I’ve seen the pictures of their wedding – Tim looking uncomfortable in a suit and Jane in a simple dress and headscarf. But the most remarkable thing I learnt from all those post-breakfast conversations was that Jane made Tim promise that after she’d gone he wouldn’t stay on his own; he would go out and meet someone else.I learnt that she was shy and quiet and took a long time to get to know someone well. He didn’t want to admit that his wife was going to die but she insisted they talk about it.
He contacted WAY, and through the friendships he made there he was able to start looking outwards again.
About two months after we got together Tim suggested I meet Sarah.
In the first emails Tim and I sent each other we mentioned previous relationships – my failed marriage and his wife’s death at 36 from breast cancer – but only in a fact-finding kind of way.
And when we met over a pint in a Hampshire pub, we touched on those subjects again but agreed they weren’t right for a first date.
How will the story stack up against the greatest films about business?
How does a man help his young wife reclaim her dignity when she is suffering from cancer?She contacted WAY (an organisation for those who are bereaved at a young age), got their leaflets and saved them for him.And after she died, when he was ready, he did as he had promised.I was possibly more nervous about meeting Sarah than before my first date with Tim. It was Sarah who reassured us both that what was happening was good and happy, and it was Sarah who, a couple of years later, encouraged Tim to move in with me.I thought I had a lot to live up to, but I’m not a best-friend replacement, I couldn’t ever be that. It’s just that Jane, the linchpin who brought us together, is missing, but what does feel odd is that if she had never gone missing I wouldn’t know Tim or Sarah.What can he do when she loses a breast to the disease, when her once beautiful face is ravaged by the effects of chemotherapy, when her long blonde hair falls out in clumps in her hand?