I’ve dealt with loss before. I lost my beloved Nan who was like a mum to me growing up 17 years ago. Then a year later I lost my husband.
Since then, I’d always prioritised being a good mum and role model to my two children and raised them single handedly from them being 9 and 12 years old, until they both flew the coop a few years back.
My youngest (my son) moved away from our town so I don’t see him that often, but my daughter moved in with her boyfriend a few years ago after buying a house close by.
My daughter and I have been so so close. Think daily calls, three-times weekly meet ups, shopping trips, regular holidays and she became my best friend as she became an adult.
She was diagnosed with depression last year and turned to alcohol as a prop. I sensed she wasn’t happy in her relationship, but pride meant she refused my offers come come home and give them both some space.
In May we went away for a week and had the best time. She barely drank and seemed her normal self. We got home and the following weekend I went away with my friends.
On the Saturday night, she’d phoned me distraught saying they’d had a row and he’d left the house. I assured her that the following day I’d pick her up when I got back and she could come home while she considered things.
I travelled back on the Sunday and went straight to hers. Couldn’t get in so checked with her partner who was elsewhere but said he’d not heard from her all day.
I broke in and found her unresponsive and purple. She’d drunk a lethal dose of alcohol and fallen in a way that cut off her circulation. She was rushed to A&E and I was told it was unlikely she’d get through the night.
They were wrong, she did get through that night and every night for another six weeks. During her time in critical care she had major organ failure, blood clots, a cardiac arrest and they had to amputate her leg, perform a tracheostomy and give her a stoma.
After six weeks and almost a dozen procedures she seemed to be pulling through. She was responsive and able to understand things, smile and nod/shake her head. Then I got the dreaded phone call four weeks ago saying they didn’t think she’d last the night. I got to her at 11pm, they stopped life support at 3am and she passed away just before 9am.
I honestly don’t think I can live through this any more. I had six weeks of watching her in pain and having her body operated on, all for her to die anyway. Rather than happy memories, all I can think of is her as I found her and how scared and in pain she looked in hospital.
I’ve contacted a few bereavement counsellors who’ve said they won’t even help people until six months after a death as that when it hits the worst.
If I feel like this now, I honestly don’t think I can bear to get any worse in another five months.
I’m so angry at everyone. The hospital for not letting her die on the first night and torturing her for six weeks, her partner for leaving her on that night, me for not trying to get back sooner from my weekend away and her for doing this to herself.
I’ve still got to get through the funeral but even after that there’s got to be an inquest so it will ultimately drag on for months.
If it weren’t for my son, I honestly would consider ending it all. 
