When my husband, Rob, age 45, flew to Perth in June 2018 for a week, I didn’t think twice about it. Being away for short periods of time was a rather common business trip for him.
That morning, I walked him to the station to catch the train to the airport, hand-in-hand with our two sons, Flyn and Jed, who were 10 and 8 years old and riding their bicycle and scooter alongside us. Before Rob departed, I took a couple of memorable photos with him and the boys, and when the train arrived, we shared a tender goodbye, exchanging hugs and kisses. Later that evening, when he rang, he spent some time chatting to the boys and the two of us had a lovely conversation about love and relationships. Sadly, this would be our final conversation.
When the next morning I didn’t hear from Rob as expected, and he wasn’t responding to my calls, I began to worry. I made a call to the hotel where he stayed, asking them to check up on him. I kept ringing throughout the day, hoping to get answers.
In the late afternoon I received a call from a sergeant at the Perth coroner’s office, who, after ensuring I had somebody with me, said: “I’m sorry to inform you that your husband was found deceased in a hotel room in Perth this morning.” The moment was incredibly surreal. It was like my whole world spun into slow motion, evoking the sensation of our favourite song playing on a record player, and suddenly the needle screeched and the music stopped, plunging everything into an eerie silence. After a few moments of collecting myself, I told our two boys. I couldn’t sugar-coat a message like this.
A complete shock
The cause of death was confirmed as a brain aneurysm, which came as a total shock since my husband was in perfect health and had shown no signs of any issues whatsoever.
Ironically, a couple of years prior Rob arrived home late after work, having to detour because of a fatal car crash. That night we had a conversation around what we would like each other to do if one of us passed away. We both agreed that we would want the other to create the happiest life possible for our boys, but we never believed this would happen to us. At the time I was working as a coach. But, as soon as Rob died, I had nothing left for my clients, so I closed down my business and my sole focus became our now family of three.
A month later I started seeing a positive psychologist every 2-3 weeks over four months. I chose this path to healing because, unlike traditional psychology that focuses on causes and symptoms, positive psychology emphasises behaviours and experiences that are forward-looking and filled with positivity. It was what Rob and I had promised each other, and even though I had no idea how I would achieve that, happiness became my North Star. I had a turning point in October, when I told the psychologist how heavy the expectations all around me weighed on me, all while I was trying to create the happiest life possible for the boys and myself.
In response, she just looked at me and asked: “So what does grief mean to you, Marie?” To my surprise the first word that came up was ‘empowerment’. In discovering empowerment in grief, I realised I was not the typical widow and that my approach to grief was so different.
Consequently, the meetings became my one outlet where I didn’t have to think about the impact my raw feelings would have on any other person. The psychologist held space for me to release, talk, cry and laugh freely. Gradually she helped me find myself again and begin to heal in the midst of my emotional turmoil.
My children definitely benefitted from it too as I came back home a happier and more relaxed mum after each visit and, in turn, quickly improved the quality of our day-to-day life. Inspired, I decided to share our story and give others hope, which resulted in my first book, Loving Life After Loss, which was published in November 2018.
Infused with renewed hope, that same month I decided to take the boys and go away on a nine-week holiday. I wanted to give us time and space to grieve, but also to create new, happy memories. We visited the Maldives, Canary Islands, Austria, France, Germany and Sentosa Island.
During this trip, I was fully present for anything and everything that came up for my boys and we had very open conversations about our emotions, memories, fears and hopes. It was the most bonding and sacred experience for us. A cut that deep rocks you to the core, yet it also connects you deeper than you can ever imagine. Back home, my children returned to school as I wanted to create some sense of normal as quickly as possible. Yet, when they needed a day off or wanted to come home, that was always open to them.
I was in close contact with the school, the principal and their teachers at all times. They were very supported through it all. This proved fruitful when nine months later my eldest son, Flyn, said: “Our lives have kind of gotten better since Dad passed away, not because of him passing but because of what you are doing with our lives.” This was my utmost proof that what I was doing was right for us, and it filled my heart with so much joy. Now it’s become our only way of life.
Supporting others
Flyn and Jed, now age 16 and 14, have grown into very well-rounded, emotionally mature and intelligent teenagers. They both have a depth about them in the way they look at life, which reminds me of Rob. As their Mum it makes my heart sing, and I believe Rob would equally be so proud of them. We were already a close-knit family, but losing Rob brought us even closer together and we share a very strong connection. The only day I still find challenging is Father’s Day. This year it’ll be the day after my birthday. Yet I tend to focus on celebrating life more than anything. I believe that people who experience loss don’t need help with grief, as sadness happens on its own. People need help with finding purpose again, joy, happiness and love. It’s not easy to allow that back in.
Also, I’ve learnt that we need to find more meaningful things to say than ‘my condolences’. This can leave one so empty and more excluded from the world than ever. Better to ask people if they want to talk about it. Offer practical and simple support like: “Is it okay if I come this week and mow your lawn?” or “I can cook for you, which day would you prefer?” Over the years I’ve had tremendous support from friends, family and school mums, and often it’s such little things that have proved to be most beneficial. The love and support I received from my friends in the days of Rob’s passing blew me away. Like my friend Des, who stayed with me the night before the funeral and sat behind me on the day; it gave me such strength. Then my friend Jo, who came to just sit with me when I came back from Perth to identify Rob’s body so I wouldn’t come home to an empty house.
When the future that we had envisioned as a family was derailed, I chose to concentrate on cultivating the person I aspired to become amidst the adversity. This mindset involves recognising the choices we have and making the most of them. I had made a promise to him that I would adopt this approach, and I knew it was what he would have wanted for me if our roles were reversed. I suggest to others, at times when you feel you can’t deal with it all, do the role reversal.
Professionally and personally, I found purpose and meaning in creating healing journeys, programs and retreats for people to heal. I believe that people who experience loss don’t need help with grief, as sadness happens on its own. People need help with finding purpose again, joy, happiness and love. It’s not easy to allow that back in, and that’s what I’ve become an expert in. Today, I continue that work through keynote speeches and storytelling called ‘The Power of Grief’. With every person I’ve helped I’ve healed a little further myself. This is what life, I’ve realised, is all about: We hurt. We heal. We grow. We teach.
I had many times where I practised it myself: “If I were Rob, what would I want Marie to do with this?” It truly helps. Love is simple. Love just wants you to be happy.
Coping with grief and loss
The experience of grief is a fundamental human reaction that occurs when we face or anticipate the loss of a loved one. A 2020-21 report by the National Centre for Childhood Grief found 1 in 20 Australian children will experience the death of a parent before the age of 18. In New Zealand, the equivalent is about 3 percent for a young person.
Megan Carter, a clinical psychologist and neuroscientist, says the grieving process is uniquely personal and can vary greatly from one individual to another, influenced by cultural and spiritual backgrounds. Moreover, the duration of grief can differ as it can permeate every aspect of a person’s life, affecting their daily functioning and overall wellbeing in diverse ways. “It’s normal after sudden loss to experience an array of strong or subtle emotions, physiological responses and behaviours,” says Carter. “This complex mix can include feelings of sadness, shame, anger, anxiety, fear, pain, guilt and loneliness, in addition to the joy of remembering, love and, importantly, gratitude which can pave the way to build resilience and even post-traumatic growth.
“Vitally, loss of a close attachment bond can alter your sense of safety and may activate your threat system. Hence, connecting with yourself compassionately, with others through community, and nature helps to soothe the threat system, as social inclusion and feeling connected to something can release oxytocin, the peptide hormone linked to connection, calm and love.”
How to Cultivate Connection
To achieve this, she suggests on an individual level:
• Acknowledge your unique way of grieving, and know that you’re not alone in grief; it’s an experience shared with common humanity.
• Practise kindness and gratitude to build an internal sense of safety and reduce anxiety and distress.
• Self-soothing strategies that generate oxytocin include touch, stroking and cuddles.
• Connection with nature can promote awe, which can help you find meaning and improve mental health.
• Spending time listening to music, playing instruments, singing, moving or dancing has been found to release oxytocin and promote wellbeing.
As a parent:
• Children can develop resilience when they are given the chance to form strong bonds, engage in social activities, express themselves openly, share fond memories of their loved one, and also participate in shared experiences that can foster a sense of connection.
• Consider offers of support and accept those when wanted, while maintaining your boundaries and respecting your right to quiet time to grieve and heal alone and/or with
your children.
• Seeking opportunities to enjoy life while grieving can support children to create healthy and balanced memories, adaptive coping, and encourages healthy development.
Seek support at grief.org.au
For young people: childhoodgrief.org.au
