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I’ve been writing this post for the last eight months. I just didn’t have the words. I don’t know if I ever will but I have learnt that some people have a lot to say about lives they have never lived and I want to be the one to tell my story myself. Buckle in.

My husband died.

How dramatic it is to write that. It’s even more dramatic saying it out loud and seeing the look of horror on the face of the other person. The wide eyes, the head tilt, the awkward silence that follows. These aren’t typically conversations people in their 30s have. While it obviously happens, chances are that not that many will find themselves widowed before 40. It’s a pretty small gang. And the number of those widowed during their divorce is even smaller. 

I know this because this happened to me.

I met Willy in 2000 on a working holiday to Kenya. He wore twisted Levis (cool AF) and he loved Acorn Antiques as much as I did. I knew the moment I met him that he was the man I was going to marry. I’d always been a bit awkward and an odd ball, he was too but people loved him for it. I loved him for it. He was the funniest person I’ve ever met and made me laugh more than anyone else ever could. Even doing nothing together was fun. I ache for those times now. Cancer and everything else that went with it….not so hilarious. Our entire lives fell apart and I never saw it coming. 

I can’t even begin to tell you how frightening it is knowing that someone isn’t going to get better. The Sword of Damocles hanging over you day after day. If he didn’t pick up the phone or answer immediately when I walked into the house and shouted hello, dread would wash over me. Everything was unknown and I was terrified all the time. How do you even begin to prepare yourself or your children for this? It was agony. When he told me he didn’t want us to be together anymore it was another blow. I desperately wanted to be close to him, especially when he was ill and I was hurt and angry at being pushed away. I adored him but I also didn’t want to be unhappy anymore so I left. There used to be a relationship option on Facebook, “it’s complicated” and that would describe us to a T. A toxic mix of “I love you more than anything but I just can’t live like this anymore”. You can either wait for the platform to crumble or you can try to take control of your life and jump. I jumped.

At first I couldn’t even bring myself to say that we had split. I borrowed a line from Gwyneth and cheerfully called it our conscious uncoupling. It’s fine, we’re fine, this is actually great for us all. Nope. It really wasn’t despite me pretending otherwise. I moved out and only took half of my things, I was so convinced that he’d see sense and I’d go home again. It soon became clear that this was more permanent but I don’t think my heart caught up with that. He also told everyone it was fine, he was fine and I just went along with it. If I was terrified, I can’t even imagine how it must have felt for him so I said nothing. We’d handle this however he wanted to. 

The moment I had been dreading came at 5:37 am on 3rd March. I knew the second my phone buzzed what had happened. “Are you the next of kin for Simon Willis?” Nothing can prepare you for that moment. Nothing. Despite knowing all through his illness that this would be the outcome when it actually happened it was nothing like I had imagined it would be. I think I was expecting a miracle at the eleventh hour because someone like him couldn’t die. Surely not? But it often seems to be that the life and soul of the party are the ones to leave early. Calling my friends, I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. I couldn’t even say it at first. “You know why I’m calling at this time…” and each reaction made it gradually more real. The few hours between finding out and waiting for the children to wake up were excruciating. Their reaction is one of those things that you desperately wish you could forget. Their faces as the news sunk in and they realised I would never joke about something like that and what I was saying was true. I was heartbroken for them. My little girl still so sweet and innocent, still believes in Father Christmas and I had to tell her that her daddy was gone. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and every time she spoke my heart broke a little bit more. Then came the Facebook posts and the tributes on social media which was a comfort and awful at the same time. I wanted to scream too. We will never be the same again but for the majority of people the world would be back to normal soon enough. I couldn’t bear to see it. 

Overnight I went from almost ex to widow. I’ve lost him twice. People don’t know what to do with that. I’m not what society expects a widow to be and that’s confusing for some people. At a meet up for young widows I was almost envious at how simple their relationship status was in comparison to mine because I don’t really belong anywhere. People didn’t know what to say so some said nothing at all which was so hurtful or they’d speak about him like I never existed. I’ve lost my whole future with him, please don’t erase our past too. Someone referred to me as his estranged wife and it made me bristle. Estranged is such a horrible word. How am I estranged from someone I spoke to almost every day? Someone who knew things about me that nobody else ever will, someone I have a family with and shared dreams and a life with since I was 17 years old? The day before his most recent operation we stood in the hospital car park (I wasn’t allowed in because of Covid) and cried and spoke words of love as we each confessed to the other that we were scared (I also called him a bellend because that’s just how we were). The last call to his phone was from me. 

I can’t tell you what the best day of my life is – having the children, my wedding day? I can tell you the worst. Walking behind a coffin holding my children’s hands. I had told them that three squeezes means “I love you” in preparation for this day. Through a fog of valium, I just kept squeezing three times until it was over. 

It’s unbearable knowing you will never see someone again. It’s ridiculous but I see a stranger and hope when they turn around it will be him. I search for his face in a crowd. Waking up some days is like the opposite of waking from a nightmare- there’s no relief that it wasn’t real. It’s actually happening. I’ve lost people close to me before but it didn’t feel like this. While of course it was awful, their story seemed more complete but here there are so many chapters unwritten. I miss everything about him. I replay old videos, re-read our texts, see memes I would have sent to him. The irony of it all is that the person I would most like to talk to about everything, is him. The world without him is a strange place to be. Every single thing that goes wrong feels like the end of the world because it is. It’s the end of the world as I know it. It’s like someone handed you this new life and you don’t know how to respond and how to react. We all need to figure out how we continue without him.

There was a life before him, a wonderful life with him and I know there’s a beautiful life still to come. This last year has really put things in perspective. We die once but we live every day. Don’t worry over tiny, insignificant problems that you won’t even remember a year from now. Enjoy every single moment you can. Find real love with a good person, or even just with yourself and love the shit out of everyone and everything that matters to you. Take risks, buy the dress, go on that holiday because one day, just like that… our life or the life of someone who shines brightly for us, will be snuffed out. Just like that. Gone forever. Life is short and our time is precious and it’s so sad that we only get one chance at it all. We need to make the most of every second. 

While not seeing friends and family has been one of the hardest parts of the pandemic, knowing that we all share in this experience helps us feel like we aren’t alone. We may not be in the same boat but we are in the same storm.

Catriona is mum to Evie, 13, and Elsa, 11.

What was your experience of lockdown?

I hope I will look back and remember the positives as there were a lot. Just  frustrating that we had so much planned for our birthdays. After a rubbish 2019 I had started the year all positive with my ‘Things to do in 2020’ board, and made a great start in January and booked loads of stuff, and then it all went out of the window when Covid hit.

How did you feel during your time in lockdown?

A roller coaster of emotions – absolutely hated it at first and felt so angry and upset, but as time went on enjoyed the slower pace and felt much more grateful for small things eg takeaway meals, home delivered coffee! Second lockdown – after initial shock + upset, was easier to deal with as a limited time and I wanted to make the most of it.

Have you realised anything about yourself during this time?

I don’t have to have something planned every weekend (although have to keep reminding myself of this as keep planning stuff only for it to be cancelled)

What have you missed most?

My parents, gigs & festivals, travel. It was our 50th birthdays and we has so much planned – parties, holidays, spa days, festivals, gigs etc etc. All cancelled.

What are you most grateful for?

My family, my close friends, my health, that we were financially secure enough to manage for a while during my redundancy.

Did anything surprise you about lockdown?

I really like the UK – found some new places we have never been to. I love walking now.

What do you think you will carry forward with you from this year?

More family meals together, lots of long family walks. Appreciate the small things more. 

Was there anything about lockdown that you were surprised to find you enjoyed?

Exercise! I’m slightly addicted now. Never would have thought that.

What were the best and worst parts of the last year for you?

Best VE day and the first holiday after the first lockdown (both with special friends) were the absolute highlights. Plus lots of real quality time as a family, and enjoying watching the seasons change on dog walks. Worst: not seeing my Mum & Dad for 7 months and then again since July. My Dad has dementia and his condition has worsened so much in that time, I feel like I have missed a big part of what is left of his life. Also having all our 50th birthday plans cancelled including a dream African Safari. 

If you could go back in time to before lockdown and tell yourself something what would it be?

Do not let work stresses take over your life. It is just a job, stop trying to please everyone, make the most of  every day.

How did you find homeschooling?

Errmmmm!!!. If I’m honest I probably found it easier than most, although it didn’t feel like that at the time. The hardest part for me was worrying about their mental health and the impact of not being around friends at such an important age. Also one child was much more motivated than the other, and I felt like I was constantly hassling the other at first, but then when I became really busy at work, I just left them to it, which again I felt really guilty about. It makes you realise the importance of positive praise and feedback from teachers, and when that wasn’t there, it almost felt like what is the point? I found it really frustrating on the whole as the youngest wasnt given much structure, but we got through it. I was so so happy that schools weren’t shut in the second lockdown.

There’s nothing I can say about 2020 that hasn’t already been said. I knew that the pandemic wouldn’t magically go away when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve but I hoped 2021 would be kinder to us. So far I can safely say that I’m not a fan. In the first few weeks of this year we have had another national lockdown, school closure and remote learning, a hospital stay and major surgery for the kids’ dad, having my bank card cloned, being furloughed once again, being turned down for a job I really REALLY wanted after two interviews….it’s felt like a lot and when you are anxious about everyone’s health all. the. time and can’t see a friend for tea and sympathy it hits extra hard. Added to that juggle is the dark and cold of winter. There’s so much that I can’t fit it all neatly into a few paragraphs and with all of this going on I have struggled to find the motivation I had in the first lockdown when I was full of fire and armed with a super optimistic to-do list. While I am the first to tell a friend that it’s OK to tread water for a while and that self care IS productive, I don’t apply those rules to myself and end up feeling frustrated.

I try to stay positive as much as possible but there’s some things that are just too huge sometimes and you can write in as many gratitude journals as you like, it’s not going to make a difference. When life feels overwhelming I either find the distraction of everyone else’s noise to be a comfort or I need to step back and mute it all for a while which is what I’ve had to do lately. I’ve tried to use this time to reflect on what’s happening and prepare myself for the next leg of the marathon. What do I need to get me to the next water station?  Well, I don’t know. I just don’t know what I need or what I want. Right now I am a paradox of feelings, exhausted, energised, drained and full of motivation and I don’t know what to DO with it all. Shouldn’t I have it all figured out by now? Am I doing life wrong? Or is this how everyone feels? 

Maybe we already have all the answers. We just don’t know it yet.