Some of you will already know that my lovely husband, Mike, died in April.
He went into Aintree Hospital for a bowel cancer operation in January and none of us, Mike, myself nor our two sons, thought that he would never come home.
To say we are heartbroken is an understatement. We didn’t even get to say goodbye. For the last four weeks of his life he wasn’t allowed visitors. And although FaceTime helped, it wasn’t quite the same as being with him and being able to comfort him. He fought so very, very hard. All sorts of complications occurred with frequent bouts of pneumonia but in the end, sadly, someone in the hospital gave him Covid 19 and he had no chance.
It’s still very hard to come to terms with my loss – a surreal funeral and a cruel end to his amazing life. We were married for 34 years, had been together for several years prior to marrying and we have two wonderful sons. He worked in television, which was where I met him, and had had a great career and life travelling all over the world and working with some amazing people, both in front of the camera and behind.
He was my best friend, my greatest fan, and my fiercest critic and he was quite simply my rock. His death has left a very big black hole in my life but he always wanted me to carry on and I shall … in his memory.