'I was drowning in grief when my daughter died. Four weeks later, I got a phone call.'

I'm not a stranger to grief. It has woven its way through my life and at times I have tried to outrun its clutches.

But I will always remember how grief nearly killed me.

What saved me wasn't just travel or TV. It was my belief that I have to live what is lost.

I'm like that in life, a true Libran, always seeking balance. So although grief and loss are things I fear, they have propelled me forward into creating light and love from the darkest parts.

I thought watching my mother-in-law die would be the hardest thing we would deal with in 2023. It was barely a couple of weeks before Mother's Day when we said goodbye.

Image: Supplied.

The matriarch of the family, the one who would dress up and play with the kids, the one who made us have costumes for dinners and make hats for Cup Day.

But after a long battle with cancer and a never-ending lockdown, she was tired and finally at rest.

Little did I know that day would be the most space we would have to recover from grief that year.

Flash forward three weeks later.

It was Mother's Day weekend and it was time to spoil my mum with an incredible weekend with a luxury hotel stay with my sister. We booked a Greek chef and had a great day with a swim, lunch, shopping and laughter.

It was the last time I was ever the version of who I was again.

It was my husband who called me with the news. The news that would shake my world, devastate my entire being.

"They had found her," he said.

I laughed my reply, "where was she?"

A pause, an almost panic. "No," he whispered, "they found her."

My daughter. Twenty-four years old. Gone. My Kaitlin.

Image: Supplied.

I would love to tell you how I got home, but I only remember a visceral scream from my body over and over again. My panicked mother grabbing the phone and my screams continuing, the beats of her hands across the walls screaming for my sister in the next room to come.

My mum running out of the room to get her whilst my husband hurried to get me.

An instant, one phone call and your life changes. It wasn't a good call. Why isn't it ever a good phone call like "hey, you won a million dollars" or "hey, you just got cast in a musical"? It's always the instant. The one that we never prepare for.

The next morning, my friend Craig and his wife Phillipa came over to be with me.

They, along with my family, friends and my best friend Jo, were the first to be with me that morning. They rallied around me and gave me open arms, space to cry and space to laugh. 

Craig, who I had been so close with since I was just 13 — for over 34 years, a solid friendship and holidays together— he and I just understood one another.

Both very serious about the work we did but also capable of giving me some of the biggest belly laughs of my life. That morning, he came early with Phillipa in tow, bringing bunches of flowers, food and hugs.

We spent the day talking about life and death and how I would love him to run my daughter's funeral and speak for us. 

Watch: Elizabeth Gilbert on grief. Post continues after video.

Craig was honoured and I knew he would give Kaitlin a beautiful send-off. He knew all her history of mental health issues and struggles.

The days were hard. I kept expecting her to call, but it was in that week leading to her funeral that was brightened up by Craig, who would call me to say the most random idiotic things.

"Hey love, how do you think Aladdin would ride that carpet?" Or singing Beauty and the Beast. Anything to make me laugh.

The morning of the funeral, I woke up at approximately 6.50am to the florist calling about the flowers for the funeral. They couldn't find white roses and wanted to know, "did I mind if they used red?"

I literally saw red, I tell you. I said "I'm not having red roses at my daughter's funeral"— it just didn't feel appropriate.

At the same time, I kept getting missed calls and my frustration just kept growing.

Finally, I was able to answer. It was Renee, Craig's daughter. She said, "Dad's gone."

Again, "huh, what, where has he gone?"

I'm ashamed to say it almost took me a millisecond to realise what she meant and then I just kept saying to her, "what is going on?"

Image: Supplied.

It was hard.

The day of my daughter's funeral mourning her, and a week later I was speaking at his funeral.

In four weeks, three funerals. Three people that were close. My daughter, of course, the most heartbreaking. It felt surreal. It wasn't my life. It just seemed we were cursed.

But I believe my decisions after this happened almost realigned and put into focus what I wanted it to mean for me.

I decided.

I decided to stop choosing — and yes, it is a choice — to refuse to heal, or if I would sit and let grief swallow me and affect my children for the rest of their lives. I decided that no matter what the day was, I would do one thing, one thing that got me moving and out of the house. 

As a result, I lost 25 kilos. I decided my sons would not grow up with a mother that is overprotective or emotionally unavailable and that I would continue to give them fun, travel and what they needed from me.

I decided I had only ever had two passions in my life; one was travel and the other was performing.

I decided I wanted to be doing something to help others, so I set up my company, Travelglobe, to help independent travel agents have a supportive family environment for them to run their businesses in. I was blessed with women who believed in what I was doing. 

I wanted to really support women to run their own travel business and give them purpose, I decided I wanted to get back into television and believe in myself to bring my two passions together, and I honestly believe my daughter brought me a little luck with Craig, two angels in my corner. 

I decided each day was a choice and that Kaitlin had no more days left but I had many, and that the life she could not lead I would try my very best to make her proud of. And no, not living the life she lost, but living the life she gave me.

Listen to this episode of Mamamia Out Loud. Post continues after podcast.

My husband Michael and I had made a pact on the night that Kaitlin died. We said that no matter what, with a son in his last year of VCE and another in Year 10 and my disabled son living out of home, that not one day would be spent in bed. Not one day would be spent not showing them you have to get up and keep moving.

Life is incredibly cruel. It isn't fair, it isn't just and sometimes it is more painful than being here. 

There were moments I didn't want to go on and moments I would have liked to have died instead. But then, in all the balance of the universe, I wouldn't have seen so many sunsets with my loved ones, I wouldn't have built this business I have and I would never have found the confidence to go back on TV screens for Travel Oz. 

I would never have explored the world with the talented Kirsten Tibballs and the genius chef and friend Anna Polyviou. I would not have travelled this incredible globe that brings me light and joy even when the skies darken. 

Every day I am propelled forward by my resilience and belief that every good thing that comes my way has had an angel behind it, who is in my mind every single day and who makes me strive to live for her, not die for her.

And I decided.

I decided that I can share this story without pity. I don't need it. I have always believed the hardest lessons are for the most apt pupils and I must be ready to graduate by now.

Feature Image: Supplied.

If you or anyone you know needs to speak with an expert, please contact your GP or in Australia, contact Lifeline (13 11 14), Kids Helpline (1800 55 1800) or Beyond Blue (1300 22 4636), all of which provide trained counsellors you can talk with 24/7.

If you have been bereaved or impacted by suicide loss at any stage in your life, StandBy is a free service you can access on 1300 727 247.

Irene Jones is a TV host on Channel 7's Travel Oz and the founder of Travelglobe, a travel company built to empower women to run their own businesses without burning out. After losing her daughter at 24, Irene rebuilt her life and career with purpose — choosing to live louder, not smaller. She now shares her story of resilience, parenting through grief, and finding joy again through travel, tv and writing.