How do you handle the death of a spouse?
When your spouse dies, your whole world changes. You feel grief and sorry, maybe even fear. How do you go on? One woman found her way through song. Could singing their way out of sorrow be the answer for many women who lose their spouse?
After being inspired by the Military Wives Choir, widow Jane Dolby, of Leigh-on-Sea in Essex, England, founded the Fisherman’s Wives Choir, a group made up of widows across the United Kingdom who have found strength in each other. Her moving story for dailymail.co.uk tells how singing helped her to grieve her husband.
By Jane Dolby
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The events of Monday, November 10, 2008, feel as if they were a hundred years ago, yet at the same time, as if they were yesterday.
That morning, Colin took our daughter Amelia to school and our son Liam to pre-school, before heading off to work for a day’s fishing.
That day, he was ‘weeding’ — raking the seabed for white weed, which looks like pale sea ferns. He would bag it and sell it and it would be dyed and used in aquariums. A lot of fishermen turn to weeding in the winter when the fish have migrated elsewhere.
‘It won’t be a long day,’ he said as he checked the weather his usual way; looking at the trees to see which way the wind was blowing before checking the shipping forecast. Winter was setting in. There was a real nip in the air.
As he left, I kissed him goodbye. I tidied up the breakfast things and did a bit of housework. At midday, a noise outside caught my attention. I looked out of the window: rain was lashing against the pane and the sky was dark.
The weather had gone from fairly clear to appalling. You would call it a squall — heavy rain and wind, really fierce, wind that can knock you over. A few minutes later a crash came as some tiles blew off the roof. I called Colin on his mobile. His words came in a rush: ‘The weather’s terrible! I can’t talk to you now, darlin’, I can’t talk, I’m trying to lash down everything on the boat. It’s awful out here. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, I’ll be home.’
I wasn’t worried when it got to 3pm and there was no sign of him. He had always warned me: ‘Never set your watch by a fisherman.’
