How do you survive losing the love of your life?

I don’t quite know but my husband would be bloody furious if I didn’t at least try and put up a fight.

As we always have … did.

My husband. My. Husband. Stephen. My Stevie.

A giant of a man; veteran journalist with a fierce intellect; an acerbic wit; unashamed pedant; dubbed “Wilkipedia” ... rather smug about it too.

And a genuinely good man with a generous heart who I loved very dearly.

We learned in summer 2021 that he had terminal liver cancer and only 18 months to live.

I hyperventilated. Stephen went back to work. Typical. I followed his lead. Typically.

We were private people who drew strength from each other; battened down the hatches and focussed our time and energy on Stephen’s health and happiness. Priorities.

We did visit Maggie’s in Fife a couple of times … dodged the counselling and group sessions (typically) but were very grateful for the coffee and chats, the financial advice and will writing service.

It was a Maggie’s nurse who said that it was now time to prepare for the very worst when we visited the centre in the grounds of Kirkcaldy’s Victoria Hospital in October 2022.

My brain was split in two, you see – the carer who could see the signs and the wife who didn’t want to see the signs. I was grateful for her candour and wise counsel.

Cue the NHS. They literally threw their protective arms around us … thank you. THANK YOU. We will never forget Aunt Naomi from our Cardenden practice or Nurse Corrinna for the love and the strength.

And to our inner circle of friends who gathered so closely in that bleak midwinter…. to those who offered to walk the dog or who made a delivery to our home … who sent a kind and thoughtful message of support.

I was so very proud of Stephen for his strength and his fortitude ...

I lost him on Christmas Day.

He didn’t get to open his presents. They were left sitting under the tree for the next fortnight … or so. I think.

I hope people will understand why I therefore cannot celebrate this Christmas.

And I can’t do grief either. Grief isn’t tears and heartbreak but an actual physical assault.

So, I have resolved to outmanoeuvre grief and pay tribute to my husband by hiking a half marathon on Monday, December 25.

I would rather hike than run so that I am out there for five or six hours with my Labrador, Bear (if you include stops and a packed lunch).

We will bag the 13.1mile circumference of the beautiful RSPB reserve at Loch Leven and raise money for Maggie’s, as Stephen had wished.

And we will complete it as the sun goes down, marking exactly one year since Stephen passed. No more pain.

Perhaps you will never survive losing the love of your life, to answer my original question.

But I think you can at least strive.

I hope you are proud, Stevie.

That I am striving.

Typically.

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