After my second divorce, I decided relationships werent for me anymore. I kept people at arms length, making myself as unapproachable as possibleperhaps trying to shield myself from any emotional risk. But then I met her. She left an unforgettable impression on me. From that evening onward, we were together, though neither of us could have imagined how profoundly our lives would change.
We spent seventeen years side by side. She wasnt just my wifeshe was my best friend. Her energy, wit, strength, and compassion amazed me every day. She stood by me through every hardship, lifting my spirits even in the darkest moments. We laughed together, dreamed of the future, and built little traditions that became the fabric of our lives.
When the doctors diagnosed her with cancer, we knew the battle would be hard. She fought for eighteen monthsbravely, unbroken. But the disease was relentless. Three months ago, I lost her. The wound in my heart is still raw.
What keeps me going is our child. We share an unbreakable bond, and through him, I find the strength to keep moving. Fatherhood is a giftone that anchors me, stopping me from drowning in grief. When I see his smile, his wonder at the world, his trust in me, I know my life still has meaning.
Once it became clear she wouldnt stay, I tried preparing myself for the loss. I imagined doing things alone, managing without her support. But while you can brace for the big moments, its the small, everyday things that remind you theyre gone.
Simple, almost silly things. Like how we always watched *Antiques Roadshow* together on Sundays. Wed sit on the sofa, guessing the value of items and laughing. Now I watch it alone, and the silence beside me aches. Every episode brings fresh painthose ordinary moments now hollow without her.
Then theres bedtime. You can hug a dozen pillows, rearrange the sheets, but nothing replaces the warmth of someone you love. The emptiness beside me sometimes feels like a physical wound.
Yet I keep living. I find joy in small thingsour childs laughter, quiet walks through London, little rituals Ive created to feel her presence. I hold onto our life together, our lovereal and enduringwhich still gives me strength.
Being a father is my purpose now. His smile, his hugs, his daily discoveries give me courage, even when my heart breaks. Ive learned to cherish each moment, knowing how suddenly loss can come.
I never thought Id survive this. But my love for our child, my memories of her, our familys storythey make me stronger. Ive realised life doesnt end with the ones we lose. It continues in what we pass on, how we keep loving, in care and remembrance.
Even in the darkest hours, I find strength. Because our love hasnt vanishedits just changed form. Its in our child, in everyday details, in memories and the quiet music of a heart that remembers. And thats what tells me: life goes on, carrying what was true and precious with it.
