Our perfect life. My perfect husband. Our perfect daddy. My perfect family—gone in the blink of an eye. My husband was the most loving, fun, supportive, and loyal man you could ever meet. Everyone loved him, but most importantly, he was mine. He was ours.
We were childhood sweethearts, together for 15 years. In that time, we built what felt like a dream life. We bought two homes, got married in 2016, and welcomed two beautiful little girls into the world. Our life felt full, secure, and complete.
Our love story began back in 2005. We were just 14 years old when we first met at a nightclub during an under-18s “Nappy Night.” From the very first day, everything moved fast. It was obvious to everyone around us how deeply we loved each other. We became part of each other’s families almost instantly, never once imagining what the future might hold.
In 2013, we bought our first home—a house that quickly became the center of countless parties with friends, often to the annoyance of our neighbors. Ewen was never a quiet man. His loud, bubbly voice filled every room, and to me, it was perfect.
The following year, 2014, he proposed and asked me to be his wife. It was pure magic, and I knew in that moment he was my forever. On June 4, 2016, we were married in what felt like the most incredible celebration of love. We were the perfect couple, surrounded by everyone we loved. We flew to Thailand for our honeymoon, though “relaxing” wouldn’t quite describe it. We laughed, drank, and lived fully from the moment we arrived to the moment we left. That was us—happy, funny, wildly in love. What we didn’t know then was that I was already pregnant.
In 2017, our first daughter, Ayla, was born, and instantly we became the happiest little family. Parenthood didn’t slow us down—we worked hard, played hard, and cherished every moment. Nights out with friends, family gatherings, holidays to Barcelona, Amsterdam, Malta, and memories that felt endless. We even joked about being “young, wild, and happy forever.” We’d laugh and say, “Why are we so perfect together?” Never imagining it wouldn’t last.
Ewen was a plumber, a grafter through and through. He worked tirelessly to provide for me and our girls, while still finding time for golf days and beers with the lads. He was a man’s man—strong, hardworking, social—but above all, a devoted husband and father. His smile was infectious, his laugh unmistakable. Anyone who knew Ewen only had good things to say. There aren’t many like him in this world, and I will forever be grateful I got to call him mine.
At the start of 2020, we found out baby number two was on the way. Ewen dreamed of a boy, a mini version of himself, but when we learned we were having another girl, our happiness only grew. With our family expanding and our love of hosting everyone we knew, we decided to search for a bigger forever home.
Ewen was the heart of our friendship group—the life and soul. You always heard him before you saw him. His booming voice, his beaming smile—he lit up every space he entered. Sure, he was loud, and maybe too much for some, but to us, he was our Ewie.
Then came 2020, a year none of us will ever forget. Lockdown took away pubs, parties, hugs—but it gave us something else. We made memories. Long family walks, Zoom quizzes, dancing and drinking in the kitchen. We soaked up every moment as a family of three before becoming four. In June, we moved into our forever home. Ewen immediately began renovations, dreaming up a garden bar, football nights with friends, and endless gatherings. He had so many plans and worked so hard to make them real.
In August 2020, our second daughter, Poppy, was born. Our family was complete. A perfect little team of four—though we didn’t know it would only last three and a half months.
On Wednesday, December 9, Ewen left for work early. He kissed me and the girls goodbye and said, “I love you all,” like he did every day. Ayla ran after him, shouting, “Daddy, I love you.” That was our last kiss. The last time we heard his voice. The last time we saw him.
At 1 p.m., my world shattered. I opened the door holding baby Poppy to see two police officers. Their hats came off. I collapsed. I screamed. I knew before they spoke. Ewen was gone.
They told me he’d been in a car accident and had passed away. Words that will never leave me. How could this be real? This didn’t happen to people like us.
Our fairy tale was over. Everything was supposed to be the four of us. Now it was just three. The pain was unbearable. Questions flooded my mind—how would I do this? How would my girls survive without their daddy?
When Ayla came home from preschool and asked, “Mummy, why are you crying?” my heart broke. I told her Daddy had gone to the moon, just like her grandad. It was the only way I could explain it. Watching her cry shattered me all over again.
Ewen had died instantly in a collision with a Royal Mail lorry. Knowing he felt no pain is the only comfort I cling to. Still, the calls came—police, coroners, funeral directors. It felt unreal.
Messages poured in. Flowers filled the house. Love surrounded us. And yet, here I was—alone with two babies, living a life we never planned.
Ten days later came my 30th birthday. Ewen had planned everything. Decorations, gifts, flowers, cards. Even an eternity ring. It broke me—but it also reminded me how deeply loved I was.
I needed to see him. I visited him six times before the funeral. I talked to him. He was mine.
The funeral was perfect, though only 28 people could attend. I stood there at 30 years old, during a pandemic, reading my final love letter to my husband.
And now, ten weeks on, I’m surviving. It still feels like knives every day. Life is quieter. Harder. Painful.
So please—hug your loved ones. Tell them you love them. Sudden loss changes everything.
Forever my husband. Forever their daddy. Forever our Ewie.
