There's Life After Loss - Sharleen's Story

When Sharleen’s husband died suddenly in 2023, she didn’t know how to cope with her grief. Everything changed when OrangeLine, the confidential telephone service for people who are bereaved, lonely and isolated, got in touch. Here Sharleen shares her journey and how OrangeLine helped her to find life after loss.

I met my husband, Dean, when I was just 14. He was my first boyfriend, and we went on to spend 33 years together. We married, built a life, and had our son, Charlie. Dean wasn’t just my husband, he was my carer too. I have rheumatoid arthritis, and he looked after me through two knee replacements and so much more. He gave me the best life.

Nothing prepared me for how suddenly everything changed. On 7 April 2023, Dean was diagnosed with terminal cancer. They told us he had six weeks, but it turned out to be just two. I was absolutely petrified. I couldn’t make sense of it, how someone so young could be dying.

That’s when Saint Francis Hospice got in touch and said, “We’ll see you through this.” The Hospice at Home team came straight out to us. I barely remember the details because everything was such a blur, but I do remember how kind they were. One evening, when Dean became very unwell, I called the hospice and within the hour two nurses arrived. They gently told us that he only had hours left.

We were gathered around his bedside, me, my in laws, and my son, saying a prayer. Those hospice nurses, who had only just met us in the most traumatic moment of our lives, held our hands. When Dean died, I didn’t know what to do. I was in shock. They stayed with us until the funeral directors arrived. I’ll never forget that.

Afterwards, I became incredibly unwell myself and later discovered I had COVID. Everything felt too much. The shock, the grief, the loneliness. People were around for the first couple of months, but then life carries on for everyone else. That’s when the days became the hardest, when I didn’t want to carry on.

And then Karen from the OrangeLine team called. At first, I didn’t know who they were. They just sounded really caring and I found myself waiting for their Thursday afternoon call each week. They never judged me. I had stopped caring about how I looked, my makeup, any of it, but they accepted me exactly as I was. Just having someone listen, someone who understood, was a godsend. They would always say, “We’re here for you now.” And they truly meant it.

Eventually, OrangeLine encouraged me to attend the Friendly Faces bereavement group that met in Romford. The first time I tried, I couldn’t leave the house. I called Karen and she was so understanding. When I finally made it to that first session, I knew straight away I was in a safe space.

Those early meetings were filled with silence, tears, and hugs. I thought I wasn’t grieving “right,” but being with others who understood showed me there is no right way. Slowly, the room filled with bits of laughter again. Someone suggested we set up a WhatsApp group so we could stay connected between sessions. I ended up becoming the admin, which felt like a huge responsibility at first, but it gave me a much needed sense of purpose.

Our group is a mix of ages, from 49 to 86, and we’ve become so bonded. We met each other in the most vulnerable, traumatic circumstances, but we built trust quickly because we were all struggling in similar ways. We meet twice a week, sometimes more. Some of us have even been on a cruise, others go swimming, or we have dinners and breakfasts together. We don’t only talk about grief, there’s still life, and we share that too.

I’m a completely different person now, and people can see it. When I first came to the group, I clung to Karen like glue. Now, I’m independent again. I hadn’t seen her for six months, and when I finally did, she gave me the biggest cuddle. That’s the kind of care the hospice gives, not just for the person who is dying, but for the people left behind.

My son also found his own way through grief. He ran a half marathon for the hospice and raised over £1,000. He later accepted counselling from the hospice too, which helped him enormously.

There were days I genuinely didn’t know how to keep going. But OrangeLine and the hospice didn’t let me disappear into that loneliness. They helped me find the strength to step outside again. They gave me friends who check in, who understand without needing explanations. If one of us cries, the others know why. If someone is unwell, we look out for them.

This journey has taught me that losing the person you love most isn’t the end of everything. It feels like it at first. But with support, there really is light at the end of the tunnel. I know Dean wouldn’t want me sitting at home, sad and lonely. And because of the hospice, because of OrangeLine, Friendly Faces, and the Hospice at Home nurses, I’m no longer alone.

I want other people to know these services exist. You don’t have to go through grief isolated and frightened. There is help. There is hope. And there are people who genuinely care and who are ready to walk with you through the darkest times.