The Radio Show, Paul, and the Ten Songs That Tell Our Story

What happened when I went on Vibe25 Radio to talk about widowhood at 50.

Would Paul have ever envisaged me going live on the radio?

Would Paul have ever envisaged me sharing songs that were so special to us?

Would Paul have ever envisaged me sharing stories about him?

I never would have envisaged any of it. So there is absolutely no way that he would either.

A few years ago there was a competition with an amazing prize that I wanted to win -a full consultancy day with a business coach. I wanted it desperately. My pet care business was doing well, but I knew it could be more, and I knew that day would help me get there.

There was just one problem. To enter, I had to give a presentation to a room full of people about all the marketing I'd done over the past twelve months. I had plenty of stories to share. What I didn't have was a bucket load of confidence.

But the prize was a golden egg. So a brave version of me signed us both up.

I came in the top three. I didn't win. And Paul drove 200 miles to be there in that room with me . He knew exactly how deep I'd had to dig to walk through that door, and he knew how much I needed him there.

That version of me that can conquer the nerves, can put herself outside her comfort zone only ever existed because Paul was always standing beside me.

Life without Paul has knocked my confidence but going on the radio felt entirely different.

Yes, I was nervous. But not once did I feel like backing out. Not once did it feel like a mistake.

Because this time I wasn't presenting about myself. I was talking about Paul.

Here is something I've learned in the year since he died. The majority of the world believes that hearing his name hurts me. So they choose silence. What they don't realise is that not hearing his name hurts so much more.

This could be solved with one simple question "are you okay to talk about him?" The answer will always, always be yes!

Paul is, and will always be, my favourite topic of conversation. I love hearing stories about him. I love knowing he mattered to people. And I love sharing stories about him too.

So when I was asked to go on local radio to talk about widowhood at 50, I said yes without hesitating for a single second.

When Paul was in hospital and we had just found out that his cancer was incurable, I broke down. I told him I wasn't strong enough to cope without him.

He told me I was. He said he had watched me become this person. He said he had helped build me into her.

He believed I was strong enough. So I have to believe it too.

That belief is one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me.

The Playlist

I was asked to choose ten songs for the show. I chose songs that reflect our past, our present, and the future I'm navigating without him.

There is something weirdly overwhelmingly and also incredible about sitting in a radio studio with headphones on, listening to a song that is woven into the very fabric of who you are. The feeling is extraordinary. Worth every single nerve that came before it.

The Past

1.Alone Together - Fall Out Boy

When Paul and I first met, he would burn songs onto CDs and give them to me to listen to in the car. This was the very first song he ever shared with me.

Lyrics mattered enormously to him. And the opening lines of this song felt like they had been written specifically for us. Two people who had both been through divorce, who had found each other when neither was quite expecting it.

"I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul?"

We did have room. We were alone together. And for as long as we had, that was everything.

2.Pompeii - Bastille

This was the first song I ever sent to Paul. He hadn't heard it before and was very impressed with my choice.

Not long after, he went on holiday with his best friend Steve. He played this song on repeat the entire trip. It was on that holiday that Paul realised he had fallen in love with me. By the end of the week, Steve hated this song with a passion.

When it came to choosing music for Paul's funeral I knew this song had to be there. I chose the slower orchestral version. Steve was sitting a couple of rows behind me in the church. During the part of the song he hates the most I turned round to him and smiled. We both knew exactly what this song had meant, and what it had started.

Paul had a phrase he used often. He would say that you come with nothing, you leave with nothing, all you have are your memories. Creating memories was everything to him.

"But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?"

When I close my eyes, he is still there in the memories. And nothing has changed at all.

3.Working Man - Imagine Dragons

Paul was an accountant. I called him my serious accountant. He had worked hard in his career. We often took the mickey out of him for being an ‘accountant’. He was my hard working man.

But he was also a dad to three children and a step-dad to my two. He was a terrible dad dancer. Every single time this song came on, he would do the most spectacular, uninhibited, joyful dad dance you have ever witnessed.

It makes me smile every time I hear it. It always will.

4.Empire State of Mind - Alicia Keys

Paul had worked and lived all over the world. When I met him I was absolutely terrified of flying and hadn't been on a plane for years. He told me the world needed to be explored and that he wanted to take me to New York.

We went the week before Christmas. It was the most magical trip I have ever been on. He was completely right — the world does need to be explored, and memories need to be made.

The flight over was fine. The flight back was a different story. I had a panic attack and told everyone on the plane we were going to die. Paul calmly talked me down and personally reassured several passengers within earshot that we were, in fact, going to be absolutely fine.

Because of him, I got over my fear of flying. I have since travelled the world. We went back to New York a few years later with my two children. A different experience, but still extraordinary.

New York will always hold the most special memories. Paul will always be in every single one of them.

5.Mamma Mia -Mamma Mia Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

The year before Paul died I turned 50 and wrote a bucket list. One of the items on it, thanks to my daughter, was a Mamma Mia inspired holiday to Greece.

Paul hated the idea of a package holiday. He hated the idea of Greece. He was going to have to do both. This holiday was either going to be a triumph or a disaster.

It was his best holiday ever. He became the most relaxed person any of us had ever seen. He said he had saved the best until last.

When he was in hospital he talked about that Greek holiday constantly. All he wanted was to be back at the hotel bar with a cold beer in his hand.

The summer after he died, the children and I went back to the same hotel. And we had that beer for him.

The Present

6.Who Knew - Pink

Life is a gift and you genuinely never know what the future holds. I am deeply, profoundly grateful that I found Paul. He was my soulmate. He made me who I am. He was the loudest, most enthusiastic cheerleader I have ever had.

We thought we had decades left. Cancer crept up on us and within three weeks he was gone.

"I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again."

I hold onto that line. I hope with everything I have that it's true.

7.If Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback

Paul and I had completely different music tastes. He loved heavy metal. I am more of a Taylor Swift person. He would play me his songs and most of the time I would hate them, but every now and then one would get through.

He chose one of the songs for his own funeral - Afterlife by Five Finger Death Punch. He will always be remembered for that choice.

When you have witnessed an unexpected death you understand how precious life is. There are two versions of me now, the version before Paul died, and the version since. The version before would never have said yes to going on the radio.

But when you ask yourself - if today was your last day, what would you do? It changes every decision you make.

I said yes. I'm glad I did.

8.Always - The Boxer Rebellion

Paul gave me this song in the early days of our relationship. The lyrics land completely differently now.

"Always remember me when you are lost, when you're in need. Always remember us, even if you fall apart."

I listen to this song on most days. The days aren't easy and I do fall apart. When I'm alone in the car and this song comes on I feel that connection with him. After a good cry, I can find my way back to survival mode.

One of the things Paul said in hospital was that he didn't want to be forgotten. When I hear this song he is right there with me. I could never forget him.

He had a phrase for facing a tough challenge. He would say he needed to drink a cup of concrete. This song helps me drink mine.

The Future

9.Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

One of the hardest things about losing someone is that you suddenly become the person making all the decisions. You need to make decisions for yourself, for your children, for everything. Paul chose one of his funeral songs. I chose Pompeii. His friend Steve helped with the last one. Those decisions were made in the fog of the worst weeks of my life.

Something that worries a lot of widows is that we have made all the decisions for our person. But who will make them for us?

One evening my daughter had friends were round and they were all in the lounge together singing this song.

I had built my life around Paul, and he had built his around me. And a landslide brought it down.

People say that time heals. It really doesn't. But this song says that time makes you bolder, and that is a much better and more honest way to describe it.

This song is going on my own funeral playlist. It might seem strange to have those conversations with your children. But if I can take as many decisions away from them as possible, I will.

10.Mr Brightside - The Killers

This is one of my all time favourite songs. Every time I hear it I want to get up and dance.

Paul and I went to a friend's wedding a few years ago and this song came on. We turned the dancefloor into a mosh pit. When Paul died, that friend's husband told me he would never forget the night he and Paul nearly killed each other dancing to this song.

This is also going on my funeral playlist. Lyrically it makes absolutely no sense for a funeral. I don't care even slightly. It makes me want to dance, and I think that's exactly right.

Paul was worried he would be forgotten.

I hope that a morning on a local radio show talking about nothing but him, our life together, and the songs that have held me together this past year has shown him that forgetting him was never, ever an option.

He believed I was strong enough to do this without him. I'm still working on believing it myself. But I showed up. And I'll keep showing up.

For him. And for every widow who needs to see that it's possible.

If you're a widow reading this and you recognised yourself in any part of it. Maybe it’s the silence where their name should be, the quiet evenings, the grief that doesn't get easier but does make you bolder - I have built something for you.

A place where their name is always welcome. Where you never have to explain. Where connection comes through your letterbox, handwritten, from someone who is on the same road.