Finding solace in poetry: Catherine’s story

March 2026

When former WAY member Catherine’s wife Rebecca died seven years ago, she turned to poetry as an outlet for her grief. Now she has published a collection of poetry that documents her grief journey…

“My wife Rebecca’s death at the age of 33 was both expected and a terrible shock. She’d had cancer some years previously, but as time went by, we’d tentatively been moving forward with our lives. Her course of treatment had sadly required a hysterectomy, but we felt grateful that I was still in a position to have children. Our optimism, however, soon turned to heartache as we discovered that I had some issues with my own fertility. Over the next two years, we went through several courses of fertility treatment, one of which resulted in the physical and mental trauma of an ectopic pregnancy. But then, at last, we had a successful cycle of IVF.

When we found out I was pregnant, it felt like our luck might finally have turned. The day of my 12-week scan was magical: everything was looking good and I finally let myself believe that we’d have the future we’d dreamed of together. 

The following morning, Rebecca had a routine check-up at the hospital. We were devastated when we learned the cancer had returned. The rest of my pregnancy was a blur as Rebecca underwent surgeries and radiotherapy, both of us exhausted and trying to hold things together as we prepared for the baby. 

Our son, Isaac, was born in March 2018 and was everything we’d ever wanted. But just a few weeks later, we found out that Rebecca’s cancer was now terminal. I rushed to find a job to start after my maternity leave, as my current contract was about to end. Somehow, through the tiredness of trying to look after Isaac and Rebecca, I secured a new job, but it required a move from the South to the Midlands. Rebecca was about to start a new kind of chemotherapy, and we hoped that it would buy her a year or so while we settled into our new lives. Just five days after moving, though – with boxes still unpacked and furniture yet to be assembled – a scan revealed that the cancer was now untreatable. Rebecca died six weeks later, in January 2019.

Learning to live with grief

To say I felt terrified is an understatement. We’d been together since our early twenties and I felt lost without her. I was exhausted, trying to grieve while also looking after our son and attempting to put down roots in a new city. Our friends were wonderful, visiting from Oxford, London and Wales, but I really missed having someone to pop round for a cup of tea when I was struggling or to bring over a hot meal when I was too tired to cook.

I found WAY early on in my bereavement journey and it was a real lifeline; I immediately had a group of people who knew exactly what I was going through. Some of the new friends I made had already been bereaved for a number of years, and I found it a comfort to see that they had found a way to move forward with their lives. 

Grief affected me in ways that I hadn’t anticipated. Despite being a lifelong bookworm, for example, I suddenly found that I no longer had the concentration to read. As the months passed, though, I began to find solace in poetry. It’s much easier to read a couple of poems than it is to plough through a chapter of a novel, and there’s something about poetry that takes you right to the heart of the human condition. 

It was around this time that I started to write my own poetry. At this point, it was purely a way for me to process my feelings. I’d expected to feel sad when Rebecca died, but I’d been unsettled by the other emotions: anger, fear, resentment. Becoming a mother and a widow within a few short months had left me unsure of who I was anymore; writing poetry allowed me the creative space to work through my experiences. 

I hadn’t intended to show anyone my work, but when I met a new partner, Adam, he encouraged me to send my writing out into the world. I began submitting to poetry journals, and in 2022 I got my first acceptance. Seeing my poem in print was amazing and gave me the confidence to carry on. Since then, I’ve had poems published in a number of magazines and anthologies. 

Helping others

I think the most satisfying thing for me is knowing that my words are helping others. A poem of mine was recently featured in a podcast and I received emails from bereaved people all over world telling me that my writing had spoken to them. 

Over the years, people have encouraged me to put together a collection of my poetry, and I was delighted when my book, The Way the Water Held Me, was accepted for publication. It covers my entire grief journey, from finding out about Rebecca’s illness through to getting remarried and building a new life. After Rebecca died, I spent a lot of time feeling confused and embarrassed about how I grieved, so it was really important to me not to shy away from the complexities of bereavement in the collection; I want people to come away from it knowing that it’s alright to struggle, that it’s okay not to be okay. I also wanted to offer my readers some gentle hope and strength: the poems are full of little motifs such as flowers blooming through cracks or new shoots emerging from tired ground. 

I thought that I’d never truly feel happy again after I lost Rebecca, but I’ve found different ways to move forward and I know that she’d be thrilled for me. She died tragically young, and for my life to be over as well as hers would have been the last thing she’d have wanted. In writing, raising our son, and finding love with a new partner, I feel I’m honouring her and thanking her for all the love and support she gave me in the precious years we had together.”

The Way the Water Held Me by Catherine Redford (The Emma Press) is available now from all good bookshops, priced £10.99.

For a chance to win a copy of Catherine’s book, please enter your details below before 12noon on 22 April 2026. We will be announcing the winner in April.