Counting down to the Great North Run on 8 September 2024. It’s an incredible event – 60,000 runners running, jogging, walking or rolling 13.1 miles from Newcastle to South Shields to the sound of thousands of people cheering and the smoke trails of the Red Arrows.
 
I last ran it in 2019, 18 months after Tim’s sudden death from type 2 diabetes, as one of a series of four races in his memory. I wore a Diabetes UK vest.
 
Being widowed young and losing someone unexpectedly is a massive shock, and it feels like the whole world has been swept away from under your feet. WAY Widowed and Young, along with its community of people who understood, helped me to get back up again and begin to live again.
 
This year I’m giving something back. So, I am running the Great North Run again, but this time wearing a WAY Widowed and Young vest. I won’t be fast – I run slower than a tortoise in treacle – but I run.
 
Raise a glass to me the night before, think of me on the day, and if you can, donate to my Just Giving page to help more people who have been widowed young.

There is no timeline for grief. I could actually stop this post here.

Grief doesn’t have a set timeline, or even a single timeline. There’s no list anywhere that says ‘you must feel like this on day six, like this on week four, and be over it after 12 months and three days’. Everyone grieves on a different timeline, and that timeline is normal for you.

​I think grieving lasts a lifetime. It is something that we as widows walk alongside. That doesn’t mean it will be as raw as it was in the early days. I am six years out and I still miss Tim. Grief is still there. But I have learned to see it as a quiet companion rather than a raw and bleeding wound.

A good relationship is a partnership. We share tasks, decisions and responsibilities. And when we are bereaved, all those decisions fall on us alone.
 
When Tim died, the immediate decisions were about the funeral – as Tim’s death was sudden, we hadn’t discussed much – and what to do about his business, and all his clothes and books and magazines. After that, I decided not to make any major decisions for a while. But there were still the smaller decisions to be made on a daily basis. Whether to repaint the sitting room. Which plumber to choose to fix the toilet. Whether the cat was sneezing enough to need to go to the vet. Even little things like what to have for tea. And those, all adding up together, truly can be exhausting, physically, mentally and emotionally.
 
This exhaustion and the lack of a sounding board meant that I made some big mistakes. I spent a huge amount on work on the house/shop, much of which probably didn’t need to be done, and made a couple of bad choices after persuasion from a builder, which later had to be reversed before I could sell the house. I was also badly let down by another builder who disappeared before work was completed. And I made some small ones. I painted the upstairs toilet with an odd paint effect because I ran out of paint. I ate too much or the wrong things. I bought shoes that I never wore.
 
While asking for help can be really hard, having someone to talk these decisions through – a friend, a family member or someone who is part of a face to face or online support group – can lift a bit of the exhaustion. 

The Widow's Handbook is now on Instagram and Threads
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Instagram: the_widows_handbook

Threads: the_widows_handbook