A way of coping when love is cut short

Unless it has happened to you, it is easy to forget that death can suddenly intrude on a young relationship, leaving the grieving survivor to face an uncertain future alone. But a new group is there to offer support

THE first people that spring to mind when you hear mention of a widows' group would probably not include a mother of two very young children, an IT professional or a teacher - all under 40 years of age.

We always imagine widows or widowers to be older people who have lived full lives.

However, the 2006 census tells us that there are almost 4,000 widowed people in Ireland aged under 40, and 1,000 aged under 30. Of these, 64 were widowed before they reached the age of 20.

And while older widows and widowers have friends who are going through the same experience, younger spouses feel particularly alone in their grief as they watch friends starting out in marriage and rearing young families with partners.

It was this feeling of isolation that led some Irish men and women to the Way (Widowed and Young) Foundation in Britain and to take the first steps to starting a Way Ireland group.

Mary Murphy (38) from Cork got involved in June, not long after her husband, Barry, also 38, died. "I was so desperate to hear of other people in my situation," she recalls. "I remember trawling the net and I couldn't find anything. Friends are absolutely brilliant and I really am blessed with great friends but they can't understand the sheer hell you are going through, nor would you ever want them to. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't going mad."

Barry's death was a bolt from the blue. "We were in bed the night before, watching The Apprentice, without a care in the world," she says. She was getting their two girls, Áine (eight) and Erin (three) ready for playgroup and school the next morning when he came downstairs to say he wasn't feeling well. When she brought him up a cup of tea, he collapsed in the bed, screaming for an ambulance. He was diagnosed with a perforated bowel and had to undergo major surgery.

"I had no idea that death was something that might happen," she says. "Even when I waited in intensive care I felt like a fraud, thinking that I shouldn't be there."

But the news that he needed more blood caused her alarm bells to ring and it all became a blur when she was told he had died. "All I can remember is that I just ran and ran and ran through the corridors of the hospital. I couldn't stop myself. It was like I was trying to get away from it."

To this day, she cannot remember how she told her daughters that their father had died. "The only thing I remember saying is that Daddy grew special wings to fly up to heaven. Their loss pierces me like a knife because he was so good to them. The girls were his life."

The past six months have been "up and down", she says. "The days are easier because I'm distracted with the girls, the school drop-offs and pick-ups, the after-school activities. But it's in the evening that it is really hard. It's when the girls are tucked up in bed and I'm going around the house locking up like it's Fort Knox. I know that once I lock the front door I won't see anyone until morning. It's so lonely and so empty."

Barnardo's bereavement counselling service has greatly helped her daughters, but she still sees three-year-old Erin picking up the phone, saying she is phoning daddy. "She'll look up at the stars at night and look for the brightest star. That's daddy."

And when they are out together, she worries that the girls are looking at other families together and remembering their loss.

In June, as she was trawling for help on the internet, she made contact with Bairbre Quinn-Oudji, an Irish woman who was one of the first members of Way Ireland.

"It has been a life-saver for me, to meet people in exactly my situation," says Mary. "We can say anything to each other and know we won't be judged. It's a comfort to know that you are not alone and you can sit down and write an e-mail and get a response. Or you can pick up the phone or text another member."

Bairbre, who was widowed two years ago, wishes that the group had been there when her husband Islem died. She was just 29 when he died of heart failure, at the age of 33. He left two sons, aged three, and four months, behind. "It would have helped me an awful lot if I had met someone who had been widowed and who could say 'you will be okay and you will get there'. It's important to know that the darkness lifts at some stage."

SHE HAD BEENinvolved in the British group for a few months when she received an e-mail from an Irish man, suggesting that the Irish members meet up. "Four of us met for dinner and before we knew it, we'd been talking for three hours. Everyone had so much to share," she recalls.

They now have 14 men and women in their Way Ireland online chat group and they hope to plan some activities as more members join. There is no strict age limit but current members are in their 20s, 30s and 40s. People who have lost partners outside marriage are also welcome.

"I feel so sad every time someone joins," says Bairbre, "but I think anyone who has lost their partner in life would benefit from meeting others in the same situation."

Mary Murphy and her daughters are now approaching their first Christmas without Barry and it's something that she finds difficult to think about.

"I was in a shop yesterday and they were playing Fairytale of New York. I used to love to hear that coming on before Christmas, but I stood in the shop and cried."

But it will get better, according to Bairbre. "Two years ago, I never thought I could get up in the morning and feel okay. I never thought I could think of Islem without feeling sadness and despair taking over. Sometimes, however, I can look at pictures and think of the good times and actually smile. Not all the time, but it does happen."

• The group can be contacted at WAYireland@gmail.com