About Me
Why This Conversation.
I didn't plan to become the person who talks about this — being a widow, losing the love of my life. I planned a whole life with my husband, and then he died unexpectedly. JRM lived with Motor Neurone Disease for 14 months, but even so, his death came without warning — a side effect of the MND caused complications to his internal organs. Even when someone is ill, you still don't know when their final day will come.
I am finding out that grief doesn't come with an instruction manual — it comes with everyone around you reaching for a typical script anyway — "He's in a better place." "Time heals." "At least you had love." I didn't want to hear any of it, and I still don't.
So I started talking, unscripted, about what losing him actually looks like day to day — the parts nobody warns you about, the practical mess that adds more stress than you need on top of the heartbreak, and the way people's help evaporates the moment you actually need it.
This isn't a grief journey with 5 or 10 neat stages and a bow on top. It's me, experiencing it in real time, saying the things people think but don't say out loud. If you're here because you're in it too, you won't find advice on how to "move on." You'll find someone who isn't pretending it's fine — and who thinks that's exactly what makes it bearable.
Thanks ~ Deborah
What I've Learnt So Far
The Widow's Journey – The 3 R's
01
Realisations
There are things nobody tells you, because most people haven't lived them. That grief doesn't follow a script. That the help people promise rarely shows up exactly when you need it or at all. That the silence after everyone stops checking in is louder than anything they said while they still were. I didn't arrive at these on purpose — they showed up, one by one, in the middle of ordinary days, and I've stopped pretending they didn't. Death bites big time.
02
Reflections
This is where the regret lives — the unsaid words, the time I assumed I'd have more of, the questions I'll never get answered now. I ask myself, more than I'd like to admit, whether I did enough as his wife. I find myself apologising to his picture when the regret kicks in. I don't have a tidy answer. I'm not sure anyone does. But looking back honestly, even when it stings, feels more honest than looking away from it.
03
Reality
Some days look like getting out of bed and calling that a win. Some days look like still wearing my wedding rings and daring anyone to say something about it. This isn't the “journey” people picture when they hear the word — there's no arc, no lesson learned by page three. It's just what actually happens, told the way it actually happened, without the parts smoothed over for anyone's comfort. This is my journey now.
Death = Grief
No Euphemisms Here. This is What it Actually is.
G
Grief doesn't follow a script. Given to us because we loved, not something we agreed to. Give yourself grace.
R
Real, raw, and rarely convenient. Ripples out to everyone who loved them, not just you. Release it all with reverence.
I
Isn't a straight line and never was meant to be. In your own time — not anyone else's timeline for you. Insight in time.
E
Everyone grieves differently; there's no "right" way. Exists alongside living — you don't have to choose between them.
F
Feels unfair, because it is. Forever changes you, and that's not something to fix. Focus on you from the inside.
Let's Relate. Let's Connect.
If any of this sounds like your own head at 2am, you're not alone in it — even if it feels that way most days. Come find me where I actually show up: unscripted, unfiltered, sharing what this has been like for me — not the answer, just my own . . . thoughts, feelings and words. Follow along, send a message, tell me what resonates or what you're experiencing. This isn't a brand talking at you. It's one widow, talking to whoever needs to hear it, while getting it off her own chest.
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My Focus
One Day at a Time . . . Literally
Not because it's a nice saying — because most days you genuinely can't see past dinner, let alone next month. Some mornings, getting through it means answering three emails and calling that a win. Other days it means staying in bed and not apologising for it. There's no timeline anyone handed you a copy of, so stop measuring yourself against one you never agreed to. Grief is a wave, so flow with it. Rewrite your own script . . . one day at a time.
Ask for Help When Needed
It takes courage to ask when you're the one in distress. Here's the part people skip over: you'll ask, and some people won't come through the way they said they would. That still stings, every time. Ask anyway — specifically, not vaguely, because "let me know if you need anything" rarely turns into anything real. Name the exact thing: an hour, a form filled out, a ride, someone to sit with you on a bad Tuesday. The right people will show up. Asking is how you find out who they are.
Be Gentle With Yourself
We're always the last ones we take care of. My husband had carers coming in three times a week to help him shower, and some weeks I couldn't tell you the last time I managed one myself. That's not devotion — it's just where your own needs land on the list when someone else needs you more. You'll snap at someone who didn't deserve it. You'll forget something that mattered. You'll wear the same thing three days running and not care. None of that is failure. It's just what this actually looks like, up close.
Contact Me
Feel Free to Reach Out for Any Enquiries.