Sharing Stories, Strengthening Hope: Andrew’s story

November 2025

To mark Children’s Grief Awareness Week, which also coincides with International Men’s Day, we are sharing the story of WAY member Andrew, whose wife Zoë died suddenly earlier this year. He shares some of the strategies he has used to navigate life as a widowed dad to two young boys…

“At the end of May 2025, my wife Zoë died suddenly of Sudden Adult Death Syndrome (SADS). She was 38 and our boys were one and four.

Zoë was a partner at a law firm, and she gave 110% to everything she did. Everyone saw her as a great friend. Those she worked with saw her as a great solicitor. Overall, she was a wonderful person – loving, caring and funny. She was someone who believed in herself and made me believe in myself too. Her mantra was never to underestimate her. It was so true. She made me the best version of myself, making me feel loved, accepted and understood – and that’s the greatest gift anyone can give. It makes you feel like you belong, like you’re safe.

We met on a cycling tour through Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. At the time, I was living in Abu Dhabi, but after Zoë came to visit me once, I knew I had to move back to Manchester to see what would happen. Within a year we’d bought a house; I proposed two years after we met, and we married the following year. We had a great life. We were away nearly every weekend and, when we weren’t, we did yoga, Parkrun and enjoyed ourselves. It was great. We were a team – we did everything together.

When we decided to start a family, it wasn’t easy. We went through IVF, which failed, and were about to go for a second round when Covid hit. It was at that point that we got pregnant naturally with Joey. Tommy followed two years later. We had our perfect family. It was everything we wanted. When Tommy was one, we moved into our “forever home”. Zoë died just before Tommy turned two.

Navigating the first months

The days and weeks after Zoë died are mostly a blur. We had a family holiday planned to Scarborough, which the boys were looking forward to, so I went with my in-laws and Zoë’s sister. What kept me going was the boys – I didn’t have a choice. They still wanted to play, go out and have fun.

I found myself seeking out painful places, places with memories. I walked the routes we used to run along, visited the flat we first lived in, and went to Robin Hood’s Bay – Zoë’s happy place. It all hurt, but it made me feel her, remember her. Counselling also helped me. I found a great counsellor. This allowed me to get out things I couldn’t say to anyone else. It allowed me to feel validated and to understand some of what I was going through.

Managing day-to-day life as a solo parent to two young boys is… hard. I’ve had a lot of help from family but the reality is that it’s still all me. I honestly don’t know how I manage. I feel I don’t want to some days. I feel like I don’t get to grieve. The boys hit with tough questions when I am at my lowest.

I think I have distracted myself. I went back to work after two months and tried to keep life moving forward. I’ve carried on the projects Zoë started – finishing work in the garden, making changes to the house we’d planned together. I’ve also made practical changes to make life a little easier – solar panels, cycling to the tram, things that save time. Because time is the most important commodity for me now.

Routines and remembering

Keeping the same routines brings comfort because it is a known quantity. It makes me feel safe – I don’t need any more uncertainty when I’m struggling to keep my head above water. But it also allows me to feel Zoë and remember her. Small things bring back memories that I thought had gone.

The boys and I still talk about Zoë a lot. I try to keep her in our daily life naturally. There are photos of her all around the house. We have photo books we look through together. Occasionally we find a video on my phone and hear her voice – it has never not made me cry.

The boys are incredible – they seem to take it in their stride. We all sleep together in one bed at night. But I assume any upset is grief, even though it is probably just toddler rage.

Running continues to be my release. If I don’t run for a few days, I feel it inside me – I just can’t deal with things. I do Parkrun on a Saturday morning, which gives me space to “blast it out,” to get my anger and pain out. I run pushing the boys in the buggy, and they enjoy it. Running with other people give me a sense of belonging. It’s something Zoë and I always did together so it feels like keeping part of her with us. We even did a 10k race that Zoë had entered, wearing vests my running club gave the boys. It felt good. I got some demons out on the road. Running has become a kind of therapy.

I also try to talk. Sometimes that’s with friends on WhatsApp – sharing memories or just venting. I’ve given talks about my experience at work. This allowed me to open up, get rid of the elephant in the room but also share who Zoë was. This was good for me, and I hope for my colleagues too. The openness with other people helps. Everyone is there for you.

I go to counselling once a week. This is incredibly important. It helps me make sense of things, reflect on my relationship with Zoë, and appreciate what we had.

Joining WAY Widowed and Young has also helped. It gives me an insight into others going through this horror. Although you wish nobody else had to experience anything like I have, it is nice to see others who have had similar experiences and challenges. It is validating. Just seeing the messages on WAY’s online forums, knowing the support is there and being able to offer advice to others is comforting. Having that net helps.

It gives me hope to see that other WAY members have lives and still remember their loved ones. I hope I can do that too.

Looking ahead

My focus now is on giving the boys the best life possible. I struggle to believe it but I have to show them that life is for living. Zoë would want me to live, not just survive.

I want to show the boys who we are as a family: that we work hard, we achieve, we never underestimate ourselves, but I want them to have the freedom to be who they want to be. This is what Zoë wanted. What I wanted.

Everyone I see tells me I’m doing well. Although I’m not sure there’s an alternative. But I think I know, with Zoë’s strength, I can do this. My hope is in the love we had, which was strong and real.

If Zoë could see us, I think she’d be proud. Joey has started school and seems to be thriving. Tommy is still cheeky, cheerful and cute. She would be proud that we are still us – just with a massive part missing.”

Andrew’s advice for other widowed parents

Don’t be afraid of your emotions: What you’re going through is unbelievably hard. It’s unfair. You want it and you don’t deserve it. But you can do it. Don’t be afraid of your emotions – feel them, embrace them. It hurts because you loved deeply. That won’t go.
Talk to your children: Be open and honest. I don’t hide anything from my boys – I keep it age-appropriate, but if they ask, I tell them.
Go and see a counsellor: It is my backstop. You might not think you have the time/money but you can’t afford not to. This has been the single most important step.
Honour your partner: I have reacted badly to things. I have acted in ways I am not proud. But you’re doing the hardest thing you’ll ever do. And through it all, try to honour your partner. That is all you can do…

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