Change of life

‘The shock of Mum’s death made me rethink everything’

It was an ordinary Sunday morning. I was making poached eggs on toast when I picked up my phone and saw four missed calls from my older sister, Emily. My stomach lurched –you just know that multiple missed calls mean bad news.

My parents had both been hit by a car while out walking near their house in the suburbs of Auckland, New Zealand. My mum, Jeanette, died at the scene and my dad, Roger, suffered a head injury. It was just two months after Mum’s 60th birthday.

Sonia, my girlfriend, booked us flights home – we lived in Wellington, where I worked as a financial analyst – while I hastily packed a very random suitcase. I forgot to take any socks but I did grab a suit and a bottle of good whisky for the funeral. Now I can’t believe I was thinking about that, 20 minutes after I heard the news, but I was in such shock I went into crisis-planning mode.

When we got to the hospital, my dad was allowed home. Sonia and I slept in my parents’ bedroom with him that night, on a camp bed by his side. We couldn’t bear to let him lie there alone without Mum.

In the days that followed, I went into autopilot, focusing on arranging Mum’s funeral. I couldn’t eat and lost half a stone in two weeks. The house was overrun with family and friends. People were just trying to do what they thought was best, but it was chaotic and totally draining. They brought so much food we ran out of fridge space, and so many flowers we ran out of vases. Then there were hundreds of Facebook and Whatsapp messages that I felt obliged to reply to. We had to put notes on the front door asking visitors to come back later. At some point my uncle mused, ‘Wouldn’t it be brilliant if we could coordinate this process?’ Somehow that triggered my idea for an online support hub for the bereaved. It sounds odd now that I was thinking about a business idea at that time but I guess my brain was trying to distract me from reality.

Mum’s death was a catalyst for change. After the funeral, I moved in with my dad – who made a full recovery – but it got to a point, after about four months, where that needed to stop so he could properly grieve. And I felt I needed some time alone too. I quit my job and went to Mexico for six months. I planned to study remotely for a professional qualification so I could return to my career as an analyst but I didn’t touch my study books – I ended up developing my website. The first few days were really tough, on my own, in a strange country. But after that, it was a relief to be around people who didn’t know about Mum.

On my return, Sonia and I moved to England and I won a place in a start-up accelerator in Manchester. I’ve now told my story hundreds of times to investors. I see it as unofficial therapy. Whenever I talk about what happened to me, people open up about their own bereavements.

I think Mum would be proud of me, although she’d probably be worried that I was working on something where my personal loss is so central. It might sound strange, but being surrounded by death every day makes it easier for me. When she died, I was the only person I knew who’d lost someone so close. Now I know loads of others. You realise you’re not the only one – and that’s comforting.

‘When she died, I was the only person I knew who’d lost someone so close. Now I know loads of others’