I came across a headline the other day that instantly made me angry. It was a tweet on social media from a newspaper in Canada, local to Edmonton. I was in a fairly sunshiney mood until that moment. The more I looked at the headline, the more I felt as if my blood was beginning to boil. Like a fire was about to shoot out of my head, a la Anger in the movie Inside Out. Which is one of, if not my favourite Pixar movie- just so you know.

This was the headline;

“Widow speaks out after Wynn’s Law effectively defeated”

Here’s the backstory. This headline is regarding a lady named Shelley Wynn. Her husband was killed on duty in January, 2015. A few months before Dan. Cst David WYNN was with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Our husbands unfortunately shared the same fate. The only real differences were that my husband was killed instantly, whereas she watched her husband’s life slowly be taken away whilst she sat at vigil with him in a hospital room. In my opinion, this was far more traumatising. After her husband’s death, she fought to have a law set into place so that it would be mandatory for a Crown prosecutor to present an accused person’s criminal record and any outstanding charges during a bail hearing. Had this have been done, the shooter would not have been released on bail and her husband may not have been senselessly murdered.

So, knowing this information. Look at the headline again. To most, there isn’t really anything that stands out. Look at the first word.

Widow.

Why couldn’t this headline read her name rather than such a cold word. Yes, we are widows, but we are also people. People who want to get on with their lives. I know, for myself personally, as time went on, I struggled with constantly being known as anything but simply Claire. Have you heard that rhyme. The one about names… Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me. Well.Newsflash. Names hurt. They hurt a lot.

That word. widow. It began to define me as a person. I became known as “The widow of fallen officer Daniel Woodall” or “Cst Daniel Woodall’s widow Claire.” My name took second place or didn’t make it to the podium at all. Not only in the news but in my everyday life. People walking past me, looking at me. Whispering to themselves (and not in a derogatory way) “that’s that woman who’s husband was killed. The police widow.” There was that word again. Widow. That word defining who I was to others.

There I was trying to move on. Trying to make new relationships, begin new romances. And I couldn’t. They couldn’t. (It may have been a good excuse to use-but still!) I felt like I had been boxed into this category of untouchable. Dan’s passing was so prolific and so utterly earth shattering to the city, I wasn’t able to be myself anymore. Often, unbeknown to them, people couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I was a normal person wanting normal relationships- be that friends or otherwise- but I was.

The realisation to come back to Manchester was, in part, due to this very reason. I couldn’t move on. I don’t want to be single forever and I’m pretty sure Dan wouldn’t want me to be single forever. I’m 34. Yeah, that’s right. I said it. I have children that are rambunctious. Typical boys in every sense of the word. They need a permanent male figure in their lives to steer them in the right direction. To help me in teaching them right from wrong. Don’t get me wrong, I know I am more than capable of doing this myself. I’ve done it for the last 2 years. Single parenthood has made tested me and brought out this person who I sometimes don’t recognise and that’s both a good and bad thing. Honestly though, what I need, is someone that I can turn to and say. TAG-you’re it. You deal with them. I’m tapping out.

Oh, woe is you. Everyone came to your aid, did everything they could to help you and your children and you’re moaning?! Seriously?! About a word?! I can hear some of you. I can see you rolling your eyes.  Let me tell you, I adore Edmonton. The boya and I received so much love. From the people of the city and beyond, I drew so much strength. Strength that made me able to move on from this tragedy.

I’ve also explained that I don’t like this anonymity anymore either. I will delve a little deeper another time. Then you’ll all be really confused (welcome to my world!) There’s a fine line and right now I don’t know which side of it I want to be on. What I do know though is that I’m ready for something new. Ready to welcome in someone new. Ready to start this new chapter as simply, Claire

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