Superdad! The widower drawing his way back to happiness…
Animator Gary Andrews has found a unique way to help his kids after their devastating loss...
Pulling up at the airport, it was time for the bit I hated… saying goodbye. Turning to my wife, Joy, I kissed her on the cheek.
Despite being together for 19 years, I still hated leaving her, even just for a week.
She was so much a part of me – she was in my very soul.
We’d met when she was just 15 and we were both volunteers at our local theatre in Horley, Surrey.
Back then, our 15-year age gap made a big difference.
A fully fledged man, I saw her as nothing more than a friendly teenager – a pal.
When she came back from studying at the University of York a few years later, though, she had really grown up, and our friendship blossomed.
By 1998, when she was 22, we couldn’t deny it any longer – we were in love.
Joy was funny, kind, gorgeous and very talented. I couldn’t believe my luck.
We married in 2004 and were delighted when our daughter, Lily, came along in 2007, followed by our son, Ben, in 2010.
By then, Joy and I had started a video production business together, alongside my work as a cartoon animator and director.
We loved working together and it gave us plenty of family time, too. That made solo business trips, like the one
I was embarking on, so much harder for us all.
‘I’ll see you next week,’ I smiled, before walking into the departure lounge at Heathrow to catch my flight to Vancouver, Canada.
The first day was a blur of travelling and meetings, but I missed Joy and the kids terribly. I caught up with her the next day on FaceTime.
‘I’ve got the flu,’ she said through sniffles.
‘Oh, Joy. You always seem to catch something the minute I’m away,’ I said. We chatted for a bit longer. I said she should rest, drink fluids…
‘Look after yourself. I love you.’
They were the last words I ever said to her…
When I checked in again the next day, Joy was feeling worse. She wasn’t up to chatting, so we exchanged texts instead.
Then, the following day, Joy’s sister, Marie, called my mobile phone.
‘Joy is really unwell. I think you should come home,’ she said.
Alarmed, I phoned to change my flight – keen to be at my wife’s side.
That evening, before I boarded the plane, I messaged Marie.
‘She’s not great,’ was her worrying reply.
Still, it would only be 10 hours before I’d be with Joy.
Finally touching down in the UK, I powered through the arrivals hall, heading towards my stop for the bus home. Suddenly, I spotted my mother-in-law and brother-in-law.
‘ What are you doing here? I was going to catch the bus,’ I exclaimed.
Taking me out to the car, they held my hands as they broke the earth-shattering news that would change my life for ever.
‘ We’ve lost her, Gary. She passed away at 3.15am,’ my mother-in-law wept. How? Joy was only 41. She was young, healthy and so full of life. It didn’t make sense. We drove home in shocked silence. Ben and Lily were waiting – excited to see me, they had no idea that anything had happened to their mum.
I sat them down and held them both, as I said, ‘Mummy is dead.’
Joy had been such a wonderful mother – so loving, kind and such fun.
Telling the children was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
That night, after they finally fell asleep in our bed, I knew I had to do what I always did.
Since my 54th birthday, I had drawn a doodle every day, showing the laughter, joy and challenges in our lives.
The only day I missed doodling was the day when I was in the air – the day my wonderful Joy died.
Now that she had gone, I knew I had to carry on.
I picked up my pen and pencil and drew a heart, broken in two, with a single tear at the bottom.
And, as the days trundled on, I took so much comfort in my sketch pad.
I drew us cuddled up on the sofa watching Strictly – something Lily and Joy had always done together.
From my first parents’ evening alone, to gym class with other mums, I wanted to show the reality of life as widowed a single dad.
‘ What was the doodle yesterday, Dad?’ the kids ask every morning.
It helps me to talk to them about how we all feel.
It’s not easy, but the children are resilient and I don’t want to tiptoe around the subject of death.
My kids have got me through the last six months.
It wasn’t until the postmortem, a few days after Joy’s death, that we found out she had died from sepsis. This is a frequently deadly condition, where the body starts to attack the organs in response to an infection.
I’d heard of sepsis before but I didn’t know exactly what it was. Symptoms include breathlessness, fatigue, chills and a temperature – like flu.
Getting help fast is really important, so I want to tell Joy’s story to raise awareness. I want people to be able to recognise the symptoms of sepsis before it’s too late, so that another family doesn’t have to go through this .
Now, at 57, I’m working with the UK Sepsis Trust, and I hope to produce a book of my drawings on the anniversary of Joy’s death to raise funds and awareness for them.
As Father’s Day approaches, we’ll miss Joy, but I’m so proud of my little team. I just hope she would be, too. For more information about the UK Sepsis Trust, see sepsistrust.org
‘I had to carry on. I picked up a pencil and drew a heart, broken in two’