‘AS A SINGLE PARENT, FINDING BALANCE IS THE TRICKIEST CHALLENGE’ Simon Thomas on what fatherhood is like as a widower
FOLLOWING THE LOSS OF HIS WIFE IN 2017, FORMER BLUE PETER AND SKY SPORTS PRESENTER SIMON THOMAS FOUND HIMSELF A SINGLE PARENT TO THEIR THEN EIGHT-YEAR-OLD SON, ETHAN. HE TELLS ELLA DOVE ABOUT FATHERHOOD, FAMILY AND LOOKING TO THE FUTURE
As Simon Thomas answers the door to his cosy farmhouse near Reading, I’m taken aback to see a shy little face peering from the hallway behind him. It’s Ethan, Simon’s now 10-year-old son, who is at home because he has an inset day. As he stands by his dad’s side, I notice they have the same electric blue eyes and are dressed almost identically in blue jeans and navy jumpers. Coincidence or choice, the message is clear: these two are a team.
‘Are you okay to play in the lounge, my boy?’ Simon asks. Ethan nods and smiles at me before disappearing, impeccably polite despite his initial shyness. Later on, becoming braver, he shows me a stop-motion animation he’s made using Lego dinosaurs. ‘By Ethan and Daddy,’ the credits read. The words tug at my heart. It’s been more than two years since Simon’s wife, Gemma, died suddenly in November 2017, aged 40, just three days after being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia, a rare and aggressive form of cancer.
Since then, the TV presenter has made it his mission to speak out about the impact that grief can have. Today, in his large, spotless kitchen, warm fairy lights twinkle from ceiling beams, candles are lit and everything is in its place. The atmosphere is one of calm, quiet companionship. In the living room, Ethan is silent. ‘He’ll be listening to every word,’ Simon laughs.
On the wall is a large family planner, bought for him by his new partner, legal professional Derrina Jebb, whom he met in 2018 through his church. He tells me he is ‘truly blessed to have met her’. While neither Simon nor Ethan will forget the past, this calendar is evidence of their shared determination to look to the future. As we sit down over a cup of coffee, Simon reflects on fatherhood and family…
‘When you become a single parent, everything is now on you. You’re the good cop, the bad cop, the planner, the cook, the chauffeur, the entertainer. You enviously watch that family at the school gate who seem to have it all organised; they arrive as a unit with both parents, their troupe of children learning three instruments each, winning prizes and reading endless books without protest. Every school has this family. They are frighteningly, efficiently sorted.
In the early days after losing Gemma, I’d regularly get to school with Ethan and realise I’d forgotten something he needed to bring in, or receive a call from a teacher to tell me he didn’t have a packed lunch. My mind felt crowded. Grief had shattered our lives. There was no chance of remembering everything.
We all want to be supermums and dads. But the truth is, when you scratch beneath the surface, no one is perfect. Even that seemingly flawless family might forget a guitar lesson sometimes. For example, when I told Ethan’s friends’ parents that I was finding it hard to interest him in reading, I was met with an instant chorus of, “Oh, tell me about it, we’re exactly the same.” There is huge comfort in honesty. It’s really good to talk.
Ethan had just turned eight when his mum died. He had a lot of questions at the beginning because when children go through loss, they try to make sense of the future. He’d ask me about Mummy being poorly, where we were going to live, what would happen with my job. Sometimes I didn’t have the answers. But I instinctively felt very early on that I needed to address every question with openness and sincerity, however tough or ridiculous. Each time you say, “I don’t want to talk about that,” you begin to shut the door to communication. Eventually, they may stop asking, and that can be detrimental.
I made a decision to never hide my emotions from Ethan. The only thing I do keep to myself is anger, because it is unnerving for children to witness. I think it’s crucial for Ethan to know that, as a boy, and one day a man, it’s not a sign of weakness to express your feelings. Now that Ethan is older, he’s not quite as willing to be open. I’ll ask him what he did with his counsellor and he holds back more than he used to, which can be hard to deal with, but I’m slowly learning to accept that he needs space to process his
‘I decided to never hide my emotions from Ethan’
feelings. I know that if he is really stuck with something, he can and will tell me.
In the past couple of years, my approach to parenting has definitely changed. I’m learning all the time. I’m an open and honest dad and I like to have fun and make Ethan laugh with silly voices, but I’m also the one urging him to do his homework, which can be a difficult juggling act. If I’m strict with him and he gets frustrated or upset, I’ve learned to take myself out of the room for a few minutes rather than push on. It’s about holding firm but still giving reassurance, and that can be tough when it’s just the two of you.
As a single parent, finding balance is the trickiest challenge. I haven’t worked full time since Gemma died because my focus has been solely on Ethan, and my more difficult days come when I feel a bit rudderless in terms of my career. I want to work more, but I worry about how it will work with childcare. In the past, I’ve been too proud to admit I’m struggling, or I feel guilty imposing on someone yet again. However, I’ve learned that if someone offers help, they mean it, so don’t be afraid to reach out.
When hard times strike, we all have a choice of how to cope. Ethan and I will always remember Gemma, but I want to chase life down again because it is there to be embraced. Ethan will grow up without a mum and that is a source of ongoing pain, but Derrina has become everything but to him. We see each other at weekends and when I ask Ethan why he likes spending time with her, he says, ‘I feel like a family.’ She has never tried to be his mum, but she’s another person he can talk to and they’ve formed a seamless bond. I believe it works because we always include Ethan, ensuring he’s part of the conversation.
Looking back, that dark place we were in feels like light years away now. In spite of everything, Ethan has so much joy and our shared happiness gives me hope for the future. Every night when we have our bedtime chat and say our special prayer for Mummy, I’m so thankful for my little mate. He’s not just my son, he’s my best friend.’