Widowed and Young

I can still remember the first time I was called a widow. It was 22 April 2020 and I’d just registered my husband’s death. While he was entered as my husband, as the informant I was listed as his widow. I felt indignant at being called that. Why couldn’t I still be called his wife? Widow. I was 39 years old. Aren’t widows supposed to be in their 80s?

But no. I was now officially a widow. When I had to renew my car and home insurance a few months later, I had another slap in the face. For no longer was my marital status “married”, it was “widowed.” There it was, once again in black and white. Widowed. I didn’t want to click that button. I didn’t want to have it being official. Same again with completing the census last week. Always there now.

It’s hard to articulate what it feels like to be widowed young. Everything about my life suddenly changed. Everything. Yes, I’d felt grief before when my grandad died but despite the pain of losing him, my day to day life was still the same. When Mr C died, everything about my life changed. I had to start cooking every single day. I hadn’t cooked in 21 years and it was a running joke that if he was away, we’d either have takeaway or people would take pity on me and feed me and my daughter! But now, every single day I must cook. I don’t eat the same food any more as my daughter doesn’t like spicy food and it feels pointless to cook two meals. I don’t watch the same TV programmes because we used to watch them together and I don’t want to watch them without him. I haven’t been to a supermarket since 20 March 2020 because we always did the shopping together. I don’t want to wander round without him. I don’t want to bump into people that might ask me how I am because I don’t want to run the risk of crying over the fruit and vegetables.

For the first time in my adult life, I’m no longer part of a couple. In the eyes of the law I’m not married so is it possible to still have in-laws? What should I call them? When a friend introduced me as “Charlie’s wife” a few months after he died, I found it odd. It completely took me off guard. Am I his wife? Am I his widow? Who am I? What am I? I just have an overriding sense of being on my own. Because no matter how many times people tell me I’m not alone (which I’m not, I’m incredibly lucky to have a strong support network), the simple truth is, I am on my own. There is no playing good cop, bad cop when it comes to parenting any more. There is no “you empty the dishwasher, I’ll put the bins out” trade off. When I eventually go back to the office, spontaneity will no longer exist. I’ll no longer be able to ring him and say, “I’m just going for a quick drink, are you ok to pick her up?” Everything related to our daughter will have to be planned. I’m the one responsible for making absolutely every single decision for her. I’m now the one responsible for making absolutely every single decision for us. It’s overwhelming. It’s isolating. And it’s tiring. It’s oh so tiring.

But around the time I was looking for insurance, I remembered Widowed and Young (WAY), a charity someone had mentioned to me on Twitter shortly after Mr C died. When it was first mentioned I didn’t understand what use it would be to me, but I now started to research it. I needed it. Because no matter how supportive my friends, family and colleagues were being, I just didn’t know anyone that actually got it. After spending time on the website and discovering just how many people lose a spouse or partner under the age of 50, I suddenly felt that maybe there might be people out there that understood. I joined a virtual quiz that one of the Kent groups* had organised. I was so nervous as I dialled in (I’m not sure what I was expecting) but everyone was just so normal and friendly. Yes, we’re now all part of a club that no-one wants to be part of, but fundamentally, we’re all normal people. It’s invaluable to have support like this. And more recently, a WAY from COVID group* has been set up for anyone who has lost a partner throughout any of the lockdowns (be it to COVID or another reason). Our first virtual gathering was again just so very comforting. It’s so reassuring to know people have had the same thoughts and emotions that you have.

So, when WAY advertised for ambassadors I applied. I wanted to be able to help others going through this experience to feel less isolated. To know that there are people who understand what this horrendous journey is like. To help people know that support is out there. I feel incredibly proud and privileged to have been successful in this application. A year ago, I didn’t know anything about this charity and never dreamed I’d be in this position. To be honest, I still don’t want to be and wish I didn’t have a need for WAY. But now I am, and I do, I’ll do all I can to share our story and help others to know that they’re not alone.

If you missed my Talk aWAY session with Jess Haslem-Bantoft , you can catch up here.

If you’d like to find out more about Widowed and Young and the support offered, please visit the website.

* To join these groups you must have a current WAY membership.