"A common comment from widows is that they feel like they are going mad, simply because nothing makes sense any more. They're trying to find a new normal and this is often aggravated by friends or family telling them they are still young and can find someone new. But they don't want that – at this stage, they want their old life back." In many cases, young children are also involved, forcing widows to push their own grief aside in order to help their children navigate a range of complex emotions. "You still need to function as a parent when all you want to do is crawl into a ball and lock out the world while you grieve," Tainui says. "It's crucial to understand that there is no normal when it comes to the grieving process – the only normal that matters is your own. Be kind to yourself and do what works for you. It may take some time to find out what that is." LISA KING Tasmania

Aaron and Lisa King. "You hear people say that they are best friends with their partner, but we really were," says Lisa, now 46, who met her late husband Aaron in 1994 through mutual friends. Both teachers, the pair had dreams to start a family and travel the world. But they were forced to put their travel dreams on hold when their second son, Noah, was born with a severe disability. They went on to have two more boys, and vowed to make the most of every moment spent together. But in 2011, 10-year-old Noah died, and just three months later, Lisa also lost her husband. He was 39. "We were on holiday on the east coast of Tasmania," she says. "We went there every summer as a family and this was our first time without Noah."

On the second night, Aaron suffered a massive heart attack and died in front of Lisa and two of their children. Though she had always imagined grief to involve sobbing day and night, she instead simply felt numb. "I remember just doing everyday things, but the only thing going on in my head was 'Aaron is dead'. It felt so strange that the world was going on around me like normal, but my life was falling apart." While Lisa longed for time to grieve, other matters demanded her attention. "I went into a panic about how I was going to survive without him – not only physically and emotionally, but financially," she says. "I hadn't done any paid work for 14 years, and suddenly our only income was gone. "One of the hardest things was having to help my boys through their own grief while grieving myself. They were 12, seven and three when Aaron died, and all had different challenges with grief."

Lisa sought professional help for herself and her boys and the family also relocated to Tasmania permanently. "I decided we needed to have things to look forward to, so I planned special holidays. We visited the graves a lot and sometimes we would cry. "Other times we would have a picnic or the boys would play there, and we would have a laugh together. We still miss Aaron and Noah every day but when we talk about them now, we aren't overwhelmed with sadness." Back in the workforce, Lisa has found a career she loves – teaching English as an additional language to children from refugee backgrounds. "I have had some terrible things happen in my life, but there is always someone worse off than you," she says. "I think that by focusing on the good things in my life, it has helped me to find joy again." However, she doesn't see a new partner in her future. "It has been hard to explain that to people because I know they think getting remarried will help. Nothing could ever match the relationship Aaron and I had. Though I'm lonely, I'm only lonely for him.

"I feel I have moved on in many different ways … by caring for our boys on my own, by going back to work, by learning how to fix things, by moving house, by getting a dog, by just getting out of bed every day. "Moving on doesn't mean I need to be remarried." DEB RAE Queensland Deb and Stuart Rae. Opposites attracted for Deb and Stuart Rae when they met during their last year of high school – he was loud and extroverted, she was more subdued – and five years later they were married.

After finding out at 34 that Deb couldn't have children, the couple embarked on a global travel adventure, teaching English. After a few months in Poland, Stuart, 36, went on a rare night out with friends, the first time the pair had been apart since their arrival. "I told him to enjoy himself, not to rush home and we kissed goodbye," says Deb, now 49. "They were the last words we said to each other." That night in late 2003, Stuart was hit and killed by a car on a pedestrian crossing. Though she was in shock, Deb had to focus on the immediate tasks. "I had to get Polish death certificates, deal with the police, engage a solicitor, work out how to get Stu's body back to Mackay at Christmas time and start arranging a funeral. I thought all I needed to do was to survive until the funeral then I'd start rebuilding my own life, but I was so wrong." For months after her husband's funeral, Deb says she simply existed. "I had to think about what to do with potentially another 40 years of life by myself. People had expectations of my meeting someone else, but that just seemed abhorrent, like adultery."

Deb had to learn how to take over chores Stuart used to do that she "absolutely hated", like cooking, fixing leaky taps and doing tax returns. "I felt people expected me to stop grieving in a time frame. I couldn't see how my grief would ever end, and I didn't want it to – it was the final connection I had to Stuart." Connecting with other young widows was the turning point. She wrote Stuart letters, went back to university and penned a book about dealing with grief. Twelve years later, she now knows how to turn grief into gratitude. "We had a fabulous life and that can never be taken away," she says. "I've remarried but that doesn't mean Stu is 'banished' from my life. My husband recognises that my past with Stu made me who I am today." JO LANGFORD

Queensland Jo Langford with her children (from left) Drew, Cohen and Brock. There was nothing out of the ordinary when Jo Langford left her husband David at home while she collected their three children from school. When they arrived home an hour later, David was dead. He was 40. Jo administered CPR until the paramedics arrived, but she knew it was too late. "The shock of losing your partner suddenly is something I find difficult to explain. I didn't sleep for more than two hours a night and ate nothing for weeks after, losing more than 20 kilograms in that first month." Having young children helped her navigate through the initial shock. "My children were my reason for getting out of bed in those early days. I think if I didn't have them I would have done nothing," she says. "I decided early on that we weren't going to be victims, we were going to be survivors and this loss was not going to define us."

Channelling her grief into something positive enabled Jo to move on with her life, and spending time with others who had experienced similar grief helped. "I decided we were going to live life to the full. I didn't know what that was going to look like but I knew I had to make something good come out of something so tragic." She met up with a group of other young women and men from the Young Widows and Widowers support group in Brisbane, and drew so much strength from her first meeting that she knew she would be able to survive. She describes her life now as chaotic but full of joy. "A psychologist told me early on to look for the gifts in losing my husband. At the time I thought I could never find a gift in something so tragic, but now I see many. "We have become even closer as a family, and I have a paid job as co-ordinator for the Young Widows support group. "There is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my husband, but when I think of him it is not with intense sadness, but with beautiful memories of our time together."

Jo, now 49, says it's important that widows grieve at their own pace. "It's OK to get out of bed only for your children in the beginning, but one day you will want to get out of bed for yourself." MARIA CARR, AISLING PONT ​NSW Maria and Dan Carr. Maria Carr was 12 weeks pregnant when her husband Dan died suddenly at the aged of 35. "We had just informed our families about the baby the weekend before he died," says Maria, now 45. Dan was driving to work when he suffered a seizure. He was put into an induced coma.

Tests showed that he had a blocked artery in his neck, which had caused a stroke. Two days later, he was pronounced clinically brain dead. "I was on an emotional roller-coaster the day he died, which would last for a long time. I was booked in for my 12-week baby scan, which showed that the baby was OK. "I was happy to hear this but devastated knowing my husband's life support was going to be switched off and he would never see or hold our baby." Following the funeral, Maria spent weeks crying, experiencing denial and anger. After about six weeks, exhaustion took hold. "At this stage I realised it was time to start taking it easy, and focus on my baby. I would control my grief, allow myself to feel the emotions but not allow myself to go into a dark place. This baby was all I had left of Dan." Becoming a young and pregnant widow left her feeling both vulnerable and on display.

"People were afraid to talk to me about Dan, thinking that I would break down and cry. In the early days I would put on a brave mask, keeping my grief and emotions to myself and releasing them when I was alone." After about 12 months, Maria decided she needed to put more effort into self-care, both for herself and her son. She joined the support group, Ever After Widowed, run by Aisling Pont, who had lost her husband Nick at about the same time. He was also 35. The pair forged a strong friendship and launched a website for the support group (everafterwidowed.com.au). It has a forum where people can post relevant topics, discuss their feelings and exchange information in a safe, confidential environment. They've also written a book, Forever Loved. "I knew I needed to speak to other people who had gone through the same experience," says Aisling, now 46, whose husband died unexpectedly of heart complications. "In the beginning, it was impossible for us to imagine ever being happy again or to believe anything good could ever come from our husband's deaths.

"We both made a conscious decision in the early days knowing that this experience can leave you to spend a lifetime of being angry and bitter or you can choose to work towards an environment of acceptance and healing. We will never 'get over' our husbands' deaths but we have learnt to accept and live with our loss. Our husbands' lives ended far too soon, so the best tribute we can make them is to live full and happy lives for us and our children." Nick and Aisling Pont. For more information visit youngwidows.info.