Month: December 2025

Goodbye 2025

A selection of images that depict events in Emma Charlesworth’s life such as the front cover of Is Daddy Gojng to Be OK? and Dubai holidays.

The last two years, I’ve ended my year end blog with one phrase “Never tell me the odds.” Once again so much has happened this year that I could never have predicted. Well. Aside from this sentence which I also wrote on this day last year “I already know that there are two words which will feature heavily in 2025: Jason. Excessive.” That prediction did indeed come true.

But hey, we all need a little stability in our life, don’t we? And we all know that Jason Donovan provides that stability for me! But when you’re starting a year with a heavy heart, you need things in your diary which will make you smile. And my 2025 did indeed start with a heavy heart. I’m still not properly convinced that I’ve processed how my 2024 ended and the fresh grief that came my way. I will do one day. But for now, it’s in a box. And that works for me.

Fortunately, I’d been back in therapy for a while when 2024 ended and that continued into 2025. It was the most exhausting therapy I think I’ve ever had. And it wasn’t my first rodeo when it came to therapy. I don’t claim to be a therapist, counsellor or expert but I can safely say that for me EMDR proved to be life changing this year. I still can’t properly explain it or how it works. But for me it was. And I still think I’m reaping the benefits from it. I’m not naïve enough to think I’ll never need therapy again, but for now it’s proven to be just what I needed. Despite my near capitulation that led me to it.

And just a few months later, near capitulation led me to tell my daughter she was also going back into therapy. It was a laugh a minute in my house. Hormones at play for us both while we were also both having therapy. The poor dog (who’s male) probably didn’t know quite what had hit him. But therapy and needing help has become an almost standard part of our lives since 2020. I guess if you want to live, you better figure out your life.

I don’t say that flippantly. Because when you’ve been widowed and experienced childhood bereavement, you’re in survival mode for so long. You don’t really live. It’s too difficult and painful to do so. You don’t know what your life is all about anymore. But hitting the five-year anniversary of the pandemic and my late husband’s death felt like a heck of a milestone. My daughter didn’t want to be at home for it, so we ran away on holiday to Dubai. Without a plan or laminated itinerary. Other than to be at the top of the Burj Khalifa for sunset on the actual anniversary. As we sat at the top of the world watching the sunset, a strange sort of calm came over me. It felt like the most apposite place in the world to be. I don’t really know what people must have thought of me sat there with tears streaming down my face, but that doesn’t matter. Because it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks. Do you. And be you.

I guess in a way that’s also what I was doing between February and the start of April. Being me. We’re back to those two words again. Jason. Excessive. I wrote a blog post about this on Jason’s birthday, so I won’t really repeat myself. Except to reiterate one thing. The memories I created during those six weeks will last me a lifetime. Even if I do now struggle to look at a chicken tender! And earnt the nickname road runner. But hey. You only live once, right?

As Ted Lasso would say: “It may not work out how you think it will or how you hope it does. But believe me, it will all work out.” I think that’s been my biggest learning across 2025. When I wrote a Facebook post six years ago today, I simply had no idea where my life was about to go. Or how it would work out. These words will always be so poignant: “As we head into 2020, there’s a lot of a variables for Family Charlesworth and who knows where we’ll be this time next year. But whatever happens, we’ll get through it. For in the words of a song I’ve heard once or twice this year… Life is a rollercoaster. Just gotta ride it.”

The variables I referenced were mainly to do with work. I was on a secondment. My late husband had been made redundant. Never did I think that a variable would be being widowed at the age of 39. My husband dying at the age of 45. My child losing her father at the age of 10. Family Charlesworth becoming Team Charlesworth. And there are no two ways about it. All the five-year anniversaries in 2025 have made me more reflective this year. But even I wasn’t anticipating quite how the year would go. The good things that went hand in hand with the challenges, heartbreak and therapy. Take for example, taking on a new role at work and leaving the comfort blanket of the familiar for the first time since my late husband fell ill. A new challenge and something for me and my future. And just a few months later taking on another new challenge by becoming a Trustee for WAY Widowed and Young. Such an honour and a way of giving back to a charity that is a lifeline for so many and so vital for me in those early days of widowhood.

Yet I couldn’t really write a year end blog this year without also referencing CharlieFest: Dress to Impress which took place to mark our 20th wedding anniversary. We raised £1,600 for Medway Maritime Hospital Intensive Care Unit and even had the fabulous Phil Gallagher (aka Mister Maker) and Ben Roddy in attendance.

And without question. I couldn’t write this without referencing Is Daddy Going to Be OK? The book that made me a published author. The book that led to me writing a Voices piece for The Independent. I still haven’t really processed all of this either. The book was just sat on my laptop for such a long time. I doubted whether I’d ever have the courage to publish it. Because simply finishing it was an achievement. There is so much more I want to say about the whole process of writing and publishing this book, but that’s probably a blog or two to be honest. Better to abbreviate than waffle on. After all, I did write over 90,000 words for the book!

But this is probably me just trying to deflect with a bit of self-depreciating humour. Because I still find being a published author just a tad overwhelming. I struggled with imposter syndrome for a few days after the release. What if it was rubbish? What if I’d made a terrible mistake in releasing it? What if…? What if…? What if…? You’d think I’d have learnt that this in the worst question in the world to torment yourself with. But it was exactly what I did.

In the six and a half weeks since release, life has been fairly hectic. I haven’t really had much time to pause and reflect on it all. The Christmas dance shows for my daughter. Open Days and auditions for her for colleges from September 2026. Christmas and all the trappings and busy-ness that comes with that. This Christmas saw us host for the first time since 2019. The first time I’d used our wedding china and all our Christmas crockery since 2019. The first time I’d ever cooked a Christmas dinner by myself at the age of 44. Again, I’d never have believed you if you’d have told me I’d be doing this at the end of 2019. But what’s the saying? Man plans and God laughs.

Last year, I said the word discombobulated was the best way to sum up my 2024. This year? I’d say it’s been pretty serendipitous. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for this year. A lot of opportunities have afforded themselves to me at the right time. Or maybe it’s been fate. Who knows if there really is such a thing as fate or if it’s what we make for ourselves. After all we’ve been through a lot of therapy, tears, heartache and have had to work incredibly hard to get to where we are today. But lots of things feel that they have just clicked into place for me and my daughter in 2025.

As the year ends, I’m looking ahead to 2026 with both a sense of hope and apprehension. Hope because of all the plans we already have in place and all that is about to change for us. Apprehension because there is a lot that is about to change for us. I’m feeling a lot of pressure to make the decisions that need to be made for us to deal with these changes. To do what’s “right” for us. It’s hard doing this when you’re the only adult responsible. The weight on my shoulders is huge. But I think I might just do what I’ve been doing for nearly six years. Wing it. And see what happens next. With a little bit of Jason Donovan thrown in for good measure.

Just promise me one thing about what my year holds in store. Never tell me the odds.

Are you ready for Christmas?

Various images related to Emma Charlesworth’s family including memory bears and Christmas decorations

It’s a question we all hear time and time again at this time of year, isn’t it? Are you ready for Christmas? On paper this should be a no-brainer of an answer for me. I buy presents throughout the year when I see things which I think people would like (I realised I was turning into my mother when I started a present box in the loft), I have a spreadsheet which details who I’m giving what to, I started wrapping and writing cards in November (partly because I went into denial in the run up to the launch of my book and needed a distraction) and I’m usually Little Miss Organised.

But I guess the bigger question is this. When one of the activities you do in December is take your daughter to put flowers at her dad’s memorial bench, are you ever really ready for Christmas?

Don’t get me wrong. My daughter and I are worlds away from the utter despair we were feeling in the run up to Christmas 2020. Last night we got a Chinese takeaway for the two of us for the first time ever (she’s never really liked it, but when I said I really fancied one, said she would try it). Our fortune cookie felt quite poignant, so much so that she even she commented on its pertinence: “Do not lose heart, things will improve with the years.”

When I look back now, that first Christmas after my late husband died was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My daughter was adamant that we had to decorate the house as Daddy had always done, I personally couldn’t have cared less. We fought so much trying to sort out the boxes. It was beyond painful. Even the arrival of decorations for our trees made from some of my late husband’s ashes and a blanket and memory bear made from his Christmas attire (for the month of December, you’d seldom see him wear anything other than a Christmas jumper, t-shirt or cardigan) didn’t really make a difference. These items were lovely, don’t get me wrong, but they were just a reminder that he was no longer here.

Somehow, we made it through that first Christmas. In a way, I think it probably helped that we were under lockdown, we couldn’t see anyone other than our support bubble. I didn’t have to go into the office or attend countless Christmas events with everyone feeling jolly. It seems crazy now to think I’m about to face my sixth Christmas without my late husband. Has it got easier to manage? Yes. Do I still get a pang every year? Also, yes.  

Over the past few years, my daughter and I have done a variety of different things for Christmas. From spending the day at my mum and stepdad’s house, running away to New York to reset things a little bit to hiding away just the two of us in Christmas PJs. We haven’t cracked a magic formula for how to survive the festive period. Other than to do what works for us in that year.

Because this is our reality of being a widow, solo parent and bereaved child at Christmas. There isn’t a normal Christmas anymore. And thanks to the quintessential Christmas movies, the questions about being ready for Christmas and what we’re doing over this period, this time of year just hammers home even more that someone is missing. Especially someone who was, essentially, Mr Christmas. Every year as I get the 4,000 boxes out of the loft containing all the decorations he loved and as I put them back after Christmas, I swear and moan. You’ll often hear me saying “stupid dead husband leaving me with all the stupid Christmas boxes” as I’m passing them to my mum and stepdad. Because this is also my reality, for me to get ready for Christmas I usually enlist help from others. I can’t do it all by myself. And that’s weird.

It’s a conversation I had with a friend of mine recently, when she said that if I need any help, I only have to ask. She’s right. I am exceptionally lucky with all the help that is afforded to me but the thing I said to her that is one of the biggest struggles at this time of year is that there’s no tag teaming, no partner to do the everyday chores such as emptying the dishwasher or putting the bins out when I’m doing the various different Christmassy things that need doing. Or vice versa.

Recently my daughter had her Christmas dance show which involved a rehearsal on the Saturday and three shows on the Sunday, an entire weekend in December essentially wiped out. Now. I could say that I’m no longer going to chaperone, that I’ll drop her off, go and watch one show and give myself time at home. But the simple fact is that running her around to rehearsals, being a chaperone and being involved with the dance shows is something I’ve been doing since she was three years old, I don’t mind doing it in the slightest. The difference now is that trade off, for me to continue doing it, I can’t do other things. They slip. Because I simply can’t do everything by myself.

This trade off means for the first time since at least 2008 (it might even be longer) I’m working between Christmas and New Year. I’ve needed to take holiday to take my daughter to college open days and auditions lately which means that using another three days holiday before the end of the year almost feels like a waste. I completely acknowledge that this is a first world problem. I am, after all, fortunate to be in employment and facing this trade off. But it’s still one that I’m only really having to face because of widowhood. Her anxiety and nerves mean she wants a parent to be there with her looking around the college, dropping her off and picking up for auditions which is completely understandable. However, when you only have one parent, you have to acknowledge that there’ll be a trade off for Mum doing that as to when else she can take holiday.

Instead, I’ve taken a couple of days off this week, all with the view of taking some time for us and getting ready for Christmas. We kicked it off with a day in London with friends on Saturday, I lit a candle for my late husband at the Remember Me memorial in St Paul’s Cathedral and we had the sort of day he would have loved.

But getting ready for Christmas for me also means getting ready for life and catching up with the chores and admin. Monday saw my daughter relaxing and watching Christmas movies, so I spent many hours doing the ironing. Something I simply haven’t had a chance to do in weeks because of December doing its thing. Or December “December-ing” as I said to someone recently. I mean, I’m not going to moan about ironing while swooning over Jude Law in The Holiday but his speech about being a widower hits a little differently now. The words “it’s way too complicated to be who I really am, I’m a full-time dad, I’m a working parent, I’m a mother and a father” hit a nerve. Without fail, every Christmas since being widowed, I sit there crying when he starts this speech. While my daughter sits there eye-rolling and laughing at me, because in her opinion, it’s not sad. I completely appreciate why she says this; I don’t think I’d have found it as sad as I do now or cried six years ago, but I do now. Because it’s real for me. Widowhood is a constant trade off and battle of trying to figure out how to live your own life and be you, while still parenting and doing a lot of what you always did when there were two of you. And it’s tiring. And it’s hard.

Tonight, I’m also doing something that I would never have been doing had I not been widowed. I’m co-hosting a New Member Zoom for WAY Widowed and Young. These run every Wednesday and Saturday and the Christmas period is no different. There are zooms being held tomorrow for any members who may need that support. Because we all know that this time of year is exceptionally tough for anyone who has been bereaved.

My daughter and I had a chat about it before I volunteered to do the session tonight, I was acutely aware it’s taking place on Christmas Eve and it’s not an easy day for her either. Yet her view was that she can find things to do for a couple of hours and it’s a good thing for me to be able to offer that support to others who were feeling like we were in 2020. The empathy she has as a teenager is something you only get when your whole world has been turned upside down and you’ve gone through a life changing event. It’s both touching and heartbreaking in equal measure.

As I sit here now, if someone was to ask if I’m ready for Christmas, I can probably say that I am. The food shops have been done, the presents have been wrapped, the cards have been written, everything has been delivered that needed to be, the decorations have been put up and the out of office is on. The life-min is fairly up to date and I’m sort of feeling in control. Which isn’t a bad position to be in. Yet, there is also part of me who doubts that I’ll ever completely be 100% ready for Christmas. Because there will always be a part of my Christmas that is missing. No matter how efficient and organised I am.