Celebrating WAY’s 25th Anniversary
Frosty Somerset morning
As I arrived at a frosty horse yard to muck out my elder daughter’s horse in the early morning of Saturday 26th February 2022, it was difficult to imagine that the same evening I would be dressed up in Cardiff, miles away from my children amongst a group of people only one of whom I had ever met face-to-face. As a widow, the concept of spending a night away from my daughters is always bitter sweet. The three of us have lived in each other’s pockets for over five and half years since their Daddy died. Although I know I need time away to rest and recharge, it is twinned with a worry about how much we miss each other when we are apart. It had taken an invitation for the WAY (Widowed and Young) 25th anniversary celebration to make me realise that as an ambassador I should book a room and organise transport to Cardiff.
Any post-pandemic social anxiety about the trip was replaced with a sinking heart when I arrived at the station to discover endless rail replacement buses. My relief was palpable at the ticket office when I was told my train was running on time, but my plans for getting some peace on the train were shattered by carriages full of football supporters drinking cans of Thatchers and Stella. Despite being a fiercely independent 44-year-old widow, I felt childlike as my father accompanied me onto a station platform and waved me off on my way. There was only standing room for the first hour of the journey, so I stood trying to read a book amongst the noisy drinkers and an adorable excited young child sat next to her grandmother heading home at the end of half term.
WAY Ambassadors being tourists - me with Emma C at Cardiff Castle
As I waited for my connection, I found a much-needed caffeine hit in the form of a Costa coffee that eased the tiredness visible in the bags around my eyes that reflected the exhaustion I felt in my body from the early morning. As I took comfort from the warm, sweet liquid I reflected on how I felt like a small, vulnerable country dormouse heading into a big scary city. Keeping me grounded was the anticipation that I had met one WAY member in person last summer at the 2021 CarFest event. Using the power of social media, we had managed to meet up amongst the overcrowded music festival. Bizarrely she is another Emma and instantly I had known she was my kind of person. She was tragically bereaved by covid at the beginning of the pandemic. As soon as I had seen her worried posts about attending the vast festival with her daughter, I had wanted to do all I could to help her feel that they were not alone in the rocky world that is widowhood. I explained that I had done similar summer trips with my girls and said that my girls and I would also be at the festival. What I did not make so obvious was that I instinctively felt that her friendship might bring reassurance to me along the lonely rollercoaster world of bereavement. Emma C, as I now know her, has written a beautiful blog (which you can read here) about the kindness of strangers in her account of the WAY celebrations that we attended at the weekend.
WAY events usually include cake!
Meeting at Cardiff station immediately put me at ease because, despite having only ever met Emma C that one fleeting time amongst the festival madness, she felt like an old friend. As we walked to our hotel, we shared anxious thoughts about attending the WAY celebrations and I confided in her my curiosity about the possibility that I may have sat opposite other WAY members on the last part of my train journey. As we checked in to our hotel together, we met a third WAY Ambassador who was similarly open, friendly and kind. After a quick change, we met in reception and, like true tourists, we ate Welsh cakes in the daffodil decorated grounds of the beautiful Cardiff castle. Walking in to the WAY drinks reception I discovered that the train strangers were indeed important WAY former officers. Despite not having met any other guests in person, I found comfort in the shared experiences that had brought us all together. As we sat at our tables, the most inspirational of the speeches was from WAY’s founder Caroline Sarll. She explained how her passion to change the narrative around death had been fuelled by her experiences of being a bereaved child herself, watching her mother single-handedly bringing up her and her sister, and a quarter of a century later witnessing the cruel repetition of history when her brother-in-law died leaving her sister widowed at 12 weeks pregnant. I cried as Caroline spoke of what it was like to live without her “beloved Daddy”, the pain of the daily reminders of what our deceased person has lost and, as the person who set up WAY’s military sub-group, my mind wandered to the worrying conflict in Ukraine and its impact on military and civilian families around the world. It is incredible to think that Caroline and her group of determined pioneers created a national charity that over the years has offered a lifeline to more than 14,000 young widowed people, inevitably that is a figure that will grow as the years pass.
It was a privilege to get to know some of the people who have been pivotal in moulding the charity since its start in 1997 but the late night brought with it a reminder of my solo parent exhaustion. Sometime after 1am, Emma C and I walked back through the centre of Cardiff, past drunk sporting supporters falling out of pubs and nightclubs. My aching feet reminded me how out of practice I am at getting dressed up. As I gratefully fell into the big hotel double bed, I was conscious of the vast emptiness in the covers beside me and my frozen feet that I used to warm up on my late husband’s legs. I pottered out of bed to boil the little hotel kettle and fill my small travel hot water bottle. I rarely sleep without it as it warms up the chilly reminder of the loneliness that widowhood brought with it. Nevertheless, we had made it through the day and, as my feet warmed, sleep overtook me.
I was the last of the three of us ambassadors at our hotel to wake for breakfast the next day before heading to the station. I was unsurprised to discover that the only train that had been cancelled was the one taking me home to my girls and our home. Acknowledging that it was a temporary inconvenience, it felt so natural to be joined by the lady who had sat opposite me on the train the day before, who turned out to be an inspirational past-chair of WAY. When the train finally got moving the countryside flew past us and the ease of the banter reminded me of how a common experience can bring total strangers into a place of intimate conversation as we shared the stories of our past tragedies and the struggles we had faced since our husbands had died.
Less than 36 hours after mucking out the horse the day before, it felt comfortable to be back in the yard in the reassuringly familiar countryside. As my daughter and I put down fresh shavings in the stable, made up the night’s feed and waded through the mud to get the horse from the field, my trip to Cardiff felt like a surreal dream. It had been great to get away and swap stories with people who “got it” but it was bliss to be home with my girls and our animals. At bedtime, I read Emma C’s blog and I felt honoured to be named as an important angel in her widow journey. Her words highlight the deep connections that strangers can make and how new friends can stand out from the crown and help you believe that the impossible is possible with like-minded people by your side. I am passionate that everyone who has lost a partner young discovers the supportive WAY community, the only national peer-to-peer support group for those who are widowed young. As I curled into the clean sheets in my own soft and comfy bed, it dawned on me that it had been an amazing experience and we all need human connection with people who understand the journey we are on; but, I am happiest in nature in my wellies, away from drunken crowds!
Did you know the importance of the swan logo?
Swans are calm on the surface despite paddling furiously below to stay afloat and, poignantly, they mate for life.