Trigger Warning: This post discusses bereavement, grief, and the loss of a loved one to suicide. It also reflects on family loss and the emotional aftermath of personal tragedy. Please take care while reading if these topics are difficult for you.

I sometimes get ideas for a blog, but the minute I try to put them into words my mind wanders and holding onto the words becomes difficult.

When we lived in our old house, our back garden backed on to our neighbours at the end, in a sort of L shape. The young couple had three children, and our middle daughter used to babysit for them. They moved away to a nearby village. I last saw them about 13 years ago when my dog was a puppy and, in order to socialise him with all age groups, I asked the mum if I could take Dougal over to meet the three children aged about 10 - 15 years.

Sadly, on Easter Sunday I heard from the eldest child that their sibling had taken their own life last month. I was asked if I could tell my daughter, given that she has experienced the loss of a sibling. I think the family would probably benefit from meeting with either of us, while they are still in the throes of taking in the enormity of what has happened.

Anyway, I have mulled over how they must be feeling at this time and it has brought some of the grief to the surface. I wrote a message to my daughter, who had babysat for them, to say I had become conscious that we did not really talk about what happened when her sibling died and she fell apart over a year later. She has had a therapist, whom she still sees and a marvellous group of friends, but I feel now, nine years on, that I was probably not present enough.

I said that I found it hard to talk about my thoughts and feelings, in as much as, when I try to sit and think about ‘stuff’, holding onto my thoughts is like trying to catch a butterfly or hold a handful of dry sand, just too difficult to process.

It was suggested that I write things down, but again, the words are like sand they slip through my mind and won’t stay still. There is also a sort of fear that someone will read what I have written, that is private to me.

Occasionally something will come up on TV or radio when I am with my OH and we will talk about it, but it doesn’t happen very often. We have been together nearly 48 years so, if something touches us we can express our togetherness with a squeeze of the hand or a hug, we rarely seem to need words.

This is quite a long blog, given that I find it hard to get words down in print. I do wish I could formulate my thoughts into words more easily.

I look forward to hearing from you how you deal with the difficult thoughts that arise from a personal tragedy.

With love,  

Another Sally xx

A Moodscope member