LIKE A PHOENIX

Written by Alison

When you’re married to someone for 21 years, you think you know them. At least, I thought I knew my husband, but never in my wildest dreams would I ever imagine he would commit suicide. But this is what he did in 2004. People like him didn’t kill themselves. He adored our three children and would never, ever want to leave them. At least that’s what I thought….

He had given up work years before to become a househusband and was a very committed and involved father. As I had the better job with higher pay and better conditions, this seemed the obvious thing to do. He settled into being at home and we were very happy. There were just two clouds on the horizon; firstly, while he spent hours playing with the baby (and later, all the children) he was chaotic and messy and hoarded everything. I always came home to a mess. We also had not factored in the loss of my husband’s wages on the family finances (I know, how naïve can you be?) and the next 15 years were ones of a continual struggle to pay bills and keep the creditors from the door. Don’t get me wrong – it was also an incredibly happy time. OK, I reasoned to myself, the ironing might not have been done but my eldest son could count to 14 before he was 4 (his Dad used to count the stairs when he took him to bed every night).

I suppose the relationship between my husband and I started to deteriorate a couple of years before his death. Once we got a computer and access to the Internet, he became obsessive about finding old schoolmates through ‘Friends Reunited’ and was spending all day on the computer rather than doing the most basic household jobs. I wouldn’t dream of inviting anyone round, I was too ashamed of the mess everywhere. For that reason, we never went out together as we couldn’t inflict the chaos on any babysitter.

Matters finally came to a head one night when we had a silly argument over something which I regarded as trivial. He clearly didn’t, because he threatened then to take his life. I was shocked beyond words. But not as shocked as when, hours later, I was woken by the sound of one of our sons screaming. Yes, he had found his Dad’s body and was naturally hysterical. Unfortunately, the noise attracted my other two sons who rushed to also see their Dad. One of them was only 9 years old.

My new life began that moment. I had to be strong and get all of us through what was by any standards an utterly traumatic experience. My immediate thought was to protect my children. We slept together that night, all four of us in my room and all crept down to breakfast together. I told them they mustn’t be frightened of going downstairs in the morning and what they might find. I read a very helpful article later quoting Chris Evans the DJ who, when describing the loss of his father at an early age, said “The worst thing that could happen to me had happened” and how he could face the future with confidence knowing that. Well, that was the attitude I tried to display with the boys. The worst had happened and things could only get better.

I’m a firm believer that something good comes out of something bad and that was certainly true in the weeks following my husband’s death. People were so kind and thoughtful, from the officialdom you have to deal with to friends, my work colleagues, just everyone I came into contact with. All the children in my youngest son’s class sent him little handmade cards decorated with glitter and tinsel which was unbelievably touching and kind.

How did I cope? I look back now and can’t believe what I did. I’m quite a modest person and have always played down my achievements, but my goodness, I found my true mettle that day. I decided to clear the house of all my husband’s ‘collectibles’. He couldn’t throw anything away and we filled numerous skips and recycling banks with old magazines, photocopier parts (yes I know!), credit card statements going back to 1974, the printout of every email he’d ever sent, you name it, he saved it. Over the next couple of years we did all the things we’d always wanted to, both to the house and in terms of holidays and outings. The irony was that, with my widowed parents’ allowance, I was now better off financially and in a position to do these things. We had hardly had a holiday while my husband was alive as we just couldn’t afford it.

I found that, while missing my husband very badly, I also liked the sense of liberation. If I wanted to paint the kitchen green then, my goodness, it would be painted green. I took charge and felt like a proper adult. The children were thrilled with the changes. My middle son in particular is a very sociable person and had never had friends round as he was too ashamed of the place. Suddenly there were friends around and laughter and it felt like a home should, welcoming and happy.

I’ve sadly recently developed some serious health problems. Many people have commented they didn’t know how I have coped with all that’s happened these last few years, but what’s the alternative? I’ve discovered I’m a fighter; throw a challenge at me and I find a way to meet it. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not been all unadulterated joy for the past five years. Bringing up three children on your own is never a picnic, but I’ve found compensations. I still miss my husband very much and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think ‘why on earth didn’t I go downstairs in the early hours and stop him?’ I hide my guilt very well, but it is there and will probably never go away. The truth is I’m told that if he wanted to take his own life, sooner or later he would, no matter how I tried to stop him.

So what of the boys? Nearly five years on, the eldest did indeed get to university to study French, the middle one is currently studying his A levels and intending to go to university in the autumn and the youngest is just about to start GCSEs. I am incredibly proud of them and how they’ve dealt with what life has so far thrown at them.

If you find yourself in a similar situation to me, I have these points to offer in case they help.

Learn to say yes. Accept offers of help and don’t be proud.
Have counselling or speak to someone totally unrelated to your situation. I did and it was big help.
Try not to be too hard on yourself. I’ve rarely met someone who didn’t try to do their best and do the right thing, but sometimes, things just don’t work out for you. Try not to over-analyse your behaviour and avoid the ‘what if…?’ scenarios. It doesn’t help and just makes you feel even worse.
Concentrate on the positive. Yes, it’s a cliché, but remember the good times and what that person has left behind.
Talk about the person you’ve lost. There was a temptation for me to try to ‘brush it all under the carpet’ but I have always talked very naturally about my husband to keep his memory alive for my sons. The best thing for me is when they sometimes say ‘oh do you remember the time Dad…’
Don’t feel guilty about enjoying yourself. There have been times when I’ve felt I shouldn’t be happy because it was my fault someone died. What right have I to enjoy myself? I soon talked myself out of those thoughts. We are all responsible for our own actions and, whatever I or anyone else may feel, my husband chose the path he took.

About Alison

Alison worked in the Civil Service for 26 years until, after the death of her husband, she developed serious health problems and decided to take early retirement. She now manages her home and supports her three sons, the eldest of whom is at university. Her hobbies include a little writing, swimming, reading, doing cross stitch, meeting up with friends and just enjoying herself.

Alison says, “If I can help anyone else in the same dreadful position, I’m more than happy to. I hate to think of anyone going through what we did but I’m sure our situation is by no means unique.”