Hi Zoe, I am so sorry you are in so much pain , it’s so very early days for you , although I know the pain will never go away .I don’t blame you getting away , I am the same , life at home feels so empty without Dawn We are disappearing down to Cornwall again . We were only there 3 weeks ago . But I am only happy when I can plan an escape . The only thing what I miss is Dawn would be on the phone as soon as we arrived home wanting to know everything we had done . . But I am sure Dawn is always with us . and I think you know Sam is always with you as well , as I think you have signs. Where do you go in Dorset , as you can’t be far where we live in Hampshire . ? Pehaps on your one of your visit , we could meet up for coffee . Sending hugs Maddie xxx
Hi susan im sorry for the loss of your beautiful son. We put this face on but its so hard .i try to be strong .but when im alone the loss of sam is so great. We try to get on with it for the love of our familys sending you 
Hi maddie thank you for replying. Yes i feel i need to be doing .its a crazy, mixed up feeling .that would be lovely to meet .enjoy your trips im sure dawn is with you . Take care sending you a hug love zoe
How do I live without you?
Oh my love I do not.
You are with me from the moment I open my eyes until they close.
And even after that,
on the plane of dreams where mortals and souls meet,
you are with me still.
“I have not yet learned to live without you,
and perhaps I never will,
the truth of the matter is,
you are always with me still.”
You walked such a blazing pathway, when your feet were on this earth, that your imprint lingers on and I place my own feet in your steps, one by one.
How do I live without you?
It’s really very simple.
I do not.
“I have yet to live without you
perhaps I never will,
perhaps the key to grief is,
you are always with me still.”
Donna Ashworth
Oh victoria,
Thank you for sharing that is truly beautiful .made me cry .this new way of living is just so hard. Thank you for your kindness much love
Hi all. I remember thinking once back in the early days. It didn’t hit me at first it took me quite a few months to realize that the night Sam crashed his car. That was it , that was the moment his life stopped, at that precise moment the car came to a stop. All his clothes and personal belongings were suddenly redundant. The smashed up car was now just scrap. His relationship with his girlfriend didn’t exist anymore. His friends all had a vacancy in there lives , the one Sam once filled. His job would be advertised. The place at the dinner table when he visited home would be redundant. The footprint he had made in life has disappeared. For a long time I expected him to appear and claim all these things back as his own. The space he would take up on the karaoke in the pub. The noise his laughter would make. The noise on the phone when he’d ring me every night. But he never did. That’s when the real pain engulfs you. When you are trying to explain to yourself. Where’s my boy gone. Trying to rationalize to yourself that someone who once took up so much space in your life has left a hole the size of the grand canyon in your heart. The worst bit is, you can’t explain it to anybody. You can’t tell them that the big invisible void you carry round with you has changed who you are. While you are trying to find your identity again the people on the periphery if your life look straight through you. They assume, or pretend or avoid.
Eventually when your new life becomes the norm you adapt , you find a way through. You take a different route. You navigate your own path. Then in a small way it kind of comes full circle. You include your lost child in everything you do. You speak to them, you confide in them. You bounce your thoughts and feelings off them. Over the last few weeks I’ve had a couple of hospital appointments and work meetings and Sam was right there with me. No one else can see or feel him. But I can. That’s when I know I didn’t loose him. He’s always here with me. I’m 7 years on and there genuinely isn’t a day gone past that I haven’t thought about him. That’s because he’s with me. I didn’t see it at first, but I do now. The boy I had for 24 years will always be with me. He’s just gone on ahead paving the way for whatever comes next. But every morning as soon as I wake up I no he will be part of my day
Ok thanks for listening
Jim
Hi jim as ususal amazing words . Its incredible you say what we all think . I really hope in time i feel like that. Thank you so much fir sharing love zoe
You will one day Zoe. 
Hi Jim. I can relate to everything you have said in particular the empty seat at the dining table, Christian always sat opposite me, and every night when I sit there I look across at his empty chair its these small memories that linger on forever. Our children will be with us always no one can take then from us. Marina xxx
Oh Jim such amazing words again. I love how you express your feelings and we get it. You explain so beautifully the intricacies of losing a child.
Your Sam was the luckiest boy to have you for his dad and I am so sorry it was for such a short time
Thanks Jim.
Again very well written and thought out words. I don’t think I am there yet with the feeling my daughter is with me, the absence of her presence is just too much to bear at this point in time. But the hole as big as the grand canyon absolutely. The empty chair the empty house is a trigger every day. I am still at a stage where the overwhelming sadness that I could not even say goodbye to my daughter when she died and that I will never hear her again, or see her again is just an unimaginable thought. How a future life will be bearable just seems a distant dream. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to have this pain for what reason I know not. I feel so sad though if my own genes or my relatives genes caused my daughter her mental health issues. I am going through diazepam like smarties some days just to hold it together. I still talk to my daughter every day I say goodnight to her every night, I include her in everything I do. I think of her all the time. I don’t know what else I can do but to take each day as it comes and continue to love and show my love for my daughter in whatever way I can. Thanks again to everyone , xx
Well it’s the small hours again. Seem to spend more time sitting in the dark than I do anything else. Hi everyone. Andy. You are probably experiencing the worst stage of grief (understandably so). I’m sorry their are no magic words or cures that will take the suffocating pain away. The lost of your Wonderful daughter is such a massive shock that it leaves you feeling this way. You mentioning about your genes and your daughters condition is just the guilt, I say just the guilt like it’s not a big deal, but it definitely is a big deal, it’s a mountain that you have to get past. If it wasn’t the genes you feel guilty about believe me you will find another reason to feel guilty. I would say as parents we all feel guilty about loosing a child regardless of how they died. It’s all part of the fact that we as humans are simply not programmed to deal with the death of a child. You spend your whole life worrying about them, but actually never really expecting anything serious to happen to them. Then when it does, it’s such an alien concept that we break down. We cease to operate in the normal way . All the everyday stuff we used to do or feel is all jumbled up to the point we feel we are failing at life. It’s like someone has punched you in the stomach and knocked the wind out of you. Momentarily you can’t breathe and your brain is scrambling, trying to make sense so your body can function properly again. You are panicking probably all the while a 1000 thoughts are rushing round your head. Eventually you gain some equilibrium. To me grief is the same. Trying to make sense of never seeing your child again has you in a complete confused dazed state of mind that nothing seems rational anymore. All your daily routines are totally out of sync. You don’t no wether to stay in bed or go for a 12 mile route march. Wether to go get some counselling or drink yourself into oblivion. You aren’t thinking straight so it’s hardly surprising that you can’t make head nor tale of what you should be doing or feeling. But as the weeks and months drift by you will begin to settle. Missing them doesn’t get easier, you just adapted and can manage yourself better. My personal experience, you go from that crushing intense horrible pain and shock at the beginning to eventually having some good and bad periods where the grief comes and goes in waves. Some days you want to leave the house and just keep walking until you drop off the edge of the world other days you are content to just sit looking out of the window . Anyone that is really struggling you will eventually find a way that you can cope better. It’s horses for courses. You will find or do something that just oils the cogs and make the journey just the slightest bit easier . Ok enough waffling, think I’ll go and try some bed.
Take care and thanks for listening
Jim
Dear Andy, I know exactly your feeling of guilt. I often wonder why our beautiful Lisa got a lung disease. I am asthmatic as was my father. Therefore, although she was always a healthy child after her initial pneumonia as a baby, when she started to get out of breath doing physical activities, the GP practice put her on an asthama inhaler. It used to make her feel shake. I should have picked that up and taken her back to the GP for referral. Anyway I didn’t and she seemed healthy otherwise but as a parent we always feel that we failed them.
I hope that in time you will reach a stage of peace, to some degree anyway. It comes eventually but the pain is always there.
Much love , Kate
Hi Andy - I too feel maybe I am to blame for my daughters mental health both genetically and personally. I think it goes with the awful package of grief. In my more grounded moments I can see that no one is to blame. All of us can only do our best, we can’t be perfect parents, but we did our best. I find myself going over events and thinking if I’d done x y or z this wouldn’t have happened. We haven’t got that much control over events in truth. Losing your own child leaves you totally powerless and that increase the trauma. I’m about 8 months on and I can honestly say it’s still often shit but there are chinks of light and they give some respite. Honestly. Sending you hugs xxx
Thank you everyone for the messages. Struggling today so can’t speak much sense, but appreciate the wisdom you all have. Xxxx
Hi Andy, so sorry that you are having such a bad day. I wish I could say something to help, but it is all so raw isn’t it.
It was 4 months yesterday since we lost our son. Today I decided I would give his room a clean. I dusted his car collection and was doing ok but then I noticed his calendar on the wall, he was big VW Van fan and always had a VW Calendar. The calendar was still showing May, the month he passed away, it absolutely knocked me for six. When we lose our children, they leave such a massive hole in our lives and the future seems unbearable without them.
Hi all. Middle of the night again, time for a ramble. My brother has 4 grown kids all over 25 years of age. My brother lives on Angelsey. His lads all live in Manchester (until recently). One of his son’s moved to Scotland about a month ago. Was speaking with my brother yesterday and what struck me was how hard it has hit him. By the way he was talking you’d think his son had emigrated to the moon. First of all I tried to explain that he only see,s any of his kids 3 or 4 times a year anyway, because he’s in Wales they are in Manchester. So I didn’t see the big deal just coz one of them has gone to Scotland. It’s 5/6 hours away in a car. But he was having none of it. He was very emotional because his lad had moved. So I tried to explain to him in a none condescending way. That they have these marvelous new inventions called phones. There are also trains and cars and a multitude of ways to stay in touch with his son. I then said imagine what it’s like for me. Nope!!! Went straight over his head. The loss of my son doesn’t affect how he thinks about stuff. Which just demonstrates how little others understand grief. My brother and I are really close but he never mentions my boy, that’s his way if coping, or so I thought!!!. It’s more a case of, it hasn’t happened to him so he has no concept of what it’s like to loose a child so therefore doesn’t spend anytime thinking about it. I’ve found over the years since my boy passed this is the general consensus of how people around us behave. So while you are trying to adapt and overcome and live this new life. Those around you are thinking about what they are having for dinner or where the next holiday is booked to. I know it’s easier said than done but the sooner we realize that others don’t think like us bereaved parents the less likely we are to get upset or offended by people not taking an interest in our passed children or indeed our own personal feelings. I spent a long time being angry at people for not understanding what it feels like to Walk this path. Until it dawned on me that they can’t understand full stop unless they’ve been us and been where we are. So the next time someone says something to you that upsets you or indeed runs a mile if you mention your loss, it’s not entirely their fault. They are just ignorant to what we have to live through everyday. Outside of this site I never really mention my son for two reasons. 1st. People don’t know what to say back to you so either blurt something random at you or they will quickly change the subject. And 2nd. They simply couldn’t care less. The trick is trying to train yourself to act as normal as can be. That is our strength. That’s how we fight back. Yes we all crumble behind closed doors but each day that passes is a day closer to normal. Rite better try my bed
Take care, and thanks for listening
Jim
Dear Jim,
Very thoughtful now after reading your post. You are right again and I think we have all had those horrible experiences.
I think that most people can’t even imagine the horror and nightmare that we are going through and therefore their minds will not allow them to go there. We of course have no choice 
. I hope you have a good day xxx
So true dear Jim. We have some close friends here in our small village. They have been so wonderful and still put there arms around me when the grief suddenly drowns out everything around me. Lisa’s Godmother who lives in Cheshire sends me a heart on WhatsApp every time she thinks of Lisa and us. Sometimes several times a week.
These are the friends who understand, even though they haven’t experienced what we have.
Others don’t have a flipping clue.
We are always here on this site 24/7. We know the endless wakeful nights the turmoil that goes on and on, but to the outside world we seem ‘over it’. Well that’s a joke.
My friend Ann who runs the Deli lost her husband in a plane crash on 3rd May 2015. The had only just started the business. I know the exact date as its our Jemmas birthday and her middle sons too. Her husband was a lovely man and they had been together since school.
I remember holding her in my arms while she sobbed and sobbed with no sound able to come out. The shock and grief had swallowed her up. Since our Lisa died she said she feels at ease with me as she can say whatever she feels. She knows I understand and she understands me. I know it’s not her child she has lost but her husband was her friend since she was 12. Anyway, she knows the magnitude if grief and now we are close.
Not all folk are able to talk about death as its taboo. In our cases we, like you say, seem to have to understand them.
It’s just the way it is I guess.
Take care dear Jim.
Much love, Kate x
Hi Jim…I think after a time and people see us trying to bring some form of normality back into our lives they think that’s it all back to normal but what they don’t realise or try to understand our lives will never be normal again…
Thanks again for such a thoughtful post, Marina xxx