The tragic death of Dr. Michael Mosley, and the devastating impact it must have had on his widow, Dr. Clare Bailey, has moved the nation.
Rosie Gill-Moss, 42, lost her husband Ben in 2018 in similar circumstances after he went on a day trip with friends.
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Here, the mother-of-three from West Malling, Kent, tells Anna Roberts how she coped and recovered from the trauma.
Reading the news about Dr. Michael Mosley this week, my heart ached for him – knowing he walked bravely for hours in the scorching heat before he died.
But I also felt sorry for his devoted wife, Dr. Clare Bailey, because I also know what it’s like for your husband to disappear and never come home.
My dear, handsome, charismatic, funny and adventurous husband Ben Moss was 42 years old when he disappeared doing what he loved – diving – on March 12, 2018. His body was never found.
The day he died is etched in my mind forever.
“Stay safe, darling,” I shouted as he left our house in Faversham, Kent, at 7.30am.
“I love you,” he replied.
They were the last words we said to each other.
Ben was a keen diver, we both were, having learned while honeymooning in Egypt in 2008, and it was his first trip of the year.
But he was gone for a surprisingly long time, which wasn’t like Ben.
Despite this, I wasn’t particularly worried.
I was a busy mother of three children, so I spent the day feeding, bathing, and playing with them.
At 7:30 pm, I remember hearing a knock on the door and seeing police figures through the glass.
I put the dog in the room before answering.
And then: “Are you Rosie Moss? Ben Moss is missing.”
My legs buckled beneath me. In 30 seconds everything changed.
I imagine it’s similar to what Dr. Bailey went through the last few days, when her husband went missing after going for a walk in the scorching 40C heat on the Greek island of Symi last Wednesday.
Like Clare, I hoped my husband wouldn’t be gone for more than a few hours.
I imagine she has been through confusion, sadness and fear – and still is now.
“He has been at sea for six hours. He’s not alive’
For me, that night and the days and weeks that followed were hell.
I was shocked when the cops revealed he had gone missing after diving about six hours earlier.
I’m told the RNLI and police divers searched for him in vain.
With the children – now fatherless – sleeping upstairs, the police quickly searched my house.
They, more out of procedure than suspicion, asked me simple questions like “where is his passport?” even though it was clear he hadn’t run away. In my haze, it took me ten minutes to find him.
I learned that his two friends said he fell ill on the boat while traveling the four miles from the coast of Dover to the site of the shipwreck they planned to explore, but decided to dive anyway.
Bubbles appeared briefly after he entered the water, but nothing more – and he never emerged again.
I think while he was underwater he vomited on his diving gear and instinctively pulled it out and drowned.
I believe the weight of the dry suit pulled him to the bottom of the ocean and there he rests.
But at the time all I could think was, “He’s missing – we need to look for him.”
For Clare Bailey, I imagine that with each day that passed after her husband disappeared, her hope of finding him alive diminished.
That must have been how Dr. Mosley’s wife felt: desperate for him to be found.
As it was night and the children were small, I sat in my house, which was 30 minutes away from the diving spot.
I frantically made cups of tea for police and coast guards.
I insisted that the police divers return, which they kindly did. But it was the calm explanation of a coast guard at around 11pm that helped me.
“Rosie, my friend drowned under similar circumstances,” he said.
“He has been at sea for six hours. He’s freezing. He’s not alive.
I knew he was right and I’m glad he said that, but I needed to know where his body was. I wanted to know if he was in pain or scared.
For Clare Bailey, I imagine that with each day that passed after her husband disappeared, her hope of finding him alive diminished.
And finally, on Sunday – five days after her disappearance – her body was found in a rocky area of the island, just meters from the safety of a restaurant.
I can relate to what Dr. Mosley’s wife is feeling because I felt it all.
The confusion, the way everything changed in the blink of an eye.
The sheer futility of his death.
Like Dr. Mosley, Ben was adventurous. If Ben had chosen not to dive, he would be alive and I would not be a widow and my children would not have a father.
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But he didn’t know that.
There was no malice in his actions.
Although I knew deep down in those early hours that Ben had died, his body was never found. It would have provided a sense of certainty that there really was no hope, as well as a knowledge of what really happened.
As it stands, I can only speculate. I am pleased that Dr. Mosley’s family will not feel this additional pain – an autopsy showed that he died of natural causes.
Reports suggest he likely sat down to rest and died of heat exhaustion.
The morning after Ben disappeared, divers hunted again, but to no avail. It was becoming clear that he would never return home.
Ben and I met when I was a student at the University of East London and he worked at a flooring company. There was an immediate spark, but we were both in a relationship.
Suffice to say, looking back, I think I loved him immediately.
In 2005 we were together and got married in 2008.
Our three children quickly followed, but they were still very young when he disappeared. Monty was seven, Hector was four, and baby Tabby was just six months old.
I needed to tell them what had happened so frantically. I Googled “how to tell a child their father is dead.”
I knew I had to survive for the sake of the kids
It said not to tell them he was “away” or “missing,” so I used “dead.”
I will never forget seven-year-old Monty’s blood-curdling scream when he heard the news.
It was the worst conversation I’ve ever had.
The next few weeks and months were incredibly difficult. I was no longer Rosie: Wife, but Rosie: Widow. For weeks, my house was so busy it felt like Piccadilly Circus, as kindly well-wishers and police officers came and went, eager to check on me and give me news about my missing and presumed dead husband.
After several months, I stopped trying to guess exactly what had happened and started to accept it.
But beyond the emotional turmoil of becoming a widow, one of the hardest things was having to fight for Ben to be declared dead.
A year after his disappearance, the children and I went to the closest spot to where he was last seen.
We wrote letters, put them in a bottle and threw them into the sea. It seemed symbolic.
But beyond the emotional turmoil of becoming a widow, one of the hardest things was having to fight for Ben to be declared dead. I had to go to the High Court to obtain a Certificate of Presumption of Death, which was finally granted at the end of 2019.
Without it, he would be considered missing, and I would be at risk of losing our home and Ben’s business – he owned a flooring company – going out of business.
Juggling this battle with raising our three young children without Ben, who was a very hands-on father, was very difficult.
Twenty months after her disappearance, an inquest into her death returned an open verdict.
There was very little information, but the evidence suggested he had taken off his mask to get sick and was swept away by the strong current, as we suspected.
As time went on, things got easier, and I’m sure they will for Clare Bailey and her four adult children, Alex, Jack, Dan and Kate.
Now, with each passing year and each milestone – first kiss, first anniversary, first birthday, first Christmas – I can reflect on happy times with Ben.
He was a fun, vibrant and handsome man.
After he died, I didn’t think I could survive – I just knew I needed to survive for the sake of my children.
And I survived. I’m happy and the children are all fine.
I worry about them more than other parents, but I want them to have a normal life and at the same time remember their father.
I think about him every day, but I don’t let it rule my life. And I know he wouldn’t want me either.
He was that kind of man – kind, caring and just wonderful.
- Listen to Rosie’s podcast about grief at wiedaf.com.
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This story originally appeared on The-sun.com read the full story
