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1st Anniversary

MyBaby2Bump Podcast: The Widowed Dad

  • 7th September 20207th September 2020
  • by Mark Wilcock

Here is the link my last ever ‘Grief’ share – it practically includes everything on my checklist, it’s as raw as it gets in all honesty.

It is in the form of a podcast, for those new to this media.

It has no edits, lots on the charity ‘Widowed and Young’.

Enjoy 

Mark


Main link –https://www.mybump2baby.com/podcasts/fiftyshadesofmotherhood/the-widowed-dad
Via Spotify – https://open.spotify.com/show/2ZzMmFzjg1EsPlGZ8mdYyr

Via Apple – https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/fifty-shades-of-motherhood/id1517280582

Via TuneIn – https://tunein.com/podcasts/Kids–Family-Podcasts/Fifty-Shades-of-Motherhood-p1331099/

Via Stitcher – https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/fifty-shades-of-motherhood?refid=stpr

ViaGooglehttps://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5idXp6c3Byb3V0LmNvbS8xMTQ0ODIwLnJzcw/episode/QnV6enNwcm91dC00Mjg5Mjcz?hl=en-GB&ved=2ahUKEwip1vORhJrqAhXJilwKHZcYAiUQjrkEegQICRAU&ep=6

Being Mum and Dad

BBC Life After Death: How I coped becoming a…

  • 7th September 20208th September 2020
  • by Mark Wilcock

Early this year I received an invitation from the BBC to be involved in the creation of a short documentary around the topic of grief. Well, male grief to be more specific with my own flavour. The creation of this miniseries was to bring together a number of people who had been affected by mental health issues and bereavement.

After 6 hours of filming in my home in Southport and down in London. I was expecting a little more than 9 minutes of footage to be included in the final edit. I’m guessing the whole Covid-19 lockdown played a big part, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. It really did make me think twice about ever doing something like this again. Especially considering the amount of time, effort and personal information Marco and I had initially put in.

Anyhow, that’s enough grumbles from me. I hope this finds the right people out there, even if it just 9 mins of empathy.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/stories-52910362

Best wishes

Mark x

Being Mum and Dad

Insure your love

  • 28th June 201928th June 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

Here’s a question. As a young adult, which one of these insurance policies is the last thing you would pay for?

A: Travel
B: Car
C: Home
D: Life

I’d happily say for the majority that option D, Life insurance, is the one you will contemplate the most! I don’t’ know the exact facts but I’d hazard a guess to say, young people, particularly in their 20’s and 30’s are underinsured when it comes to life.

So, let me break it down.

Legally we have to insure our car to drive it, that’s not up for debate. In reality, we will also look to insure our holidays when we go away. Just in case anything happens to us when we travel abroad.

We might even need to insure our latest, overly priced smartphone. Why not, it’s a valuable piece of kit that captures and records the good times and all the happiness. Plus, in real time it also keeps us in touch with our loved ones too.

Of course, our home is indeed very important. What would happen if it was burnt down whilst being away on that insured holiday? Our home is the place where we spend most of our lives. Happy memories are made there, and we wouldn’t want to be without it, so we insure it.

So, we have the option to protect a lot of things in our lives, but not always the single most important thing– our actual lives! It’s also rather amusing to point out that option D, Life insurance, is the only thing that will pay for all the others if anything happened to us.

When I look back at my life, I find it fascinating how I used to think about life insurance as a young adult. When Katherine was alive I would view the whole meaning of life insurance as redundant. Being in the frame of mind that we were both young, fit and healthy, we had no doubt we would live for another 50+ years. We simply weren’t going to die. We would both naturally suppress any thoughts of our own mortality and we didn’t even want to think or talk about it. As far as it went, Katherine and I were invincible.

Of course, that is not always the case for young adults, sometimes there just isn’t a future – I’m living proof of that. We went out for a walk one day as a family of 3 and returned a family of 2.

Back in mid-2016, Katherine was heavily pregnant with our daughter and we had just bought our first house. Katherine was also due to take maternity leave from work, so as you can imagine money was going to be tight for the next 12 months. We had little choice but to manage on my salary alone. We also had very little in the sense of savings due to our mortgage. So, the thought of even talking about or even purchasing a life insurance policy just wasn’t on the agenda.

Fast forward less than 12 months and Katherine had now been taken away from us. I was left widowed and a single parent to my 8-month-old baby girl. We had no life insurance and the mortgage still needed to be paid for the next 25 years. All of a sudden everything I had never thought about, came straight into view. The entire reality of Katherine’s death and the future consequences had finally hit home, harder than ever.

Throughout this period, the institution I work for couldn’t have been more understanding and accommodating. I was lucky enough to take 6 months leave from work with full pay. I also had the ability to extend my leave further on half my salary. The two big downsides to this were, A) Financially, I couldn’t afford to be off more than this length of time. B) It was only at the 6-month mark that I had only just started to grieve properly.

So here I am, with little choice but to go back to work at a very difficult and dark time in my life. All at the same time as giving my daughter the emotional support she needed and searching for the support I needed. I had to ensure the mortgage and bills got paid and I wasn’t quite ready – but I knew had to secure the future for me and my daughter. I still had to earn money, with everything else going on at the same time too.

The flood of financial worry was the last thing I needed whilst experiencing an explosive tidal wave of grief. It was so tough to balance.

For me it wouldn’t have been about the money, it would have been the greater options open to me whilst grieving. I guess if we had a life insurance policy then everything would have been a lot different. Different in the way that I could have taken more time to grieve with my daughter and to bond to her needs.

This made me realise that we, as partners or parents, don’t buy life insurance because we’re going to die, but because those we love who are left alive are going to live. It’s not for us – it’s for those we love most. So, after Katherine passed there was no procrastinating about purchasing life insurance for myself. It was the first thing I did to protect my daughter’s future.

Like most things in widowhood, I’ve learned the hard way. If every partner or parent knew what I had to learn, there wouldn’t be a single family without life insurance. It gives so much peace of mind to us, the living. It allows us, as spouses, partners or parents to show our love and care posthumously. No matter your age, protecting your family shouldn’t be an option – it should be a priority.

Being Mum and Dad

Father’s Day: A new hope

  • 16th June 201916th June 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

It’s Father’s Day here today and a lot of families across the United Kingdom will assemble to celebrate the fathers in their life — that’s if they were lucky. I guess some aren’t quite as fortunate to be surrounded by their loved ones. I always like to think that someone, somewhere, has that special parent who is both Mum and Dad, whatever the circumstances.

I have never been a massive advocate for Father’s Day until I was widowed. Before I would have just viewed Father’s Day as 1 day out of 365 that was blatantly saved for us to express how incredibly grateful we should be to have a Father. The old me would usually say something like “we should show how much we appreciate our Fathers every single day of lives. The world would be a better place.” I literally viewed all of the “Hallmark” holidays as inventions for commercial promotions.

One strange personality transformation I experienced from loss is that I now live in the present, the ‘Now’. Forget about tomorrow, every single event in life is important. All of ‘Hallmark’ holidays have actually – in reverse, made my world a better place. They have all become completely intensified, no matter which one. They offer me a platform or should I say an excuse to celebrate the important things in life. Not that we should really need one I suppose – but still every day is precious?

My daughter, Margot, is a ‘present’ being too. She even taught me about this life lesson. For the past few months, a day hasn’t gone by when she hasn’t hugged me and said, “I love you so much, Daddy.” For a Father, beautiful words like these are all I need to hear. Though she doesn’t need to say it. She shows it naturally in all her actions. The reason I know this, is in the way she expresses her feeling or emotions in the exact point it’s needed. It leaves no doubt in my mind how my daughter feels about me being her Daddy. It’s visible when she begs me to spend time with her. It’s shown when I see her ‘super’ excited face each time I pick her up from Nursery. She shows me when she jumps with joy when I tell her I’m cooking her favourite meal in the whole wide world.

This Father’s Day, I am surrounded by the most important people in my life as I have come to the realisation I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a father and a new father-in-law, and I am a father too. So, I’m hoping today will be a happy and grateful day for me. This is all the appreciation I need this Father’s Day and beyond.

We may not have Katherine in our lives anymore, but we do have her energy, her love and her humour around us at all times. We have recently started the next chapter in our lives, our second chance, with my wife Nicola. I now have someone to tell me how they appreciate me, to tell me I’m doing a good job with Margot, to thank me. Which is so different and revitalising – as a Dad on Father’s Day I never really got the chance to experience this until today.

Nicola is someone who Margot can appreciate too, someone who Margot can call upon to write me a card or buy me a present. Gone are the days when I would use Margot’s savings and say “gosh Margot, your taste is impeccable” – as I opened the Father’s Day present I bought myself.

Mark, Margot and Nicola.

For those who haven’t, it might either be a time for reflection or time to avoid the television, restaurants, pubs or any other outlets that inadvertently make us feel worse than we already do by treating us all as if we’re the same. Maybe it’s time to celebrate that special Mum you might still have. The one who became Mum and Dad, the one who gave you everything she could?

For those of us who are lucky enough to actually have a father, it’s probably time to send a thoughtful card, pick up the phone or make a visit to show him how much you care. So, to those of you reading this – go and thank your Dad for all that he does and make sure to remind him how much you love him.

• Thank him for the countless times he might have driven you to Football practice

• Thank him for the countless times he taught you a life skill.

• Thank him for paying your mobile phone bill or for that money you needed to borrow.

• Thank him for calming your Mum down when she went crazy because you haven’t’ been pulling your weight around the house.

• Thank him for being there, when you needed him!

• Thank him for everything little thing he does for you. This is what we call ‘unconditional’ love.

Dad if you ever read this — I love you. Thank you for everything.

Being Mum and Dad

Speaking out

  • 11th June 201911th June 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

As it is ‘Men’s Health Week’ and also the run-up to Father’s Day I have shared my story of widowhood and beyond – in this week’s Bella Magazine. In the article, I speak out about being widowed, facing grief and the importance for other young widowers to reach out for support.

Being Mum and Dad

BBC Radio Merseyside Interview

  • 13th May 201913th May 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

Broadcast courtesy of BBC Radio Merseyside with Sean Styles. Aired on 13th May 2019

Anniversaries

738 days before widowhood

  • 24th April 201924th April 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

‘Hauoli la Ho’omana’o’ is Hawaiian for ‘Happy Anniversary’.

Hauoli la Ho’omana’o to this very day which took place 4 years ago in 2015 on Wai’alae beach, Oahu, Hawaii. Back then, our wedding was probably the happiest day of my life before Margot was born.

Now, it’s just an anniversary without the happy. There’s nothing to celebrate. If anything, it would be the 738 days we enjoyed as a married couple. To celebrate the love for someone that I will always be grateful to have found.


Wai’alae beach, Oahu, Hawaii (2015)

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to write something meaningful for today. I just haven’t found the right words.

Apart from deeply missing Katherine within each day of my life. The craziest part of days’ like these is the thought of not receiving a card containing her handwriting. It’s just something really sacred and personal we had in our relationship that I would really look forward to. She wrote the best cards with the most thoughtful messages. As much as I tried, I could never compete with her words of happiness for the love we shared.

Last year I decided I didn’t want to ever mark this anniversary for the reason that 7 days is all that separates it from my wife’s passing. However positive I try to be, it’s just been too hard.

I was woken up a little earlier than normal by Margot this morning. So I decided that before I went to work, I was going to spend more time than normal with my daughter. We played, chatted and had breakfast together. We enjoyed lots of special ‘squishy’ cuddles and I told her how much I love her. I attempted some light toddler talk to explain just how much she means to me.

You just can’t help but laugh when your child delivers a response like “stop being silly Daddy, you’re a good boy and I’m a good girl. We can both have chocolate eggs today, ok”. I guess we both wanted to start our day in jubilant fashion. We did eventually manage to set off to her Nana’s house with a chocolate egg, secretly stashed for later this evening.

After I dropped her off, I then drove to my place of work. I shuffled Spotify in my car and ‘Telephone Line’ by ELO started to play. I didn’t feel the need to press the shuffle button again. I just listened as I drove.

I hadn’t heard this song for a long time. Ironically, it made me think about just how much I wanted to speak to Katherine again, even if it was just over a telephone line. I even managed to make myself chuckle as I imagined just how much the phone bill would be.

I miss her so much.

I thought about the meaning of today and made the decision that going forward, Katherine’s birthday should be the date I mark with my daughter. A day to smile and celebrate.

Maybe one day in the future I’ll tell her the significance, but in many ways, today is just another day for now. And yet, when I think about it, today could also be a day that changes everything for someone else. I’m here writing about my thoughts on it. Sharing my reasoning and experience with other people. Possibly helping others that could be searching for stories to help their own life after the loss of a loved one.

Maybe this is something meaningful after all?

I always try to understand that my scenario of bereavement was totally out of my control. It can’t control me forever too. So for now, today has nothing to offer me but pain. It is definitely not about others behaving any more lovingly towards me or Margot. It’s certainly not about cards, gifts or gestures anymore.

  • For me, it’s about being thankful to have had the 738 days of marriage to Katherine.
  • For me, it’s about the people who came to Hawaii that are still in my life.
  • For me, today’s a day I give special thanks that Katherine made me a Dad to such a wonderful little girl.
  • For me, It’s about being the one who’s lucky enough to be able to spend another day with my daughter.
  • For me, it’s about dropping my daughter off at her Nana’s and she was happy.
Accepting the new you

Widowed Parenthood: Back to the future

  • 15th April 201916th April 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

Last week I went back to the future. I had one of those spontaneous moments when we bump into someone we haven’t seen for a while. For me, it was an old work colleague. I hadn’t seen this fellow for a very long time. We managed to avoid most of the pointless small talk, it was one of those good and meaningful catch ups. With the added highlight that he had recently become a stay at home Dad. Despite my single parent widower status being the only variance in circumstance, we exchanged our parental knowledge.

Regardless of us no longer working collaboratively, we gradually discovered just how much we still had in common. We found alignment in our views and all the parental pearls of wisdom we had gained. Later that day, I started to have mixed emotions around the whole conversation. As nice as it was, it was hard to swallow the fact that we were still different in a big way, he had a wife and his child had a mother.

I knew I had to remember the positive outcome of the conversation. We were just two young men, each doing a job as a parent without making a fuss, but should we be making a fuss? I started to think about how Dads could have a positive side effect on how we see men in general. In truth, the stereotypical view of Dad’s in our society has come a very long way from when I was a child. Yet I accept our society’s view hasn’t fully changed. I know I could easily start a debate if I asked a majority of parents if they thought a Dad’s job was to earn money, and a Mum’s job is to look after the home and family.

By stepping up to the mark, have I defined a more positive view on what we think is typical of the average man. On reflection, Yes, I have. Should I be writing about it? Absolutely!

I can walk around with a happy face on most of the time, but in reality, I do live in a crazy world. I have learnt to become the master juggler of nursery drop-offs, pickups, running a clean and happy home, giving out buckets of unconditional love, making meals and working full time. Somewhere in the midst of all that chaos, I do actually find some ‘me’ time too. Is it tough? Of course.

I can honestly say that I don’t like it at all, I absolutely love it!

The past highlights of the nightime feeding, teething, learning to eat, immunisations, first steps, first words, birthday parties, playgroup activities, potty training, family holidays… to name a few, where massive challenges. However, it is these moments that make me feel happy too. Happy to have achieved a milestone for my child. Having been through all these moments alone I always sign each one off with “Marky boy, take a bow son”, I always feel proud. I never doubt that in my mind that, if Katherine was alive, she would be proud too.

I don’t like writing this, but I feel I should point it out. Sadly, there will always be families out there with both parents at a disadvantage. Some children might miss something from a family with both parents. Maybe it is out of the parents’ control and they have to work around the clock, or they work nights? Could it be one of the parents isn’t actually interested? Maybe love isn’t expressed openly in a family? My point being, in some cases many single-parent families are doing a much better job raising children than families with both parents.

I want my little girl, Margot, to grow up knowing that raising children isn’t a man or a woman’s job but it’s the job of a parent. Social class or status means nothing in terms of life and happiness. I want her to understand that men and women can be whatever they want. I’ve absorbed both the Mum and Dad roles into a hybrid version of myself. What I have turned into has extended beyond all those traits considered to be the stereotype of masculinity.

Does this fit your situation, or can you relate to what I am describing? Then you should know it’s going to be ok for your child or children. You’re going to be ok. I used to ponder how I was going to get through it all. I’m here and it’s all working out, in it’s own strange and adapted way. We should all feel proud to be a Dad. Even within the hardest years.

For me, there is no better description of how it feels to be a parent than in the words of the author, Elizabeth Stone. Having a child is like consenting to have your heart walk around outside of your body! And this is why we put our heart and soul into our role. Especially with being a widowed single parent Dad challenging traditional stereotypes of masculinity and fundamentally redefining what it means to be a man.

Accepting the new you

Dad’s who can

  • 8th April 20198th April 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

Over the weekend, I took my little girl out to the local amusement park, Pleasureland in Southport. This is what I like to class as ‘quality’ time together. We generated lots of fun and laughter. It had generously refilled my love, happiness and content levels to the brim. I also, subconsciously had my writing cap and the day got me thinking. Without sounding morbid. As widowed single parents, how sad are we, and how sad have we been? And why is it people like me, that like to let you know.

I know that the real factor behind this thought was that I now have a long-term outlet for my grief, my blog. I have the ability to reach out to fellow widowers. My intention was never to discover the answers. My aim is to communicate the themes of loss and grief for men. I want to provoke some thought into my experience. To support people just like me and give some insight into the answers I originally fought for.

By the end of the day, it became apparent that my initial feelings had led me to see just how far I’ve come in 2 years. I’ve realised that I’m now at a point now where I was balancing the demands of my full-time job and the demands of my child. She was only adapting to this new world. A world where she doesn’t even know her Mum or the events that have occurred. Yet, she is the happiest little girl that any parent could ask for.

Despite what has happened in our past, I have always put my family first. This made me feel good. Good in the sense that I have confronted the reality of my new life. As an adult, I reached out for support when I’ve needed it. As a blogger, I’ve also strived to communicate as effectively as I can to everyone around me. Now I can start to see the outputs of my decisions and actions. The positives in my life are really starting to shine through.

I gradually started to reflect on exactly what were my actions and how did I employ them? By the end of the day, I thought to myself, “I need to get the main points out of my head and onto paper”.

Intervention when I needed it

I’ve managed to get through the heavy and hard stages of grief. I’ve managed to accept them as they’ve come. I’ve waded through each one in my own time until I was ready to move onto the next wave. I’ve allowed myself the time I needed to also heal some of my wounds. I’d sought counselling when I needed it. My process of learning to cope without my wife was and is a tough, complex and complicated path. Being able to accept the counselling I needed has also helped me become a better Dad to Margot. I’ve developed a warmer, more nurturing and sensitive side for her to enjoy.

I also joined various support groups for those who have survived the death of a spouse. One was with the national charity, Widowed & Young (WAY). I was always aware of WAY, I just never got around to explore the organisation at the beginning. However, this is where my self-assurance in widowhood really started to grow. They offer a vast support network tailored for young widowed men and women. When I discovered how members sought to understand and help others, the feeling of isolation seemed like a thing of the past. Peer support from someone who suffers from their own pain of bereavement is probably the most selfless and noble ability I’ve witnessed.

Since the beginning, I desired the ability to communicate with others in my position. It was here all along, physically and virtually. My only regret is that I never became involved earlier.

Accepting help from my friends and family

When help was offered to me, I always accepted it. For me, there are few things in life more tragic than losing a wife and the mother of my child. My family, friends, neighbours and extended family members all offered help to me. I wouldn’t be where I am now if I hadn’t been willing to accept it graciously and allow others the opportunity to serve my family.

I kept traditions alive

No matter how big or small, I maintained our family traditions. Though traditions are predictable in certain points of time. Amongst the chaos, for me, they brought real stability in my home. Decorating the Christmas tree early was a thing; I chose not to ignore the tradition as much as I didn’t mentally feel like doing it. I even ensured I took my daughter away holiday once a year, even if it has to be modest to be affordable. Whatever the traditions are, hang onto them as a family.

I organised my home

Getting yourself organised as best you can be tricky whilst grieving, for obvious reasons. Some of the family routines had been Katherine’s domain, but now it had fallen upon me to take them all on. The more I made routine tasks more “automated,” the easier the transition became for me. When I eventually managed to schedule my weekday evenings for things like laundry, shopping, and cleaning, the more single parent life became manageable.

I discovered that when I could get these tasks completed in the week, it took a huge amount of stress off the weekends. More importantly, I work full time. This enabled me to experience more fun and quality time with my daughter.

Healthy body = Healthy Mind

The hardest and most important balance of them all is monitoring your health. Like me, many newly widowed fathers will neglect their own physical, mental or emotional health while going through grief. Before my wife passed I was an active runner. Each week I would run 3-4 times a week. When she left us, exercise seemed like the most impossible element to maintain in my life. I rightly focused on my own daughter and not me. I drove myself into the ground. I didn’t exercise. I didn’t eat right and when the night came so did the drink.

If and when you can. Try to include as much exercise as you can. Even if it just playing in the garden or going for a walk with your child. At one stage, during the early days. I bought a treadmill and placed it in an empty part of my house. I would purposely set my morning alarm an hour before my daughter would wake, I’d run 3 miles before breakfast. For me running was more like meditation. It would allow me to ponder my thoughts and let me focus on the day ahead.

If you are a recently widowed father. You can find lots of support, help and advice. You will no doubt need to follow your heart when you feel you’re ready to accept it. At first, it will be difficult to see any horizon. By taking the process slowly and naturally will allow you to move through this most difficult of situations and transitions in a more positive way than you might see presently. I have listed a few of the services I’ve used within the ‘Widower Support’ page of my blog.

Accepting the new you

Man down

  • 5th April 20195th April 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

As I approach the second anniversary of my wife’s death, I anticipate the multitude of emotions that will no doubt, return. There has always been attention paid to grief and its connections to health and illness. My experience and the impact between mental wellbeing and grief was pretty much textbook.

It wasn’t too long ago, I looked at myself in the mirror and acknowledged that my life will never be the same as it once was. I could face the fact that life, in general, doesn’t’ always go to plan. No matter what our story is. My life went in one direction and within a blink of an eye, it faced a different one.

I never planned it, and I never once asked for the direction it went. However, it wasn’t’ just my life that changed direction, it was also a range of other elements, such as my wellbeing.

The concern around my mental health was a common theme in my grieving.
From the beginning, the loss of my wife generated huge vulnerability and mental limitations. It had shaken the foundations of meaning and produced considerable suffering for me. My mind found reality too traumatic to deal with and too painful. My brain spontaneously took the action it needed to protect its host.

I did have days when my head would be overloaded with torturous thoughts and visions. One specific thought I duelled with constantly was how Katherine would have managed if I had been the one to have died. How would she have coped and was I content for me to live in this pain and not her? I also tortured myself during milestone moments with my daughter. I would imagine in my mind just how Katherine would have responded and expressed her happiness observing Margot’s behaviour.

Apparitions would appear during moments when Margot took her first steps, spoke her first words, had her first birthday, went on her first holiday. Even the more obscure and funny moments with my daughter would be bittersweet. It would break my heart into pieces when I’d think about it too much. It really did bring tears to my eyes.

Loneliness was a massive factor in my wellbeing. I always remember when I began to sink emotionally. During the weeks and months after the funeral as most people, apart from family, had started to drift away. The loneliness officially started to kick in. I felt that I was no longer part of the couples’ world and I had no one who understood what I was going through.

At first, I refused to seek help or change course for the deviations I noticed. Instead, I decided to go away with friends for a winter holiday to Spain. My aim was to clear my mind and create some happy memories for me and my daughter. Each day was meant to be filled with fun and laughter in the sun. In reality, I just ended up duelling with my mind more so than ever. I returned home and all of the facades of doing OK came apart and the depression took over. Everything came crashing down on me. I became dependant on alcohol and I cried, a hell of a lot; I was incredibly sad and lonely.

Spain 2018, Daddy & Margot (the brave ones)

After dropping my daughter off at the nursery in the morning, I would drive into work, park my car, sit with my head on the wheel and stir at my knees as my eyes rained onto them. It would take at least ten minutes each day before I could get myself out of the car and go to work.

It was only when I discovered support from the charity sector and from a specialist service that my wellbeing started to change for the better. This didn’t happen overnight, it took dedication and openness to find mindfulness. One key element that really helped me was discovering somebody who had been through what I was going through. Someone who was also a widower and a single parent. I had found someone who had come out the other side and it gave me great hope. Margot was going to be ok. I was going to be ok.

From my support days, I really want to touch upon a broad component of widowhood that I have observed. I had discovered that expressions of grief were sometimes very deeply gendered. I found that some men would grieve in a way that can only be described as a masculine practice. It was almost as if some felt judged and alienated to show raw emotion. All I could think of was the term “man-up” as some adopted a form of toughness. The feeling of crying or even attending a support session resembled some sort of weakness.

I understand we’re all very different and express ourselves in our own way. However, when expressing and releasing grief, I think it’s really important for men to open up. It is equally important to know there’s nothing wrong with tears. It’s ok for a man to cry, in fact, it’s more than ok to cry. I say this in the contest to the perceptions of male grief and the entire ‘Harden up’, ‘Man up’ and ‘Suck it up’ medals of honour.

I can’t emphasise how important all of this was for my journey. Timely support protected me against the risk of poor mental wellbeing. Please don’t have any shame in seeking specialist/professional interventions. Grief cannot simply be suppressed. It will eventually catch with you at some stage in your life.

I recalled a story more recently describing how Prince Harry revealed that he sought counselling after twenty years of bottling up his grief. He had unhealthily suppressed his emotions after losing his mother when he was twelve and came close to a complete breakdown. In an ideal world, I guess if our society was to understand the impact of bereavement better, it would be more geared up to support those in need and to prevent any form of depression from grieving.

Being Mum and Dad

Children’s grief: The long and winding road

  • 25th March 201925th March 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

As adults, it’s never easy dealing with the topic of death. As widowers, It’s occurred to us all. It may have been a sudden, expected, prolonged or accidental loss. Though we know it’s an inevitable part of all our lives, talking about death is something most of us aren’t really good at because the subject is so painful. We simply just aren’t prepared for the aftermath, especially if you’ve also become a single parent in the same making.

My daughter, Margot, was only 8 months old when my wife passed, which meant I had to carry her grief as well as my own. Since I’ve been a widower and single parent my mind has constantly been packed to the rafters about so many issues. I guess it would have been much harder for her to move through if she had been a lot older. If I’m deeply honest, because of her age she hasn’t really been affected emotionally at all yet. The world around her has simply adapted itself to support her needs.

Talking about a bereavement to our children is a damn painful and damn complex position to be in. Where do you begin? The thought of what to say and how to say overwhelmed me for a long time. Part of the experience is finding ways to express what happened so it would be better for her to make sense of what happened, and finally, for her to accept what happened. I’ve had to be proactive in my approach for a while as I wanted to prepare her to deal with situations the best she can.

In terms of carving out the rules from scratch, my main concern was to do what’s right for her needs and to avoid as much pain as possible down this delicate path.

Strangely over the last year or so I’ve found she’s at her happiest state when she sees me happy, it’s like some sort of sixth sense. With this in mind, I always let her know how I’m feeling and spread as much laughter and love around us as possible. This doesn’t mean I tell her any old nonsense. I just don’t hide any of my true emotions from her, if I did she is isn’t going to grow to become the person I want her to be. She doesn’t understand yet, but I’ve always been honest with her from the beginning and I will continue to be. How can I justify myself to be happy to my daughter when sometimes I’m not? It’s really important to show the emotions that I feel. so, she can show them back and understand it’s OK to do so.

My reason for this is that I really don’t want Margot to hide her feelings from me if she is emotional. Overtime when she grows I don’t want her to develop any low confidence, stress or anxiety about this situation. I intend to encourage her to talk and reflect with me about how she feels. Not only in the now, but also how she felt previously in the past, to leave no stone unturned at any point.

Being only 2 years old she won’t understand certain words like death, ever, and never? But she needs to learn them at some point which is why I have recently purchased the children’s book ’Badger’s Parting Gifts’. It’s really supportive in dealing with the end of life and it handles the subject brilliantly. The concept is that Badger is getting old and he begins to prepare for his own big journey to old age and the inevitable death. He gives each of his friends something (positives from his life) to remember him by before he leaves. The illustrations are enchanting, and the moment of Badger’s death is beautifully handled as he runs down the last tunnel, throwing his stick away. I have no hesitation in recommending this book to anybody faced with explaining death to a child.


Badger’s Parting Gifts: 35th Anniversary Edition of a picture book to help children deal with death

In terms of explaining things about her Mum, I want to tell her the truth – this is the most important factor! I can’t tell her one-story now and change it when she’s’ 5,6,7,8 years old, just to ease her mind. I really don’t see this as being fair or honest to her. I want her to understand it as she grows so she can deal with the world around her better on a daily basis. I made a conscious effort to tell all my friends and family to never ever use the term “she’s gone to a better place”. She’s not gone to a better place, has she. If Katherine could choose she wouldn’t be there. I never want Margot to think “why is it better than being with me here” and “how can I go there”. For the next few years, I’m happy to use terms like “she’s gone away and can’t come back” and “she’d never have left you and she didn’t want to go”.

I’ve managed to collate this path from my own experience and countless nights of deep thinking. I’ve also gathered a few bits from the free and professional support services available to widowers. I’ve not had to deal with a child who has encountered grief head-on. In a society that is often too afraid to talk to children about death, bereaved kids need to have somewhere safe and non-judgmental to turn. I’m sure the services I’ve used will make a world of difference to bereaved children. I’ve listed the ones I’ve used below:

Cruse Bereavement Care: https://www.cruse.org.uk/get-help/about-grief/childrens-grief

Winston’s Wish: https://www.winstonswish.org/

Child Bereavement UK: https://childbereavementuk.org/

Accepting the new you

Bacardi & coke and a pint of grief, please

  • 19th March 201919th March 2019
  • by Mark Wilcock

When Sudden Arrhythmic Death Syndrome (SADS) first introduced me to grief, alcohol was everywhere. For the first 7 months, during the evening’s, once my daughter had gone to sleep I would frequently self-medicate. I became dependant on it to help numb and avoid my pain. If I’m honest, when the silence came so did the darkness. Alcohol was the only thing I knew I could use to beat grief away just so I could avoid or postpone it that little bit longer. Without it I knew as soon as I took my ‘Dad’ hat off, I would crumble. Grief was a new beast I’d never encountered. I just wasn’t ready for it. Alcohol was my weapon, without it I’d simply be punching smoke.

For me, using alcohol to sedate myself was just one phase of my widowhood I had to go through. Especially when dealing with the sudden death of my wife. It was only last weekend when I started to think about just how cohesive alcohol is in all our lives. It’s so deeply integrated that we don’t even notice how acceptable it is. Life is good? Have a drink. Life is shit? Have a drink. Out celebrating, are we? Have a drink? Cooking a nice steak at home tonight? You don’t have to drive – roll out the bottles of red. At a wedding? Oooh, free drinks. Wetting the baby’s head? Have a drink. Big match on the television? Then it’s beer o’clock. At a funeral? You guessed it – drinks! It’s probably safe to say unless you work in a pub or restaurant, your place of work is the safest place to avoid alcohol.

This grief self-care medicine created a massive gap between knowledge and behaviour. At the back of my mind, I always knew it was a risk to become dependent on drinking the pain away, it wasn’t a healthy coping skill. Being a single parent, I had responsibilities. I had to be Mum and Dad. I knew people would be looking at me to see how I was coping. Plus, who has ever made a good decision when drinking? Somehow, I just found a deeper connection between rationalisation and alcohol. It addressed the symptoms of my grief, not the underlying problems. It made a real exploration of the underlying issues more difficult, masking them with a temporary “fix” and delaying me from addressing the feelings I should address. It put me at high risk for developing dependence. It put a strain on my body and more importantly my mind.


Not the magic healing potion I thought!

I’ve always loved craft beers and fine wines, I still do to this day. I’d be one of the biggest hypocrites in the world to say you have to cut it all out of your life. It is really important to highlight that your grief can always put you at risk of developing a problem. I feel nothing but shame when I look back now. Once I could eventually break the cycle I knew I could embrace my grief and make it part of my life. This is what I described in the analogy of grief I shared last week. I can always recall the groundhog day feeling each morning I would wake up after drinking, the grief was still there looking back at me, it never went anywhere. This is when I soon realised that the only way to release my strong emotions is to feel them. This made me discover more self-awareness and it enforced more moderation of certain things into my life.

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