1. Thanks Sam. Grief is overwhelming isn’t it. You own it, people try to help, they mean well but then you end up not wanting them to feel bad, or awkward. So you change the subject, make small talk. Pretend. You grieve in private. Every emotion coming in waves. Time heals they say…..: it softens that’s for sure, but it’s always there. True it’s not the unforgiving unwavering stabbing, but now it’s the dull, aching continuous thud that’s just there. Life is now in two parts. Life before and life after. The pain however is weirdly comforting as that physical ache is mine and reminds me always that they’re with me.
    My brother Oliver. Died by suicide age 19

  2. I pride myself on my ability to get stuff done. Cut to the chase and just get on with it. I’m really good at it, well I was and now I am not. The world has tipped and I feel like I am sliding off, holding onto life and some degree of functionality by my fingertips. But if I allow myself that moment, to remember her. and to let my thoughts wander to her face, her touch, her presence, I remember so acutely how it was, when we were all together, and now we are not, and I cannot be myself, and I cannot get on, and get stuff done. And I hate feeling that getting stuff done is my only place to go to survive this. If I give myself permission then I cant control what might follow. So here I am trying to “get on” whilst thinking about my daughter Ellie, who died after a road traffic accident. Aged 11.

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