Adrenaline kept my body moving even as the heat and stress made me sweat, still wearing my work badge. As I entered the house, I was met by the smell of Lynx and the thought that just a few hours earlier, Peter had left like any normal day. In his room, Fluffy the cat was curled up on his freshly made bed he never made his bed. As I gathered everything the kids might need teddies, clothes, the small things that mattered I’d sit down and cry, then carry on.
The first days after Peter’s death were surreal. My mind went on autopilot, focused entirely on protecting the kids. Beyond the initial shock and their cries for Peter, I was in survival mode. I made a short-term plan to let them move through their emotions at their own pace. I got food, gave them space, hugged them tight, and returned to their home to collect what they’d need for the week. I already had a key and knew the house inside out and, looking back, it feels as though these last few years have been quietly preparing me for this moment.
In the days that followed, we simply went with the flow parks, dog walks, McDonald’s breakfasts. I reassured the kids that we would get through this, even as I tried to mentally map out our next steps.
During that time, I reconnected with Peter’s sister, someone I hadn’t seen for years. We had become strangers, but instantly became family again. I also had to think about how to tell my niece Lou. She wasn’t Peter’s daughter, but she had reconnected with him over the last few years and shared many memories with him and Jane. I knew I needed to support her, too.
Over the past six months, I had been staying with my grandparents a couple of days a week, helping and keeping my grandma company. Now I found myself asking, How am I going to do this? They needed me but I also knew, without question, that my priority had to be the kids. With Jane’s illness and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, I didn’t know what the future would hold for them, but I promised myself I’d be there for all of them.
The weight of responsibility was immense, but it came from love. Grief, exhaustion, and uncertainty surrounded us, but day by day, moment by moment, I knew we would keep going. For the kids, for the family, and for the connections that mattered most I would fight through fire.