‘WHERE'S MY DADDY?'
My hubby went to a bucks’ party and never came home
I was walking towards the pub with my date when I heard a crack and felt myself stumble forwards. “I don’t believe it,” I said to Glen, 28. “My heel’s broken.”
I couldn’t hobble around like that all night!
My only option was to call my brother David and ask him to bring me another pair of shoes.
e problem was, I was dating Glen in secret.
We’d known each other for years, and everyone was always hoping we’d get together.
When we nally decided to give it a go, we didn’t want any pressure, so he thought we’d sneak o and meet at a pub away from town.
Now, as David pulled up with my shoes and a car full of mates, the cat was well and truly out of the bag. “Busted!” they all yelled. “So much for keeping it quiet,” I laughed to Glen.
By the end of the date, we were both hooked on each other.
Our families were thrilled when they found out.
“I knew you two would end up together,” my mum said with a smile.
e following year, we bought a house together, then Glen proposed and we married a few years later.
Before long, I fell pregnant and Glen was with me as I gave birth to our baby son, Ryley.
“He’s beautiful,” Glen said proudly.
As Ryley began toddling, I loved watching him and his daddy kicking a ball together in the yard.
When he was 18 months old, I fell pregnant again.
“I just want the baby to be healthy,” Glen said. “But it’d be lovely to have a girl, so we have one of each.”
“It would,” I agreed. We decided we’d nd out what we were having at my 20-week scan.
But before that, Glen was o on his mate Jack’s bucks’ party.
He was due to drop Ryley at my parents’ place so he came in to work to say goodbye to me.
“Have a good time then,” I said to him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Glen replied.
I watched him walk o down the street, hand in hand with Ryley.
at evening, after I put Ryley to bed, I decided to have an early night.
I rang Glen.
“We’re just having a meal,” he said. “It’s all going great.”
It all sounded chilled so we said our goodnights and I went o to bed.
e next morning,
I texted Glen.
Did you have a good time? I wrote.
It was only 7am, but he always woke early, no matter what.
By 10am, he still hadn’t responded which wasn’t like him.
I tried calling his friend Pete, and thankfully he answered the phone.
“At last,” I said. “Where’s Glen? He’s not answering.’
ere was silence. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. He started crying and then the phone went dead.
I was about to ring him back when Mum walked through the front door.
“You need to sit down,” she said gently.
“I don’t want to sit down,” I replied, starting to panic.
She begged me to but I refused.
“I’m sorry darling, but
Glen’s dead,” she wept. I stared at her. “Don’t be so ridiculous, Mother!” I cried, stunned.
Instinctively, I grabbed my phone and texted Glen.
en I looked at Mum and saw how devastated she was.
I realised it was true. She explained that because I was pregnant, the police had contacted her rst, so she could break the news gently.
Glen was only 34. How could he be gone without meeting our baby?
Mum took me and Ryley to her house.
“Where’s my daddy?” Ryley kept asking. “He’s at work,” I lied. How could I tell a two-year-old that the daddy he worshipped was never coming home?
Soon, Glen’s mates from the bucks’ party arrived.
One of them had found Glen unresponsive on the
oor of the hotel bathroom at 5am. Despite e orts to revive him, he was already gone. A post-mortem found that the cause of Glen’s death was him choking on his own vomit. But what had caused the vomiting was inconclusive.
Just four days later, it was my parents and little Ryley who came with me to my 20-week scan.
Mum explained to the midwife what happened and she had tears in her eyes as we went into the room.
ere were more tears when the sonographer revealed the baby’s gender. “A baby girl,” I repeated. Just what Glen had wanted. I put the scan photo of our baby daughter in his co n.
In time, an inquest was held into Glen’s death. It heard he’d drunk between eight and 12 pints of beer over an eight-hour period before his death. CCTV showed him returning to the hotel that night but he wasn’t staggering about drunk. He was walking calmly.
e coroner said a small abnormality in Glen’s heart, combined with drinking alcohol could have caused an arrhythmic heartbeat, making it beat too slowly or too quickly.
A week later, I gave birth to our daughter, Darcey.
I gave her the middle name Glenn in tribute to her daddy.
In time, I got together with an old friend, Ade. We’re now married.
Along with my kids, and Ade’s daughter Samantha, 24, we’re a happy, blended family.
We talk about Glen nearly every day and Ryley and Darcey know what a wonderful man and loving daddy he was.
I’m lucky I found happiness again.
I’m proof that you can rebuild your life after terrible loss.
It wasn’t like him to not respond