worst kind – of tumour. At the same time, Bruce was asked if he wanted an idea of his timescale and immediately replied 'No. I'm going to fight this'.

"Although he never acknowledged it he knew, deep down, just how serious the illness was, though all the time I was wondering how he was able to tell people that an implant had paved the way for recovery when I knew he had been told nothing of the sort. It was probably part of his way of fighting the disease.

"Before matters got even more serious around January last year he took care of financial aspects of not being around without telling me because he didn't want to burden me, and besides organising my 60th birthday party he supervised the completion of a conservatory at our home.

"He said I should have somewhere nice to sit and look out on the garden," recalled Lynda.

Like all men who spend time down the mines – Bruce began working life as a colliery electrician before setting up a chemical supply business – the outdoor life particularly appealed to him, and over the years he built up a prize collection of cockatiels and tropical fish.

Altogether Lynda received 353 bereavement cards on being separated by death from the man she had met at a Hogmanay Party at the Tron Kirk and married two years afterwards.

Lynda says that throughout Bruce's illness, the support of the rugby community was constant.

She says: "Bill Hogg, the former SRU secretary, was quick to get in touch, partly in his capacity as an administrator of a trust fund operated by the rugby authorities and wanting to make sure we were okay financially.

"Andy Irvine, one of Bruce's closest friends and former Scotland colleague, was a rock.

"And I will never forget going into the Marie Curie and meeting, on the way out, current Scotland captain Jason White, who Bruce coached at one time. Jason had tears streaming down his face.

"There were times such as at the testimonial dinner organised by rugby friends for Bruce that Andy, too, was moved to tears, but the support he and Lyndsey gave each other when planning speeches for the funeral was incredible.

"When I asked Andy if he'd speak he said he might struggle to hold himself together.

"Then Lyndsey said she'd written something that she wasn't going to finish until after her dad died, and wanted to share it with the mourners. Andy said 'right, if you can speak, so can I.'"

All those who heard Irvine's remarks will testify to the brilliance of his summing up of a husband, father and sportsman; an amalgam of pathos peppered with the type of pithy anecdotes Bruce revelled in.

In opening her heart, Lynda feels it's time to move on while always remembering, and in doing so suggests her experiences leave her convinced everything happens for a reason.

She says: "What has come out of all this, too, is that Lyndsey appears to be committing herself to a career in nursing and specialising in palliative care.

"Even before Bruce was ill Lyndsey had a good way with young and old, helping out one day a week at a nursery.

"I'm looking to return to helping out Marie Curie voluntarily when I retire shortly from working in the School Meals Service."

Lynda sums up the loss of Bruce, saying: "You know it is going to happen but you don't want it to happen. I just had to do the best I could for Bruce and now I look back on all those really good memories."

KICKING OFF
• The Capital Sevens run by Boroughmuir in aid of the Princess Royal Trust for Carers takes place at Meggetland on Sunday, April 20.
• A youth tournament kicks off proceedings at 9.30am followed by the main event in which Edinburgh Rugby are defending the trophy inaugurated last year starting at 1pm.
• Scotland internationalists will be in attendance and the fun also includes pipe bands.