For the majority of his life, Matthew Biggs was the voice that gardeners trusted on a Friday afternoon. He was the one who would say “I’ll do that” when no one else on the panel wanted to answer the awkward question about a misbehaving rose or a dying tree. Six years after being diagnosed with bowel cancer, which he never attempted to conceal, he passed away on Thursday, May 21, at the age of 65. Looking back, it’s remarkable how little the illness altered his behavior. The grin persisted. Curiosity also increased. He simply incorporated the entire somber matter into the discourse, just as he had done with everything else.
In December 2020, when most of us were already cooped up inside and terrified of something else, he received his diagnosis. Reading the tributes now gives me the impression that the timing was important to him because learning you have cancer during a pandemic forces you to make a quick decision about your attitude. Despite “always being knocked down and having to get up” due to his cerebral palsy, Biggs decided to continue working. It’s difficult to determine whether that was therapy, stubbornness, or both. Most likely both.
The most obvious narrative is found in the garden. While undergoing treatment at the Mount Vernon Cancer Centre in Hertfordshire, he decided to make repairs after noticing that the outdoor area “offered little inspiration” at the exact moment when patients needed it most. He attracted volunteers, hospital employees, charities, and designers.
Though I doubt he would have wanted his name on it, the result is now called The Matthew Biggs Sanctuary Garden, which feels appropriate. He thought that gardening could heal people. That’s what most people who work with plants say. The distinction is that, while receiving chemotherapy, he put the theory to the test on himself in real time and provided an honest report.
In the final week of his life, that honesty peaked. Recorded at The Serge Hill Project near Abbots Langley and aired during Mental Health Awareness Week, his final Gardeners’ Question Time was unlike anything the show typically features. He talked about losing his mental faculties. He claimed that he detested the idea of being unable to smile, speak, or interact with others. By all accounts, he was straightforwardly saying goodbye, surrounded by his Radio 4 family, including his wife Gill and daughters Chloe and Jessica. It’s difficult to ignore how uncommon that level of public candor about dying truly is.
The platform had been earned by him. Trained at Kew, a panelist since 1994, and the author of over 20 books, he had spent fifty years educating common people about plants without ever demeaning them. He received the RHS’s Victoria Medal of Honour just weeks before he passed away. It’s noteworthy that he was given the 64th medal in a tradition that caps living holders at 63. This indicates how he was viewed by the horticultural community.
Observing the tributes coming in from celebrities like Roy Lancaster and Matthew Wilson gives one the impression that they are grieving for more than just a broadcaster. It’s a specific temperament. Colleagues claim that he prioritized others until the very end. It appears that the cancer never quite succeeded in making him resentful. That might be the most subtly amazing aspect of the entire illness.