Death becomes her but doesn’t become him

So Margaret Thatcher’s funeral is tomorrow. For all the iron lady stuff, political divisions and high emotions, an elderly woman has died. It is sad, but not tragic as she lived a full life (too full for some) and got to a ripe old age – as they say.

Today I learnt of my husband’s colleague who, aged 58, was killed this morning in a car accident. In a moment – his life was just gone in a flash, and the happiness of his wife and children destroyed and will never be the same.

In fact, his family’s lives will be defined by today. To be taken so suddenly, so young is the harshest blow. This first night without him, knowing he will never return but not comprehending how this will actually feel further down the line, because his clothes still smell of him, his things are still all around, is the cruellest blow.

I will never forget that disbelief and the tears of the first night without my father. As a friend once said – who had also lost their parents in sudden tragedies – welcome to the club no one wants to belong to. Although you learn to get on with life, a little bit of you dies and your heart will forever hold tears.

While others mourn for or riot over Thatcher tomorrow, my heart goes out to that family for his needless death will never make sense, while the untimeliness of it will forever rob them of not only the husband and father they loved, but the feeling of unbridled contentment and happiness.