I’m 57, I live in South Australia, and in April 2026 my husband Ian died after 32 years of marriage.

For 6 years before that, I was his support person and carer while he lived with metastatic prostate cancer. He did it with more grace, strength and humour than anyone had a right to expect. Those years changed me in ways I’m still discovering.

So here I am, starting again. I’m not quite where I expected to be at this point in life, but I’m here and I’m curious to see what comes next.

Why this blog?

For a long time my life was organised around appointments, medications, and making sure Ian was comfortable. Now the house is quieter and the calendar is emptier. I’m working out who I am when I’m not someone’s carer, and who I’m going to be as a widow in my late fifties.

I want to write about that honestly. That means the good days and the ones where getting out of bed counts as a win. It also means the strange admin of grief, the small joys that sneak up on you, and all the firsts: the first birthday without him, the first anniversary, and the first time firing up the BBQ on my own and realising how many sausages one person can actually eat.

If you’re navigating loss too, or you’re simply starting over at any age, I hope you’ll find some company here.

Table for one, please

One of the biggest adjustments has been learning to do things on my own. For 34 years I had a built-in travel buddy, dinner date and someone to nudge at the movies. Now it’s just me, and I’m discovering that “just me” can be OK company.

I’ve started travelling solo. That has included a trip to Bali where I learned that a beautiful resort isn’t much fun if there’s nothing within walking distance and nobody to chat to. And an upcoming cruise in January. I’m figuring out where women travelling alone feel welcome. That means places with friendly locals, good food nearby, and enough going on that you never feel stranded.

Closer to home, I’m learning to go to a café, a show, a market or a restaurant on my own without feeling like everyone is wondering where my companion is. (Spoiler: they’re not. They’re looking at their phones.)

I’ll share what’s worked, what hasn’t, and the tips I wish someone had given me before my first solo outing. If you’ve been nervous about taking yourself somewhere alone, I hope this gives you a nudge.

Food, always food

If you know me, you know I’m passionate about food. Real food, made from good ingredients, that nourishes body and soul. That passion lives over at Real Food Cook, where I share recipes and ideas for cooking well without making it complicated.

Food has been my anchor through all of this. During the caring years, cooking was one way I could show love when there wasn’t much else I could do. Now I’m learning that cooking for one isn’t sad at all. It’s an investment in myself. And when I travel, food is usually the reason I pick a destination.

A few other things about me

  • I love libraries and books. Ian was a writer, and his novel Journey of Leaves is one of the things I’m proudest of him for.
  • I have a garden Ian designed and built for me so I wouldn’t have to work too hard in it. His parting instruction was to keep on top of the weeds. I’m doing my best.
  • I’ve learned I’m a lot more resilient than I ever gave myself credit for. I don’t always feel capable and purposeful, but I keep showing up, and some days that’s enough.

Pull up a chair

This blog won’t be polished or perfect. It will be honest, and it will be me, showing up one day at a time.

Thank you for being here. Put the kettle on and stay a while. ☕

Michelle