Loss of our son aged 27

Dear Michelle, Matt’s grave looks so beautiful and such an amazing tribute to him, your lovely boy. I am sure he looks down on it and is proud of you. I’ll never forget how brave you were during the inquest. I’m not sure I could have coped so well … lots of love to you all :sparkling_heart:

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Dear friend, its true how differently people react. As you say, a complete stranger can offer a shoulder to cry on when our fr.iends don’t know what to say or do.
I remember being in Asda in Aberdeen pushing the trolly round the clothes section. I needed some more clothes but just wanted cheap stuff as I had plenty at home. I was in a state of pure terror as at that point Lisa was still in an induced coma. The shock of seeing her with all the tubes and breathing apparatus was stuck in my head. The tears were rolling down my cheeks as I walked and a lady left her trolley and came over to me. She just put her hand over mine and gently stroked my shoulder with tbe other. She had such compassion in her eyes. It was just for a few seconds and then she went back to her trolly. She could see my pain that’s for sure.

Hope you have a good day with kindness around you.

Love Kate xx

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What a lovely story Kate. :cry: It is those random acts of kindness that I suppose make a difference. I know what you mean about close friends often not knowing what to say. It will be 5 weeks tomorrow since my son Joey died, and although the messages and calls still come, they are much less frequent. People expect me to be coming out from under my mantle of grief, but I can’t. Yesterday a friend texted to ask if my husband and I were out walking in the vineyards again and looking forward to the ski season (I live in Switzerland). And people are afraid to say the wrong thing so they say nothing. But this morning I got ever such a sweet message from a close friend of my son’s. She and her husband were always there for Joey, throughout his long painful cancer journey. I didn’t know them well before, but Audrey texts me every other day - several long messages - just to see how I am and to say they want us to come over whenever we want, for a nice meal. Joey adored their two little boys and they him, but I just can’t muster up the energy to do anything. I feel totally useless.

I can’t even get out of bed! Except for a few doctors visits I’ve been in bed with terrible bronchitis for three weeks now. They say grief increases inflammation and batters the immune system. That’s exactly what happened. It left me totally depleted and wide open to infection. That hasn’t helped the emotional side either. Yet even if I were healthy, no, I’m not looking forward to anything these days. How could I possibly??? All the things I used to love, being in nature, skiing, hiking, travelling. None of it has any interest for me at all.

I don’t always look at the Sue Ryder site. As much as we’re all in an exclusive club and no one needs to explain anything to anyone else about our sorrow, and as much as the feeling of support is genuine, I also find it so very sad! I’m a relative newcomer with my son having died so recently, but there are so many people who were at the stage I’m at now years ago, yet they are still suffering, still haven’t got their lives back. It all seems so depressing, so futile. :cry::cry::cry::broken_heart::broken_heart::broken_heart:

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Hi Kate - Lisa’s mum. I scrolled through some of your posts from when you first joined Sue Ryder, not long after your beloved daughter died. Something you said rang a chord with me - that you missed the worrying and the elation when Lisa had hospital appointments etc. I can so identify with that!

My son’s cancer journey lasted 16 months, ever since June 2021… He had metastatic testicular cancer. He was single at the time and I ferried him about to most of his hospital/doctor appointments. Although the fall of ‘21 after his orchiectomy and subsequent chemo was not so bad, as of January this year he got more and more complications as the cancer stopped reacting to treatment and he needed stronger and stronger chemo and operations. He eventually had an autologous stem cell transplant and was in hospital for 50 days, a week of it in an induced coma like your daughter. Then he made it out in July and we were hopeful. I always dreaded the hospital appointments, which he had a lot of, but tried to remain positive, as difficult as that was. In his darkest times he’d call me at 2 or 3 or 4 in the morning, and I was always there for him. I slept with my cellphone under my pillow.

His last two weeks were in hospital again, but I was there every day, from morning till night, like his brother and dad, only leaving him when he wanted some privacy with his friends, who came in droves. The last days we’d even wheel him into the hospital park for impromptu “garden parties” , along with his fentanyl IV stand… I was with him in the ambulance several times too when they took him for tests in other hospitals… It was my life for so long!

But then he died and I don’t seem to have a reason for anything anymore. I wake up constantly throughout the night with a heavy heart but he’s not there to worry about anymore. I think that’s what you were saying.

You are fortunate to have a reason to go on - your granddaughter (and perhaps other grandchildren?). How I wish that were the case with me, but Joey had no children, nor does my elder son Kevin. And that makes my heartache even worse.

It’s been three years since your Lisa died. Obviously your life will never be the same. But do you have moments of happiness? Have you been able to “get on” with your life, whatever that means and however possible that is?

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My daughter died in January. The first few months I don’t know how I kept on breathing. The very people I thought would support me, in the main, were more interested in how best to be emotionally distant. That hurt. I’ve now got a Grief Companion from Compassionate Friends who really have been wonderful and I also started counselling a couple of months ago. Those 2 things have given me the support I need to navigate the new life, without my daughter. I do sometimes laugh, but more often I cry. It really is a comfort to find some respite from the pain. It started as just moments when I focussed on something else and I’m building on that. All of us on here will carry the pain and loss forever but we can, slowly slowly learn to be kinder to ourselves, we are going through the worst kind of pain. I read somewhere that it’s like our hearts are filled with grief and loss that won’t disappear, but we can grow our hearts bigger so that we still keep their loss inside us and it won’t grow smaller but we can make some space to live our lives again. I suppose it’s hope that we can survive and that our lives can still, over time, become meaningful again. Not the same as it was before but better than 24/7 grief. Xxxxxx

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Dear friend, I am glad you could identify with that feeling of loss, not just the horrendous gaping hole losing a child leaves, but the loss of worry. Strange, isn’t it.
Yes three years on I am enjoying life. Our elder daughter Jemma has just been given the Prestige Award for the best independent art school in Scotland. Something she built from scratch, offering art lessons in a community centre after her
Degree in Fine Art Drawing and Painting. She couldn’t get an art related job anywhere so put flyers around the town and now she has an amazing art school. She does online classes too and has students from all over the world. Very proud indeed. She brings us joy and so does Brooke. Jemma is single 37 and would love to be a Mum but pours all her nurturing into Brooke who absolutely adores her.
Yes, I am living, not the way I expected to but enjoying my life now. Never imagined I would get to this stage though.
Sending love and comfort to you. You have been through so much but hope one day the sun will break through the clouds and you will feel alive again.

Kate xxx

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Dear JoeysMom, I am so sorry for the loss of your son and that you have joined this club that none of us want to be members of. Seeing your son so poorly must have been very hard.
I lost my precious daughter, Gemma, 4 years ago. The first weeks were so horrific … not eating … not sleeping … constantly in tears,
I felt as though I was going mad. But gradually a peace and something like acceptance began to descend.
I still have my days when I am tearful and sad but they are far less. In the early weeks I could not even go out for a coffee with my husband, but here we are now on holiday in Wales. Gemma has 2 boys and we see them often, so we are lucky. We also have her little dog, Elvis and I would be lost without him. He is such a joy. I of course wish with all my heart that Gemma was still here and I would change places with her in a heartbeat if I could. But I don’t want her boys to grow up in an atmosphere of sadness so I tried hard for them.
Take baby steps, don’t push yourself and go at your own pace. I hope that hearing of my experience helps you a little. Much love to you xxx

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Following on from our various conversations about how others react towards us. Today I was in M n S with my friends visiting from Somerset. I noticed a lady I hadn’t seen in years, her kids were at school with ours. Anyway, I said ‘Hi Sheena, long time since I’ve seen you’. She said ‘oh Kate how are you? You look amazing’ How’s the family? At this point I got the panic feeling, lump in my throat , face flushing and tears beginning to form. She said ‘Oh my goodness what’s happened?’ Then of course I realised she had no idea about Lisa. She was so upset. She is a healer and placed her hand on my heart. Amazingly this made my panic recede. I was then able to explain everything.
She was in total shock poor soul. Anyway my friend took my hand and we went to the nearest cafe to get a grip of myself.
It was awful but I was very touched by the caring words and gestures.
Feeling a bit jaded now though. Having to explain out loud is so flipping hard.

Love to all.

Kate x

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Dear Kate,

I completely agree you find yourself explaining it to people who have asked an innocent question like, why did you give up work or how many children do you have, or you’ve been away a long time been somewhere nice. As you say panic wells up and you blurt out ‘my son died’ and then there’s panic on the other person’s face.

The death defines and explains everything and it’s so difficult to get through they day without mentioning it to strangers and acquaintances. In fact I have been mixing with strangers recently it is just easier. And so life goes on, and on.

M

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Thank you Kate for your uplifting words. I was very happy to read that you are now able to enjoy your life again, although I imagine it will never be the same. What a lovely photo of your daughter and how proud you must be of her award!
Annemarie XXX

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Thank you Victoria. I’m glad you’re doing well four years after Gemma’s death., I know it’s all still so new to me and after 16 months of watching my son suffer so, I feel like there’s just nothing left. Two weeks before he died, two palliative doctors came to see him, and then later me. They talked about his going into hospice - here in Switzerland that’s like a 5-star hotel - and I thought hopefully they would be able to control his pain. That was the idea, but he never made it out of hospital. I remember telling the doctors that worse for me than having to live without my son, as by this time we knew they could do nothing anymore to stop the cancer, was watching my son suffer. Yes, that was horrific! I would gladly have given my own life for his suffering to stop. But now it has because he’s dead and I am just left with this vast emptiness in front of me.

I know I need to take it one step at a time., I’m trying, but I’m nowhere near out of the woods. But your message did me good. Thank you.
Annemarie xx

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I find it difficult going back to some of the things I did before. I’m in various groups and going to new ones is easier cos I don’t have to explain all that’s happened. There is a group I used to really enjoy but I haven’t gone at all this year. They must all know about my daughters death and I am sure they will all be kind, but I don’t know whether to to just go back and say nothing or just tell them what they already know. I don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable but I don’t want my losing my daughter to be the elephant in the room that no one mentions. Xxxx

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hello Joey’s mum,

I can relate to what you say about the cancer journey, and the hospital appointments I too did the same journey’s down to radiotherapy/chemo he had both at the same time. Every day. Up and down to the hospital. Sam passed on the 9th Dec 2016, and I am almost 6 years down the line but sometimes I nod off and then wake suddenly and for a just a second believe it was a dream and then reality hits. but you do manage to cope better as the years go on and you do manage to smile Sam like Joey never had children. I am determined to try and enjoy what is left of my life because Sam loved life and was a people person and would be angry at me if I didn’t keep getting up and trying to get on.

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Oh what a handsome man your Sam was!! :heart::heart: here’s my Joey

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Beautiful young man.xxxx

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Very handsome and such a lovely smile xx

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Hello Joey’s mum

He was indeed a beautiful young man with a lovely smile that reached his eyes. You must be very proud of him, keep talking out loud to him he will hear you.

All my love
Helen

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Hi all. Looking at pictures of your lost son’s and daughters, has a profound affect. All these beautiful people who’s lives are cut short. The fact that they are complete strangers to me just brings it all to mind about my own son. All the things they will miss out on. How easily they are forgotten apart from by us, as the sands of time slowly pass. You just take it for granted that your kids will always be there, and suddenly when they are not it affects you on so many levels. Sometimes you can be in a situation where you forget that they have gone and you for a split second think to yourself, you will ring them or save a tale to tell them later , then reality slaps you in the face and you momentarily get choked up. I miss my boy so much some days I wish I simply never woke up again. We all soldier on because we have no choice. I wouldn’t wish this heartache that we have to shoulder on my worse enemy. I get by most days and manage to keep a lid on it , but randomly every so often you just wanna throw yourself off a cliff.

Sorry that last bit sounds like I’m really struggling today. I’m fine,. Was just thinking how looking at old pictures of your kids brings it all back
Ok thanks for listening
Take care.
Jim

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I’m so sorry you’re having a bad day, Jim! I agree with everything you say, except the line about how easily our children are forgotten. I don’t believe that for a minute about my son Joey. And I’m sure that’s not true either with your son!

When I was 19 I lived in Thailand - this was in the early 70s before mass tourism. I was waterskiing in the Pattaya Bay, taking turns with our Irish neighbour’s son, Bruce. He collided head-on with another motorboat and died a few days later at the American military base. I have found myself thinking about him many many times over the years, even though were ‘just’ neighbours and not god friends. I can still see him, red hair and freckles and very shy. Lousy waterskier but so sweet and polite. I imagine his good friends will remember him very well too.

So please remember many people besides us bereaved parents and close family will remember our wonderful children, Jim!

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Hello all dear friends , I M do sorry that I some times I do not reply to you . Tell you the truth I do not know what to say to your. I do know that all the new members on here I can say that at times it will get easier. And I do feel guilty that I wish I could comfort you more . But Dec 11 th will be 6 years and my heart is still broken . I am starting to relive every moment now until the day she passed. The worse thing ever was her being in the dreaded , I still find it hard to say the word . ( undertakers ) over Xmas . The thought of her being just a few minutes round the corner from us . My still aches so much , thinking that’s where she spent her last Xmas . That’s why Xmas is so painful . I am finding it so so hard now thinking back to to those awful days . Wishing the undertaker would of let me bring her home for Xmas . But he did not recommend it . . Oh god why is life so cruel . Maddie xxx

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