Cruelly Taken... My Dad And My Husband

Both Antonia Furniss, 44, and her husband had suffered from tragedy. But more devastation was to come...

- Louise Baty

As my phone rang, and my husband, Andy’s, face filled the screen, I wished I could reach out and hug him but we were hundreds of miles apart. It was 2014 and I was working away from home for a few weeks. Video calls were the only way to keep in touch. ‘I miss you,’ I told Andy, as we said goodbye.

We spoke several times a day and, if we were too busy to talk, we’d record video diaries on our phones and send them to each other. We had met 14 years before at a work party, and chatting we’d discovered we both loved the outdoors and were adventurous. Then, after going on a few dates, we discovered we shared a tragic bond, too.‘I lost my dad when I was 12,’ I confided, explaining how my father, Sean, had died on 5 July 1985, aged just 36, after suffering a heart attack. I told Andy how I’d walked in from school that day and had found Mum crying in the kitchen. The impact had been profound. Dad had always been so full of life and adjusting to a world without him had been so difficult. ‘I understand,’ Andy said. ‘I lost my dad when I was 22.’

His father, Nigel, had passed away on 18 April 1993, aged 52, and he too had suffered a heart attack. The tragedies pulled us even closer together and, after eight months, we’d moved in together. In 2007 we’d married, settling in Cobham, Surrey.

Although we worked long hours – me as a manager for a professional services firm and Andy as a management consultant – with no children, we did everything together. So when, in 2011, Andy announced he was going on a health kick, I joined in. We took up running and both started eating more healthily. By early summer 2014, our hard work was paying off.