Mary Tierney on coping with the death of her husband, former Munster scrum-half Tom

For the second year in a row, Mary will spend the holidays without the love of her life, her late husband and former Munster and Ireland scrum-half, Tom Tierney. At the age of 46, he suddenly passed away in February 2023, leaving behind his loving wife and their two daughters, Isabel and Julia. 

Nine days after his passing, Mary also lost her dad. Through her grief, she has been sharing her experience on Instagram, a platform which has brought her comfort — and on which she remembers moments shared with her late husband.

After spending 26 years with Tom, she makes sure to remember him every day. “He was our whole lives, he's a massive part of my life. 26 years with someone… For it to just end in an instant, you have to honour that and not just shut it down,” she says.

Even though her husband never really “bought into the idea” of Christmas, the family’s day in Bunratty Castle was his favourite at this time of the year.

“We held that tradition with our girls for 12 years, not making it to the unlucky for some 13. We would stroll around the park, me in my element with my mulled wine and Tom with his minced pies before heading to see Santa, who always took time to chat with the girls and shock them by knowing so much about them,” Mary fondly recalls.

At the age of 17, Mary first met Tom, 22, the old fashioned way — thanks to her parents.

“He was playing rugby with a club my dad always supported, they knew Tom through circles. He would've been friendly with people who drank in my dad's pub. My mom said 'I have a lovely daughter, you’d get along' and he was like, 'alright'.

“One night, he was in the bar and I walked in and we said 'hi'. A week later, we ran into each other again. He followed me down to Doc’s nightclub. It was 1990, I had to write my parents landline phone number on his hand. He phoned me the next day, that was it then,” she recalls.

They clicked straight away. Mary remembers calling up to her late husband’s house for the first time and finding him watching telly with a pair of “Coronation Street” glasses.

“He was this cool 22-year-old rugby player but wearing these rimmed glasses that were held together with masking tape on the sides and not giving a shit,” she laughs. 

“We definitely got on with each other because of our sense of humour. I was drawn to him because of how easy-going and kind he was and not full of himself, because he could have been very full of himself back in that time.” 

The pair were only together for about six months when the Munster player was capped for Ireland. “It was all very extravagant. We were always together. 

"I went on my J1 (student visa) in 2002, that was the only time where we were apart, where he moved over for a year while I was still doing my degree. 

"I followed him once I graduated and we lived together in Leicester for two years. Our time there was the best, we made the best friends.” 

After getting married in 2008, the Limerick natives moved to Tipperary where Mary still lives with their girls. On a daily basis, she makes sure to include Tom in their conversations and loves talking about him.

“I’d hate for someone with that much of a personality to just be someone's memory. I like to keep those memories and I think the best way to do that is by talking about him, it's something I did right away with the girls,” she says.

“If we're having dinner, I'd say, ‘Oh what way did dad make it?’ We’ve done that in the way that the kids are so comfortable just bringing him up in conversation.” 

Mary wants her daughters to remember their dad with their own memories — and not just by looking at a picture. From the way he wrapped their Christmas presents in tinfoil to the constantly repeated jokes, these are the things she notes “make him real”.

“Tom grew up without his dad and his mom talked about him, but he always said he didn't know enough about him. He had his own memories of him, but they were all somebody else's memories. So it's nice for my girls to make sure that the memories they have, they'll keep.” 

Mary believes that by talking about Tom and the things he used to do, he is still part of their life. She can still see his sense of humour in her eldest’s quick wit, and his facial expressions in her youngest.

“I'll say it to them and they're like, ‘Oh really’? They’re both very, very much like him. And that's not created or generated in my mind because he's gone. 

They really are, it's frightening. I went through all the hassle of having them, but they're all him, which is hilarious.

“I just love that my closest family and the girls can still talk about him in that way, like he could literally walk in the door and sit down, have a cup of coffee. That's how alive he still feels to me.” 

Last April, she started sharing snippets of their journey on social media and talking about grief. At the time, this brought her comfort and quickly, people started responding to her posts.

“Before Tom died, I would never in a million years have shared anything like that. It’s a weird thing that I've noticed where people thank you for being so open in your grief journey. When I'm posting something, it's just in a moment, in an emotion that I'm feeling.” 

Sometimes, she even receives stories from people who knew him.

“I love that he's in people's thoughts because he deserves to be. It’s nice that when I talk about him I know that somebody else is thinking of him and that's lovely. So while I'm stepping out of my comfort zone sharing in the way that I'm sharing, it has been very comforting in that sense,” she says.

Mary works with her sister, Sinead O’Brien, for the clothing brand Vacious for which she is the operations manager. She also teaches in Griffith College, but says that teaching does not bring her the joy it used to.

Now, she’s considering taking a break to write her story. Since her husband’s passing, she has filled dozens of journals.

“I just find writing to be a great outlet, it's definitely been my narrative in grief. For some people, it's exercise or running or painting or whatever it is. 

"For me, it's definitely words, so I think now is as good a time as any to just actually commit to it. I've always wanted to write and Tom always knew I wanted to write.” 

According to Mary, the first year of grief was not as difficult as the second. “If I could go back to year one,” she pauses. 

“It sounds bonkers for me to use this word, but I genuinely feel there's an excitement in year one of grief. I think it's adrenaline, where you are just being carried through the year. Now the first days and weeks is a different story, that's just a fog.

“But that whole year, I was never afraid of the firsts. Everyone kept talking to me about the firsts. They've never bothered me. I just tackle them the way I tackle everything else,” she said.

For her, what is hardest is the day to day. “The going to the supermarket to get the groceries and not pick up his favourite red apples, that's way harder than thinking about a birthday,” she says softly. 

“It's the removal of a life that was always part of your daily life. No part of me thought that it was permanent. That sounds like I'm losing my mind, but no part of me thought that it was forever. 

"I was like, I'll get through this, and then it's going to be all over, and I'll be done, like if you're studying for exams. Then, you very quickly realise. Real life sets in and you're expected to do it all over again.” 

At times, she is disinterested about the things that once brought her joy. If there is one message she would share with people who are also going through grief, it is to listen to yourself and not be afraid of change.

“Life’s too short. Tom went to bed, fell asleep and didn't wake up. You can't live recklessly, but you do have to listen to yourself and say, ‘I'm not happy, something needs to change’ and just go for it.

I think the best thing that I would say to somebody would be you've got to be kind to yourself, take time for yourself. Don't try to be everything to everyone.

“If you're willing to talk to somebody, do it sooner rather than later. I started counselling, the biggest thing I got out of it was it felt like an hour with Tom where I just got to sit with him, chat to him and just be with him.” 

As Christmas approaches, she is reminded of one lesson Tom taught her throughout their years together — his patience. Instead of being reactive, he would sit quietly with things and let them sink in before figuring out what to do.

“Tom would just slow me down, centre me. I remember our last Christmas, we'd always do a family lunch. On the last one, I was having a stupid work problem, and I remember being in the bathroom on the phone, trying to fix it. And the three of them were sat at the table.

“We had a lovely Christmas, it’s not like that ruined our Christmas, but my point is that I would get so caught up in what's in front of me and not see the bigger picture. That’s important for the girls now that that's not lost and they're not living in a manic household, because we were yin to yang.”