Amy’s story

On 3^rd February 2022, we lost Scott, my partner of 10 years and father to my then 3 and 5 year old, to a sudden heart attack. We were both 43.

That morning Scott had headed into work like usual, after moaning that I hadn’t ironed the shirt he wanted to wear. We’d had a chat about headlamps before he left, nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn’t feeling 100%, as he was not quite back to his normal self after having covid a few months before, but well enough to work. He’d called me to say another headlamp in the car had blown and everything was set to be another normal busy day. When he was at work, he had a funny turn- he was experiencing what we now know were the early signs of a heart attack but they didn’t realise at the time.  After he was sent home from work for not feeling well, I had called an ambulance and they decided he needed to be taken to hospital.  I never thought for one minute I would get there and he wouldn’t.

Four hours later I was finally told that Scott died on the way. I also found out he wasn’t even at the hospital we had been sent to, as they diverted on route.

When I got home, my son was asleep but my 5 year old daughter had waited up for us. I had to tell her that Daddy wasn’t coming home. This was the single most horrendous thing I have and will ever have to do.

Navigating grief

Navigating your grief and that of your children at such a young age is something I never thought I would have to do. I am having to make decisions for both of us, whether it’s what furniture to get for the house or what would be best for the kids. When I’m deciding what to do, I always think “would Scott approve of this?” He’s become like a little jiminy cricket on my shoulder.

Coupled with trying to continue to work, deal with school, home life, and the trauma of that day over and over again- it’s a rollercoaster I don’t think I will ever truly get off now. This is our life now, not one we planned for.

I had a fear that grief would take away my children’s childhood, which was the last thing I wanted. But I’m pleased to say that isn’t happening. I have made sure that we’ve carried on doing what we would have done if Scott was still with us. We have celebrated birthdays, gone on holidays, found hobbies for the kids and continued to make memories.

I keep talking about Daddy, so they have memories of him and he’s still a part of our everyday life. I think this has helped us all navigate our grief.

Missed occasions

I miss Scott every day. It’s not specifically the anniversaries or birthdays, grief can come on any day. Last week I felt it when I was walking around the supermarket, it hit me out of nowhere.

In a couple of weeks, it will be my son’s sixth birthday. From this point, he will have lived as much of his life without his Daddy as with him. That’s been really hard to process. I just think of all the things Scott has missed out on, and sometimes I’m angry with him for not being here. But I know that if he had any choice then he never would have left us.

Scott always wanted our kids to be friends with his friends’ children, and to have family friends we could do things with. I know he would be so happy to know that his kids are in the same class at school with one of his best friend’s kids but it also brings a pang of grief. I hate that he wasn’t given the opportunity to join the Dad groups at school or to see our kids play with his friends’ kids.

Keeping loved ones close

When the kids were little and someone died, Scott and I told them they were now on the moon. This gave them somewhere they could see and think of them, but they knew they couldn’t visit them. Now if there’s the slightest bit of moon, the kids will spot it and will talk about Daddy. Since Scott died, the moon has just seemed so much bigger.

I find moments to keep Scott close. At Christmas, my Mum has always poured a glass of sherry for my Nan and put it by her picture. She’ll then find a moment in the day to drink it with her. I’ve started doing this with Scott- his drink was a can of fosters. I put a can by his picture and then, at the end of the day when the kids have gone to bed, I will drink it and spend some time with him.

 Support from Cruse

At first, I thought that I didn’t need counselling, but I am so glad that I decided to. When Scott was in his late 20s his Mum died, and it took him a long time to deal with his grief. He was still processing it and managing unresolved feelings when we met. I knew that I needed to go through this process and feel everything I was going to.

Christine from Cruse was an immense support and I couldn’t have got through the first year without her. She helped me to navigate everything.

Turning pain into good actions

After Scott died, I took three months off work but then I went back. I needed to get out the house, as I found I was just doing the school run and then sitting around at home. My work were really supportive when I went back but it wasn’t the same. I still did my job but something had shifted, and I realised that I needed a change. I knew that I needed to do something more worthwhile, that would make a difference.

So, I started working in a school, primarily to give me more time with my children but this has also been so rewarding. It’s been amazing to hear from parents that I have helped make their children’s day better or that they feel they can talk to me. This has just made me want to do more. I am currently looking into qualifications I could do to help support bereaved children.

I want to use our experience, bad and good, to help make a difference. If I can turn our biggest nightmare into something that helps other people, then I’ll know Scott’s death and our grief hasn’t gone in vain.

Grief and love doesn’t go away

We are fast approaching the third anniversary, and it feels like we are expected to be ok now and have moved on, but it’s just not that easy. When something like this happens it’s inevitable that some friendships shift. Those that you thought would always be around move on and you have to make your peace with that. Everyone says “shout if you need anything” but sometimes that is hard and you could do with someone just identifying when you need help, or someone to do one of the school runs because you can’t be in two places at once.  The world doesn’t work like that though so you learn to keep your support network small.

There’s no right way to grieve, and everyone’s experience is unique. You just have to do what’s best for you and your family, as you navigate a life change that you didn’t bank on. Grief and love doesn’t go away but your life can grow around it.

We carry on though, the best we can, one foot in front of the other. In the hope that, one day, the life that surrounds your grief is big enough to protect you again.