I was lonely at Christmas after losing my soulmate – then my phone rang

On Christmas Day two years ago, I was feeling so tearful that I put on my coat, knowing I had to get out of the apartment.

I can’t even remember where I walked to, but I must have been wandering around Norwich for a couple of hours – only everything was closed for the bank holiday.

At one point, I sat down on a bench in the local gardens and just let my emotions overcome me.

Extremely lonely. That’s how I’ve felt every December 25 since my childhood sweetheart and wife of 61 incredible years, Jillian, passed away.

I used to love Christmas Day, but it’s not a day I look forward to anymore. I’d describe it as a sad time now.

I first met Jillian – or Jilly, to me – when we were at school together. This was only brief because, a little while later, she moved to Paris because her dad, who was a Major in the Army, was posted there.

She spent the rest of her school years at a very posh boarding school, but she asked my grandmama, who I was living with at the time, if I could write to her.

That’s where our story really started. 

She was lovely. Although her dad initially wasn’t right sure whether we should get married, as I came from a working-class family and there was a big divide between the rich and the poor at that time, I won him over.

Jilly and I tied the knot in 1960 – I was 20, and she was 21. It was the best day.

We shared things, you see. There was no ‘this is mine’ and ‘that’s yours’, there was only ‘us’ and ‘ours’.

But our life together didn’t come without its challenges. Not long after we were pronounced husband and wife, I was called up for National Service.

That was a scary time for me. They put me in the Medical Corps, and I had to do 14 weeks’ training before I could be posted.

I remember them calling out the names one by one. ‘You’re going to Cyprus; you’re going to another country’ and so on. There were six of us left, standing and waiting to be told where we were going. Finally, he said, ‘You will be posted to Colchester Military Hospital’. I breathed the biggest sigh of relief.

The career I held following this, in the gas and oil industry, meant that I was away a lot. I saw some amazing places, but for a long time, I was working in America six months out of the year, which meant Jilly played a huge role in maintaining our home life and bringing up our children.

Despite the distance, we loved each other to bits. My grandpapa bought us a terrace house in Norwich, and her parents paid for all our furniture. It was a brilliant home – it was all we needed.

Christmas Day back then was usually spent abroad. We would either take the family to a nice hotel in Malta for the week or, as I had quite a few friends in America, we would do a house exchange where they would come and stay at ours, and we would have Christmas and New Year at theirs – which was sometimes a big American mansion!

Jilly was a terrific cook, so we would always have a delicious Christmas dinner before opening presents. I’ll always remember this one ring she got me – I treasure it still, to this day.

One afternoon in 2012, Jilly was out in the garden when she took a tumble. I thought she’d fainted, but we soon found out it was the first sign of a brain haemorrhage. It was such a shock, there were no symptoms or signs before that moment.

She needed more care from that point onwards, but I refused to move her into a nursing home. Instead, I promised her that I would look after her in our own home where I knew she would feel most comfortable. We moved into a flat not long after that, so she didn’t need to navigate tricky stairs.

I cared for her for the next 10 years of her life.

Then, when it was eventually her time to go in January 2022, I’m not afraid to say that I fell to pieces.

I let the cupboards become empty, I stopped shaving, I didn’t change the bedding, I wouldn’t go out. It was a horrible time. I nearly thought about crossing that line, but then, I was quickly put in contact with Age UK Norwich.

I knew about the incredible work Age UKs do because I relied heavily on Age UK Norfolk, our nearest one at the time, when I was looking after Jilly. I used to take her to a Day Centre they ran. It was brilliant. It gave Jilly a change of scenery, and me a break from caring duties – even if just for a couple of hours.

Then, when we moved into our flat, they connected us to Age UK Norwich instead.

I still remember that first phone call after losing Jilly, from a lovely lady who worked there. She had a difficult job trying to console me, as I couldn’t stop the tears.

But they didn’t give up on me. They accepted me.

They came round to see me and encouraged me to go with them to one of my local garden centres. I was sat out on my balcony, filled with nerves and apprehension, when the bus going to the garden centre pulled up.

But I took the plunge – and now, I know that’s what you must do to get through it. Yes, I admit, it was a tearful outing, but when I got home, I had something to think about. It felt good.

Since then, I’ve become involved in several clubs Age UK Norwich runs, including Riverside Multi-Games where we do everything from table tennis and kurling, to boccia and archery, cooking courses and even Walking Football.

I’m not as mobile as I once was, so I might stand at the sidelines sometimes, but just being there – amongst it all – it works wonders.

Every year, Age UK Norwich hosts a Christmas Dinner a few weeks before the day itself. I’m so grateful for it. It has become my Christmas Day because when the real thing rolls around, I don’t see anyone, after the loss of my sons. But I have Age UK Norwich’s event, and it’s always the highlight of my month.

Last year, I wore the new festive necktie I was excited to don, and it went down a treat.

The event was held at The Maids Head Hotel on December 16 and, gosh, it was lovely. All the staff were there. We had had our meal – and there was even a magician to entertain us between courses – then did a quiz.

Everyone on the table was sharing stories of their involvement with Age UK Norwich, and how they’d come to rely on it. We also each received a gift from Dunelm through their Delivering Joy Christmas Campaign.

The day only lasted from 12 until 3pm, but I will treasure those moments forever and ever.

I’m completely serious when I say I wouldn’t be here today without Age UK Norwich. I’ve lost my entire family, and words are inadequate to express my sorrows. Loneliness is a terrible, terrible thing, but there is always hope and support out there if you just reach for it.

At the end of the day, you’ll be jolly glad you did, and now, I know my Jilly is looking down at me and saying: ‘Well done. I love you’.

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