I Had To Learn How To Become A Widow

Cathy Jones, 54, was devastated when her husband died, but there was something she hadn’t expected…

- Sarah Holmes & Kim Willis

Sitting on a sun-drenched balcony, a cool glass of wine in hand, this should have been the perfect way to see in my 54th birthday – if only my husband Hywel were here to share it with me.

Nobody wants to become a widow, but after 15 years of marriage, here I am.

It’s not like divorce. When the love of your life dies, they take a part of you with them – and the future you’d been so sure of. The long evening walks, the plotting of holidays, growing old together. It stings to think what will never happen.

I was 32 and Hywel was 37 when we met at a nightclub in Cardiff. Like me, he had children from a previous marriage, but most importantly, he was also an avid traveller.

We married in the Seychelles in 1997 and, a couple of years later, our son Eliott was born.

In the summer of 2006, Hywel started to complain of a pain in his neck. When he went to the doctor, they told him it was swollen glands.

But he got more and more exhausted. In March 2007, a biopsy revealed he had multiple secondary tumours in his neck. ‘We can beat this,’ I said, grasping his hands.