How soon is TOO soon for a widow
to fall in love?
 |
| Tragic: Jayne with Neil on their wedding day in 2004, six years before his death |
Just six
months after the death of her beloved husband,
Jayne was already seeing a new
man...
Jayne and Neil were happily married with two children
But in 2010, Neil, aged 30,
died from Sudden Adult Death
Syndrome
Six months later Jayne met Adam who helped her
with her
grief. They have since had a child together
and are engaged to be
married
By JAYNE HUSTWIT
Were I to tell you that I started my current relationship
just six months after my husband died, would you judge me?
You wouldn't be alone. The matter of how soon is too soon to
move on after being widowed is a highly controversial one.
But I don't feel guilty because I know my late husband would
be glad for me.
In fact, when I met my current partner, Adam, the last thing
in the world I wanted or expected was a new relationship.
But we are proof that you simply cannot plan life - or
choose who you fall in love with, or when.
When happiness came my way, I chose to grasp it with both
hands. I have no regrets in doing so, even though I know people may criticise
me for it.
Of course, I could never have imagined my life would pan out
like this.
I was 18 and at sixth-form college when I met Neil, the man
who would become my husband. He was also 18, and I'd always thought we would
grow old and grey together.
I'd had boyfriends before, but Neil was different: he was
that rare mix of gentle, funny, clever and kind.
Our relationship flourished, despite the fact that over the
next three years we attended universities miles apart. Neil studied criminology
in Lincoln and I did nursing in Harrogate.
We married in July 2004, after graduating, and moved into a
new two-bedroom terrace house near
Colne, Lancashire.
Our two children soon followed: Alexander, now seven, then
Amy, five.
Neil was now a police officer, and I worked part-time as
a nurse, so I had time at home with the
children.
Neil was caring, protective and, best of all, a real family
man. If life wasn't perfect, it was as happy as I could possibly have imagined
it.
That's until one Friday night in April 2010, when Neil went
to a friend's stag party in Newcastle.
I was going out too that night and my parents were
babysitting, so I dropped the children off with them and drove home to get
ready.
I'd only just arrived home when my father turned up and said
Amy wouldn't settle. 'Will you come back with me and give her a cuddle?' he
asked.
'My fit, healthy, gorgeous husband, who was only 30, had
walked into a pub and collapsed before he had even had a drink.'
I thought it was strange that Dad hadn't just phoned me.
It was only later that I realized he had something terrible
to tell me, and wanted me to be safe with him and Mum and the children when he
did so.
As we pulled into my parents' drive, Dad turned to me and
said: 'It's Neil.' I saw two police officers through the window in my parents'
front room and my stomach lurched.
Dad and I rushed into the house and I sat, flanked by my
parents, as the police confirmed Neil was dead.
My fit, healthy, gorgeous husband, who was only 30, had
walked into a pub and collapsed before he had even had a drink.
His friends - many of them fellow police officers - had
desperately tried to revive him and called an ambulance, but he had died within
minutes of collapsing.
Neil's heart had simply and inexplicably stopped beating.
A post-mortem examination later classed the cause of death
as Sudden Adult Death Syndrome - a fatal disturbance in the heart's rhythm,
which can strike at any age, and which can affect even fit and healthy people.
My first fear was that Neil might have suffered. Then I just
felt numb. We all sat there crying, in disbelief and shock.
It took two days to summon the courage to tell the children
Daddy wasn't coming home. They had thought he was away for the weekend, so that
bought me the extra time.
I sat them down in the living room, but as I tried to utter
the words, I broke down. My mum had to take over.
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| Jayne and Neil with their son Alexander and daughter Amy a year before Neil passed away |
Amy was too young to understand. Alexander - who idolised
his dad - fell silent. I don't think he properly comprehended either - how
could he? - because he kept asking when Dad was coming back.
For three weeks, we stayed with my parents. Consumed by
grief, I found my only solace in sleeping pills prescribed by the doctor. Even
the funeral two weeks later was a blur.
When I finally mustered the courage to take the children
back to our home, it felt cold and empty without Neil.
His police uniform was still hanging in the wardrobe and his
favourite football DVDs were next to the television.
At every turn, I was reminded of how happy we had been, and
of how much we'd been looking forward to our future together.
A fortnight later, Neil's sergeant came to tell me Neil had
passed his sergeant's exams with flying colours. It broke my heart to think my
hard-working husband would never know of his success.
Thankfully, my parents came over every day. They helped me
care for the children and establish new routines, and that forced me to carry
on when I thought I couldn't.
Alexander was starting school that September in 2010 - a
school Neil and I had carefully chosen together.
This was the first milestone we would have to reach without
my husband and even buying our son's uniform, knowing Neil would never see it,
was incredibly upsetting.
'Adam and I had met a few times before, so I arranged for
him to come round and advise on the work that needed doing.'
The most difficult times, though, were at bedtime because
Alexander would get upset that Daddy wasn't there to tuck him in. It was truly
heartbreaking.
Our house had been on the market since before Neil's death.
In late September, an offer was made on it, which I felt I should accept
because a fresh start would help.
I managed to find a house down the road - two minutes from
my parents - where I thought we could, eventually, be happy.
It needed lots of work doing to it, but I thought this might
provide a distraction from my grief and give me something to focus on other
than my loss.
My brother Christopher said his friend Adam, a 30-year-old
builder, might be able to help me lick the new house into shape.
Adam and I had met a few times before, so I arranged for him
to come round and advise on the work that needed doing.
.jpg) |
| New love: Jayne and her fiance Adam |
Adam knew of my loss and was considerate and professional,
and his advice was very helpful.
I moved in towards the end of September. A month later, I
held a Halloween party for the sake of the children, and I invited Adam along
with our friends.
He was easy to talk to, and we seemed to have lots in common
as we chatted in the kitchen that late afternoon.
Not only had his mother worked with Neil's mum, but he'd
known my brother for years through mutual friends. Again, I wouldn't say there
was any chemistry as such - we just got on well.
Two weeks later, Adam phoned and invited me out for dinner.
I was surprised and hesitant.
Was it too soon after losing Neil to go on a date? It was a
dilemma, but in the end I decided to say yes, if only for a couple of hours
away from being sad, in the company of someone who made me laugh.
It did feel strange getting dressed up for a date after so
many years. I pulled on a checked skirt with a purple top and felt very
nervous.
We went to an Italian restaurant and I was surprised that my
awkwardness evaporated. And as we chatted, I noticed that I was warming to him;
I found him attractive.
There was no guilt, nor did I feel like I was betraying
Neil. Adam is completely different and being with him felt completely
different.
We really hit it off that evening, and I felt I could trust
Adam despite being vulnerable. We talked about friends we had in common and I
spoke openly about my grief.
When Adam dropped me home, he leant in to give me a gentle
kiss goodbye and it felt completely natural.
It was only when I thought about it the following morning
that I found I was torn.
Neil had only been gone seven months. I couldn't imagine how
a man would fit into my life, which was all about my children, and of course I
worried about getting hurt.
But I saw Adam several times over the next few weeks while
he worked on the house. I could grieve and cry in front of him. He didn't mind.
I handled my twinges of guilt that it was too soon by
reminding myself that Neil would not have wanted me to be alone. Somehow, I
felt his presence, and sensed he was happy I had a supportive man like Adam in
my life.
I never stopped thinking about Neil, but I also felt someone
like Adam might never come along again. I didn't want to lose him.
We worried what other people would think, so we kept our
relationship secret for the first month.
Adam visited me in the evenings after the children had gone
to bed. It seemed too soon to introduce a new man into their lives.
I also didn't know how I would break the news to Neil's
parents, who had been so supportive. Nobody could ever take Neil's place, but
would they see it that way?
Adam started to stay for the odd night. Amazingly, being
intimate didn't feel wrong. I realized it was time for a new life.
So I decided to introduce Adam to the children.
'When Adam kissed me for the first time it felt so natural -
but in the morning I felt a pang of guilt'
He started coming over for tea and he was great with them,
taking them to the park and the swimming pool and helping Alexander with his
homework. They grew to think the world of him.
One evening, I asked them how they would feel about Adam
moving in. I was relieved when they started jumping excitedly on the bed.
Having Adam round was like an adventure to them.
Mum said she had guessed we were together but I was still
afraid of telling Neil's parents. Thankfully, they took it well and assured me
I was still young and deserved to be happy.
Neil's mum has since confessed they worried they might lose
touch with their grandchildren, but the children see them every week, and there
is no awkwardness when Adam drops them off.
Adam moved in with us in March 2011. I still occasionally
worried when I had to explain to Neil's old friends that I'd met someone else.
 |
| Happy family: Jayne with her partner Adam, son Alexander, and daughters Amy and Maisy |
And there have been some awkward moments when people assume
Alexander and Amy are Adam's children - and Alexander turns round and says: 'My
daddy's in heaven.' But if people ever thought badly of us, they didn't say so.
Six months after Adam moved in, we started trying for a
baby.
I know some people will say that was too soon as well - and
again, I didn't find it easy telling Neil's parents or friends - but it felt
right to us, and we thought a new baby would be a wonderful way to cement our
relationship.
We were prepared for the fact that it might take a year or
two for me to get pregnant, so we were surprised and delighted when I conceived
as soon as we started trying.
Our daughter Maisy was born in July last year. She's created
a special bond between all of us. Adam and I are getting married next May.
I still grieve for Neil, and I always will - particularly on
the children's birthdays.
We have his framed photograph in our sitting room, and the
children have their own albums of pictures of their father.
Adam will never replace him, and he wouldn't want to, but he
is a wonderful father figure to them.
Some people might find it hard to understand how I could
move on so quickly. But Neil's death proves that life is too short and I'm not
ashamed of what has happened.
At 33, I'm just thankful to have met two such wonderful men
in one lifetime. I count my blessings every day.
Interview: Alison Smith-Squire
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