Dads Don't Cry

In Episode 17 of Dads Don’t Cry, host Peter sits down with Elaine to share the story of her daughter, Willow - a story that begins with hope and love, and unfolds into unimaginable heartbreak.

Elaine speaks openly about Willow’s earliest days and the quiet, persistent instinct that something wasn’t right. Reassured it was “first-time mother syndrome,” she tried to trust the professionals. Willow was diagnosed with silent reflux - but deep down, Elaine’s worry never left.

What was meant to be a family trip to Tenerife became a medical emergency. In a hospital far from home, Elaine and her partner Ross were given devastating news: their baby girl had a tumour. Soon after came the words no parent should ever hear - Stage 4 cancer.

In this raw and powerful conversation, Elaine shares what it meant to fight for Willow, and then, heartbreakingly, what it meant to shift from fighting to comforting. She speaks about grief, maternal instinct, anger, faith, and the sacred tenderness of Willow’s final days.

She also reflects on life after loss - the anxiety and sleepless nights, carrying Willow’s ashes, mourning the milestones that will never come, and finding connection with other bereaved parents who truly understand.

Above all, this episode is a tribute to Willow, a little girl whose life, though heartbreakingly short, continues to guide her family every day.

This week, we’re doing something different.
While Dads Don’t Cry usually explores the impact of losing a child, this episode gently turns the lens the other way, asking what it means to lose a parent, especially as a young adult.
Old enough to understand the weight of what’s gone…
But often still young enough to feel completely unanchored without them.
In this deeply personal conversation, Donna joins us to speak about her dad, Paddy. We explore the unique shape of parental loss, anticipatory grief, addiction, dementia, nursing home care, funeral arrangements, and the sudden shift of becoming “the strong one.”
We talk about mental health crises, signs and symbolism, tattoos and memorials, and the long road of grief eight years on.
We also gently acknowledge something that can be difficult to say out loud: losing a child and losing a parent are not the same. Both are devastating, but they shape us in different ways. And understanding those differences matters if we truly want to support one another.
This is a one-off episode - something I wanted to try. And depending on the feedback, it might become something we revisit every 10/15 episodes.
A space to open a different conversation about grief, identity, responsibility, and how loss shapes the kind of person you become.
Grief doesn’t follow a rulebook.
And it doesn’t only show up in one form.
If this conversation resonates, you can reach me here on Instagram @dadsdontcrypodcast or by email at [email protected]

In this deeply vulnerable conversation, Caroline shares the beautiful life and radiant personality of her daughter, Indie Mai, a joyful, loving child who touched everyone around her. She reflects on Indie’s final weekend, the heartbreaking moment everything changed, and the desperate efforts to save her.

Caroline speaks openly about the reality of child loss and suicide, the shock, the unanswered questions, and the silent weight of guilt so many grieving parents carry. She shares her experience of the hospital, bringing Indie home, and how the loss profoundly affected their entire family.

As both a mother and a nurse, Caroline also opens up about navigating grief and how support from community groups and the HUGG charity became a lifeline during the darkest days.

By honoring Indie with a remembrance 3K run for what would have been her 13th birthday this March, finding comfort in signs, and holding onto hope, Caroline reflects on enduring love, resilience, and the strength it takes to keep going.

On this episode of Dads Don’t Cry, Peter is joined by Izzy’s mam, Lauren, during a week that should have been filled with joy celebrating Izzy’s second birthday. Instead, Lauren bravely shares the unimaginable story of losing her daughter.

Together, they walk through the frantic attempts to save Izzy, and the devastating moments that followed - from the ambulance ride to the hospital, to hearing the words no parent should ever have to hear. Lauren opens up about navigating post-mortem decisions, explaining Izzy’s death to her siblings, and the heartbreaking choices around her funeral and cremation.

The conversation also explores the raw reality of grief: the trauma, the isolation, the suicidal thoughts, and the vital role of mental health support and healing during Lauren’s time in a psychiatric ward. Lauren reflects on receiving Izzy’s SIDS diagnosis, the intensified pain that comes with the second year of loss, and how grief continues to evolve.

At its heart, this episode is about love, remembrance, and legacy. Through cherished memories and honest reflection, Lauren keeps Izzy’s spirit alive, showing that even in the deepest sorrow, a child’s impact never fades.

In this deeply moving episode of Dads Don’t Cry, Peter sits down with Kim to honour the life and loss of her daughter, Penelope—a bright, unapologetically herself child who filled every room with her spirit. Kim tenderly introduces us to Penelope, sharing who she was beyond the tragedy, before recounting the sudden phone call in September 2025 that shattered her world. What began as an ordinary moment became the unthinkable truth no parent is ever prepared to face: Penelope was gone.

Together, Peter and Kim walk through the raw terrain of grief, returning home to a world that keeps moving while yours has stopped, the isolation of carrying invisible trauma, and the shock of learning that Penelope’s death was caused by an undiagnosed intestinal malrotation and volvulus.

Four months on, Kim reflects on how her family is surviving the unimaginable, how grief reshapes everything, and how love, memory, and hope quietly coexist with pain.

This episode is a gentle, honest space for tears, remembrance, and the reminder that even in the darkest moments, no parent has to grieve alone.