‘The Men At The Golf Club Stepped Up, But Some Women Didn't' - When Grief Brings Out True Colours

Losing someone very close to you is a hugely traumatic yet inevitable event in all of our lives. It can throw us into an abyss of sadness that sometimes it’s hard to crawl out of. Distraction is essential.

I know that when I lost my son to cancer back in 2016 I was a little worried about playing golf because there was a lot of time on the golf course to think, but in fact getting back out there was one of the best things I ever did.

However, it wasn’t the game I used to play. Golf for me had changed. Not for any physical reasons, but I just needed something else from golf following Teddy‘s death.

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I needed headspace, the chance to switch off, the chance to be distracted by every single shot. That’s why I went back to coaching six months after, I was distracted by everyone else’s golf and that’s the joy of the game.

I can focus wholeheartedly for one hour in a lesson on helping someone enjoy the game more, but it isn’t just about fixing faults. I found myself using golf as a tool to help with pupils' lives, a tool to switch off. Getting to the core of the person standing in front of me helped me help them quicker.

For a group of women I coach, losing their husbands has rocked their worlds, but they found golf to be an incredible tonic. It is a distraction, a form of forgetting while they are out on the course.

Jenny Duggal, a member of Salisbury in South Wilts, says she dreads long car journeys and walks, but couldn’t be without her beloved golf.

“On a long car journey I ruminate, there is just too much time to think.” Jenny lost her husband Kush a year ago and is still, and will be for a long time, in an extremely painful place emotionally.

Jenny came to me for a playing lesson two months after Kush died and those few holes we played were magical. She played an absolute blinder. It was almost as if her Kush was with us in the air and I’m a huge believer of that. It’s a massive comfort to think that someone that we love so much is dancing around the golf course above us.

“Golf is an enormous distraction. It’s time when I can forget and put all the pain aside. My golf and other people’s golf distracts me. The longer I’m out there the better. Each time you go out there’s a new challenge, a new lesson to be learnt. It has always been like that for me and it is even more so now of huge benefit. Give me singles matchplay, I’m entirely focused with this intense concentration for a long period of time. That’s what I need,” says Jenny.

Until you’ve been through grief, understanding it isn’t easy. You have to learn to be kind to yourself and accept there are days when your grief weighs you down so much that even golf is a struggle rather than an escape.

Kjersti Cannon is Lady Captain at The Caversham and her husband Peter passed away 2 years ago. She likes to keep busy and accepted the position of vice-captain thinking it would be the perfect distraction. It has been just that.

“I play golf now for the laughs, to make a difference and change the game for the better, but I had a game recently where I felt my grief just weighed me down. Golf was too much for the way I felt. It was one of those days.”

Accepting those days and letting grief wash over you is so important, simply allowing yourself to have a day where you don’t want to see anybody is essential.

Managing our expectations on the golf course on days like this is also extremely important. Use your time to focus on your playing partners and enjoy the walk, don’t stress about the score.

What happens when your partner is your companion on the course, at home and on holiday. Does golf become a painful memory? Cathy Jones lost her husband not to death but to dementia. She is his full-time carer and golf is her respite.

“Golf has always been an important part of our lives together, from both joining a golf club, taking part in club activities to wonderful holidays playing golf around the world,” says Cathy.

When Alzheimer's takes hold, all of that comes to an end. Slowly at first, but as time progresses, bit by bit, those pastimes are lost.

For the person suffering with Alzheimer’s, they forget what they used to do three times a week, but for the person caring, they sadly miss those times so much.

“As a carer I’m determined to continue with golf for as long as I possibly can. I now rely on the understanding of my golfing friends that tee times might need to be adjusted to allow me to settle him before golf.

“The overwhelming feeling of guilt every time I go out will not go away. However, I know for my own sanity and health I need to do this and am encouraged to do this by club members. They are my respite and I am very thankful that I have golf as a hobby,” says Cathy.

As a golf club member, not only do you already play a game that is for life, you make lifelong friends who support and will be there through thick and thin.

Brigitte Lockwood is a member at Strawberry Fields Golf Club. Her husband Peter died suddenly earlier this year. Golf is helping her fill the emptiness and as a distraction she’s organising a big charity day to raise money for the British Heart Foundation in his memory.

“Yes there is sadness but I can still follow a path to happiness,” she says. “The support I receive from my golfing friends and the Women’s Golf Lounge Facebook community is like a thousand pairs of arms wrapping around me. It keeps you wanting to carry on with everyday life despite the sadness encountered at home.”

However, grief often brings out the true colour of people and not always in a good way. I know numerous women who were shocked when those women they assumed would be a cement post, to prop them up through their loss, weren’t there for them.

When once they were included in plans, golf holidays and social gatherings, they were cut out and some even planned social events with others while sitting alongside the person in question.

Why anyone would give a heart a kick when it’s already broken into a thousand pieces is a mystery to me. Some use the theory that often people don’t know what to say, but it’s always better to say something than nothing, and definitely never assume that the person doesn’t want to be included. You might say the wrong thing, but that’s ok, just say something to be a support in some capacity.

Kjersti Cannon found that when her husband Peter died, it was the men at the club, including The Caversham’s manager Gary Stangoe, who stepped up and offered support. Similarly, Brigitte and Jenny found the strongest support was from their husband’s golfing friends.

“Men seem to not think about saying the wrong things so much, knowing that person needs acknowledging and perhaps a hugely needed hug. I found hugs were a wonderful tonic, sometimes they produced tears but those were always better out than in,” says Jenny.

Perspective is a side gift that grief gives us. If I was to take something positive from losing my son it would be the same thing these women have taken from losing their partners.

We have had our eyes open to life, to what is truly important and to how we treat people. We have a zero tolerance to people who decide to do us injustices and to any petty matters that arise. Our outlooks have been changed and I’d say that life itself has been thrown into sharp focus. We know who the important people are and disregard anyone who isn’t worth our energy.

We swear more, we cry more, we empathise more, but my goodness do we live more than we ever did before. Soaking up that view from the top of the golf course and playing the kind of golf that gives you joy, not the kind you think you should be playing.

Being let down by friends that you thought would be there is a massive shock to the system. But I often wonder if it's a cycle that happens. We decide that actually we don’t want those people in our lives. We have no need to waste any extra time on those who can’t be bothered to step up and be there for us.

Those people you expected nothing from yet in fact give you their all. I believe those people that come out of nowhere like your fairy godmothers have often been through something similar on one level or another. They are your people, your tribe and it’s only these huge bumps in the road of our lives that mean they are suddenly thrust in front of you.

So if you’re reading this and think of a friend, or in fact anyone at your golf club who has lost someone recently, please reach out. Check in on them, ask if they need anything and offer them a game.