My Story

In mid January 2025 my world shattered.

Two police officers came to the door to tell me my husband was dead.

The next day, I faced the most devastating moment of my life: sitting down with our sweet, innocent 1 and 4 year old girls and telling them their daddy was never coming home. Watching their tiny hands tremble and their tiny faces drop as they listened intently. I witnessed two hearts breaking right in front of my eyes with every word I spoke.

When Theo died, a part of me died with him. He was our heartbeat; charismatic, funny, intelligent, and the most devoted father. When I say he adored the London Marathon, I mean he was obsessed; he may as well have been doing PR for them, constantly encouraging others to enter! He was absolutely infectious, running with joy and determination, somehow pulling off incredible times. His dream for 2025 was to run a sub 3 hour marathon.

Instead, the reality of marathon day 2025 was me sitting there, holding his ashes on my lap, crying uncontrollably. It was another horrendously painful milestone, and even the build up… seeing the barriers go up and the streets being prepared; it was excruciating. That day, and everything leading up to it, broke me again.

But it also made me determined to change what that day means. For us, the marathon has to return to what it was for Theo, a symbol of resilience, strength, and the courage to keep moving forward.

It devastated me that, along with the catastrophic loss of their daddy, my daughters would no longer get to watch him on the track, shouting with pride and glee. They were already so lost without him, and this felt like yet another cruel blow.

That’s another reason I had to run this marathon. I couldn’t bear the thought of them never again having a parent to cheer for; someone to wave their little signs for with so much excitement. So now, I’ll run for him, for them, and for all the love that still fills our hearts even through the pain.

Through this horrendous journey, St Christopher’s Hospice has been our anchor. They have guided me when I had no idea how to explain death to two little girls, provided play therapy to help our eldest to help her express grief through pictures and collages, held memorial days where families like ours felt less alone, and provided parent groups so I didn’t have to carry this pain in silence. They’ve helped me find the words and helped our daughters find safe ways to express their sadness, love, and memories of their daddy.

By supporting this page, you’re helping what’s left of our little family transform our grief into something meaningful. You’re giving two little girls the chance to find pride and hope on a day that once crushed us. And you’re honouring a man who loved life, loved running, and loved his family beyond words.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you, truly for listening, and for being on this journey with me. ❤️‍🩹

With love,

Astrid xxx