It’s been a few months since I wrote for you last. I loved writing my columns about this beautiful area, its places and people, its history – and especially our great river that defines us.

Three days after Christmas my wife of 55 years died. She had been diagnosed with one of the ‘Rare Dementias’ in 2008 when she was still teaching at a university, leading development programmes abroad like bringing Roma children into the state education system and working as a Lay Member of East Devon’s Housing Board. We nursed her at home until 2016 when after a spell in the RDE she went into residential care.

She loved Exmouth where she trained at Rolle and learned to sail here. It became our weekend retreat and 20 years ago our home.

Death is not dignified. I was with her. A member of the care staff closed the curtains; another closed her eyes. And I kissed her last goodnight in over half a century. A wonderful member of the care staff, Liz, insisted on walking me home. I walked with her in a trance through a deserted reception area into a cold, grey Exmouth afternoon.

Every week I read the Journal’s obituary columns looking for names, friends, constituents from the days when I was a councillor. Many of you reading this column will have been there. What do you do? I rang our three children who just collapsed in grief – and said they were on their way. I rang her remaining brother. I rang our great priest Steve who was with us within the hour and her chosen undertaker who has been professional, meticulous and caring throughout.

When my daughter and I were able to think through the funeral arrangements we decided that Covid plus the time of year and the time Heather had been in residential care, subject to countless lockdowns, we could not expect more than 20 or 30 at most. There were nearly 100 – family, friends, academic colleagues, her colleagues from the Housing Board, my own political colleagues from all parties including Jeff, Chair of DCC and Steve, Exmouth’s Mayor. And we have filled albums with cards and letters.

Every day someone in Exmouth dies and every day a partner and family go through what many people just don’t want to talk about.
Should I have Bereavement Counselling? Almost certainly. I will.
‘Think of those years of the great times’. Sorry. That just adds to what has been lost.
‘You’ve got such a supportive family’. Yes, I have. But what of those who haven’t?
‘This is a big hole in your life’. Yes. That is true, but there is nothing that can replace what has been lost. But there may, in time, be small things that will help – for example, a walk to the town centre rather than taking the car, a quiet evening with the grandchildren, short visits to old friends. Not the same but maybe a help.
And I need sunshine. Exmouth sunshine. The best!
Thanks to everyone who has written to me.