I MET Paul when I was 17. We are both from Lisburn and we kept up the long-distance relationship when I went to college in UCG. I had cancer the year after we were married, so we sort of felt that we'd had our share of bad luck.

Paul was just amazing, so strong and supportive. Because of that illness, we had always felt that I would be the one who would die first.

Paul was a member of the PSNI's e-crime unit in Belfast and one morning he fell at work and tore ligaments in his foot. Three weeks later I was at a charity event and I noticed all these missed calls on my phone. Paul had developed a blood clot that travelled to his lung. When I got home there was an ambulance crew at the house. He took a fit and died before they could take him to hospital. He was 45, I was 35.

The shock was enormous. I am lucky to have a great family. For a few months after Paul's death I stayed with my sisters and I really appreciate the time and love my family have shown me.

I went back to work a week after Paul died. What else would I have done? I couldn't bear to be in the house. Every time I walked in the door I had these awful flashbacks of Paul lying there.

I'm a teacher at Wallace High School and it has been a real haven for me. They have been amazing. Being surrounded by teenagers every day is very therapeutic.

It feels odd and wrong being a widow at such a young age. Lots of my friends are having babies and their lives are at a very exciting stage. Meeting others who have been widowed at a young age through Way Ireland has been very helpful. It's made me feel less alone. Knowing there is someone at the other end of a phone for a chat, or receiving an e-mail from someone who knows what life is really like means a great deal to me.

I feel I belong in the group and in the tumult of my life at the moment that's a great feeling. In other parts of my life I feel a little bit like driftwood - it's very difficult not having your partner by your side.

I certainly don't want to be defined by my widowhood. More than anything, I'm still Gilly. But meeting others who are sharing a similar, very uphill, journey at the moment makes me feel less alone. I'd encourage others who have found themselves in this strange new world to pluck up the courage to contact others who will understand.

This isn't the life I asked for but it's what I've got. I wish it were different but I know that I need to have tiny glimpses of happiness. I find a lot of comfort in literature. One of the texts I teach is Thornton Wilder's Our Townand I go back to a line from the play over and over in my attempt to accept Paul's death. "This is the way we were, in our growing up and in our marrying and in our living and in our dying."

I was truly blessed to have had Paul as my husband and I must accept that death is part of life. Even though he is gone, he is part of me. The line from the EE Cummings poem says it all: "I carry your heart - I carry it in my heart."

My daddy's death in February was a setback for me. It was sudden and it hit me for six - but I'm proud of what I've achieved this year. I completed my master's in educational management at Queen's University and I'm still standing.

Some say it's time to move on. It's not. I still very much feel married to Paul. I loved being a wife and I loved being part of a couple. I really miss that. I don't see myself ever marrying again. I will concentrate on healing myself for now.