WHAT ABOUT US?

For Lou Hynes, 48, it was her children who helped pull her out of the depths of grief

- ASHLEIGH PAGE, BEN LANE

Stepping into the living room, my husband Pete, then 40, was watching ice hockey highlights on the television. A dreary Saturday morning in December 2022, we were looking forward to a lazy weekend.

My eldest son Will, then 14, was at his dad's and our kids Charlie, then eight, and Matilda, six, were still upstairs. We'd all been suffering from colds and sniffles on and off for the last few weeks - once one began to recover, another would start coughing and spluttering. Typical winter colds for a family with young children, so a slow weekend was just the tonic we needed.

Noticing Pete rubbing his ear, I asked if he was OK. 'I'm going back to bed,' he sighed, thinking he was coming down with an ear infection. It was so unlike him, he usually powered through any illness. Head of innovation at a medical equipment company, and never one to be taken down by 'man flu', I knew he must have really felt poorly. The following week we were set to have a full week off work together - Christmas shopping, lunch out, some relaxed one-on-one time. I hoped a day in bed would set him right so we could enjoy it.

As the day wore on, the kids played in the living room, and I popped upstairs a few times with food, fresh water and painkillers for Pete.

Then, after tea, Charlie and Matilda picked a film for us to watch. As we settled down on the sofa, a huge crash echoed through the house. 'Sounds like Daddy's awake,' I laughed to the kids, going to investigate, thinking he'd dropped something.

Heading up to our bedroom in the loft, I peeked in through the door, but Pete was nowhere to be seen. Back down on the landing, I checked the kids' bedrooms and bathroom and still couldn't find him.

ALARMING DISCOVERY