‘I’m in awe’: Megan and Murray were both widowed with two kids – now they’re a family

Megan Daley, 47, a teacher, librarian and writer, and commercial beekeeper Murray Arkadieff, 46, met not long after they’d both been widowed. She had two little girls, he had two little boys.

Megan Daley and Murray Arkadieff at their home west of Brisbane. “It felt good to talk; I’d felt so alone. The only widows I knew were in their 80s,” says Daley.Credit: Paul Harris

Megan: My husband, Dan, died of a heart attack in April 2017. He was 40; we’d been together since we were 18. Ava was nine, Georgia five. I met Murray at a 40th in mid-2019. He was with some beekeepers and I gravitated towards them. I’ve always loved bees; my grandfather had kept bees and I’d studied beekeeping at school. And I’d grown up loving Winnie The Pooh.

We got talking and when we discovered we were both widowed, we discussed how relentless the whole solo-parenting thing was [Sam and Jimmy were five and three]. It felt good to talk; I’d felt so alone. The only widows I knew were in their 80s.

We met again at a dinner party six months later. I’m an extrovert and used to getting attention, but everyone was more ­interested in his funny beekeeping stories. I thought, “This isn’t how it usually goes.” We started sparring, matching each other with silly work stories. Then we went to a nightclub.

‘It’s a privilege to parent someone else’s children; loving them is part of loving Murray.’

Megan Daley

At first, I wanted to be close to someone who’d had the same experience as me. We wanted our kids to meet, too, so they’d know other kids who’d lost a parent. We knew that whether we were going to be friends or something more, the kids had to be involved. One weekend, we met in the park with all four kids. Murray bought them all ice creams and they had fun. I hadn’t laughed so much in years. We talked for hours – about grief, books, gardening, politics and bees. I had a sense that I’d met a like-minded soul.

I’d promised my girls I wouldn’t re-partner so when Murray and I started dating, Ava was angry. Murray said to her, “Hey, I’m not trying to be your dad; you had a wonderful dad. I just want to be a good grown-up in your life. And I really like your mum.” Now he calls them “his girls” and tells them he loves them like a dad, but he knows that he’s not their dad. I deeply appreciate that.

I connected with Sam and Jimmy by reading to them at bedtime – first, by sitting beside them, then lying in bed with them. Books are a gateway to conversation and I grew to love them as we talked about stories and laughed together. It’s a privilege to parent someone else’s children; loving them is part of loving Murray.

He’s a more relaxed parent than me – he lets the kids snack after dinner and buys them junk food. I’m like, “Has everyone had an apple today?” He’s taught me to lean into the fun. He parents teens better than I do and has all the big conversations with the girls about gender, drugs and alcohol, and relationships. He goes deep, breaks down barriers.

We built a house in Oxley [in Brisbane] and moved in in April. There are photos of Dan and Helen [Murray’s late wife] everywhere and the girls use Helen’s sewing machine. We talk about them a lot and allow each other to grieve. It’s OK to miss them.

Murray proposed in March; now my friends are sending me pictures of bee-themed bridesmaid dresses. Finding love again has been a complete surprise. Murray has added enormous value to my life and also to my girls’ lives. He just has this endless capacity to love.

Megan and Murray with (from left) Ava, James, Sam and Georgia.Credit: Courtesy of Megan Daley

Murray: Helen died suddenly in January 2019 when we were in the UK. We think she had a cardiac episode, fell down some stairs and hit her head. She was 37.

I met Megan on one of my first nights out by myself. I thought she was cute, with a lot of ­personality and energy, and I enjoyed talking to her. We met again at a dinner party a few months later. I was intrigued by her: she was witty and loud like me, with pink hair – a punk librarian.

In early 2020, I went to her place for dinner and the first thing I noticed was pictures of bees everywhere. We talked non-stop – about bees, pollination, native plants, grief and solo-parenting. Then her staffie, Tyson, ran away and a man rang to say he had him. I hopped in my car to go collect him and backed my car straight into her retaining wall. All the neighbours came out to have a look. We rescued Tyson, then went out for a drink.

We were two people whose worlds had been smashed into a thousand pieces. To be toge­ther, we had to reassemble them. I invested ­everything I had in our relationship because I believed in her and our kids.

‘Re-partnering as a widower with kids takes endurance. It doesn’t all come together overnight.’

Murray Arkadieff

I love Megan’s energy and creativity. She writes kids’ books, she has a podcast and she loves nature and gardening. And she does it all so efficiently. She even makes me lunch – not sandwiches but, like, chicken curry. I sit there in the bush, thinking about her and what she does for us. Her commitment to my boys is unwavering – whether it’s setting boundaries or preparing awesome food for their birthday parties. I’m in awe of her steadfastness: “Jimmy, you do not get screen time now because you haven’t done your cello practice. I know Dad has given up under your relentless pestering, but it’s not happening.” I tell the boys that helping them to be their best selves like this is pure love.

I love her girls. From the moment I met her, Georgia was funny and confident, organising “Jimmy school” to help him with his reading and writing. Ava and I have an unspoken connection; she can help me in the [honey] extraction shed for hours without talking, but other times we talk a lot. I love being a part of their lives.

Megan and I give each other plenty of space to grieve and to remember Dan and Helen. When we disagree, it’s usually about raising the children – she’s tougher, I’m more lenient – but we’ve learnt to talk through issues patiently and with respect, and to present a united front to the kids. Repartnering as a widower with kids takes endurance: the kids are vulnerable and traumatised. It doesn’t all come together overnight, but it’s 100 per cent worth it.

When Megan and I look at each other, I feel complete love. After Helen died, I was so determined to be a good father and a good man. I hope I will be good enough for Megan; I adore her.

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