Below are a selection of our reader's stories of grief and bereavement.
They have shared these stories with me so that I can put them onto this
page and hopefully they will help others to deal with their grief and the
emotions that they will be feeling. I would like to say a big thank you
to everyone who has sent in a story, they are so, so brave. I know how hard
it must be but remember that your words are helping others.
Dear Gayle
I found your site today, and wanted to share my experience.
Who did you lose?
On Monday 29th October 2007 at 2140 hours, I lost my best friend, Ivy Pope.
I have known her for just under 16 years. We met in September 1995 when
we were in University in Luton. We were both studying psychology and health
studies at degree level, and I latched onto her because at 18 years old,
I didn't have a clue, but as Ivy was a mature student, she appeared switched
on. From those early days on, she was my advisor, my listening ear, my better
judgment, my way of having instant fun, she was everything.
Circumstances of your loss?
On Monday 29th October 2007 I fell asleep quite early in the evening after
sending random texts to all my friends and family which in a nutshell was
one of those junk texts that go around that you are supposed to share with
five people including the sender about If I died and went somewhere far,
I'd write your name on every star, so everyone could look up to see that
your friendship means the world to me!
During that night, totally unconnected I received obviously plenty of calls
and texts and as it got later I just ignored them, tiredly drifting off
with the thought that I would call tomorrow. Ivy's phone called repeatedly,
but I thought, "I spoke to you two days ago and I still have your voicemail,
so that'll remind me to talk about us meeting on Thursday 1st November 2007
because that was my day of shift and Ivy would have finished her course
work.
Early on Tuesday 30th October 2007 I woke up at 5 am, showered, dressed
and as I was about to head out the door for work, I picked up my phone.
There were several missed calls etc.. but what did get my attention was
Ivy's husband, Michael leaving me a voicemail. He never called, not out
of any malice, but as Ivy was my friend and he was her husband, it was just
that. Anyway, I called him and still at 0530 hours, I didn't think it strange
that he answered the phone. I was all cheery and he sounded odd. Then he
broke the news....
I cannot recall the words, I just knew that Ivy, according to him, was dead.
I didn't mean to be too judgmental, but I had to ask again and again every
detail concerning how it happened. I can not recall what he said. I just
know that a drunk driver impacted with the rear of her car on a fast road
and crumbled her car, ejecting her from it into the carriageway. She died
pretty much instantly of a broken neck.
Initial thoughts and feelings?
I remembering ending the call, and somehow driving the 45 miles to work.
I had just started a new role in a new department and with work politics
being particulary unsupportive, I knew that calling in and explaining would
simply have fallen on deaf hears. I cannot really remember the day. It was
sunny, which was odd for October, but I felt beyond grey, in fact I felt
nothing at all. I cried, threw up and simply struggled particularly as I
had Ivy's cheery voicemail from a few days prior talking about us meeting
up, and her usual moans and quirks.
I still have that message saved. I struggled through work that day and knowing
that either I had got it wrong and I was actually asleep in a bad dream
or my Ivy had left me. I remember explaining to someone at work my news
that day and received the comment, "its not as if it is family, you'll
be over it soon!" Thankfully my immediate supervisor was more supportive
as were my family and friends.
How did you deal with loss in the short term?
Her family arriving, the funeral, cremation etc... and this was all a blur.
I fell out with a close friend. I don't even know why, I just know that
Ivy is not here and anyone who could not support me during this may as well
not be in my life. I am still dealing with her death day by day, we have
already had Halloween, Bon fire night, Christmas, New year, My birthday
and her birthday! as well as a court case that culminated in Crown court
convicting the driver of her death.
I cannot explain the emptiness that fills me most days and more so on the
anniversary days.
I find going to her house, where her husband still lives, totally wierd.
I half expect her to come round the door with tea or some gorgeous food
or a hug and a beautiful smile.
I create online memorial on such sites as yours, I use aromatherapy to soothe,
I unusually bought The Bible and placed it by my bedside with a photo of
her and me. I am not a church goer, but find comfort knowing that she is
in heaven because she was the most honest, selfless person in the world
and I know that God is looking after her, as she has never done anything
bad to suffer. Gardening was her passion and it has become mine. I feel
close to her doing it because I know that she loved it and she would be
proud. Years ago Ivy bought me a soft toy version of the BBC TV character
PINGU. I will never lose him! Though I understand that she is not physically
here; but short term, I simply keep myself busy with doing anything that
I think she would approve of or something cool that I could tell her. I
believe that she is still with me and all those she loves. I guess in the
short term, anything that reminds me of her, is what I immerse myself in.
How did you deal with loss in the long term?
I have not thought that far.
How do you memorialise and remember?
At the place where Ivy died, I placed a Remember me plague and initially
flowers were placed. I have since, put a cross with an Ivy plant trailing
around it and have planted some pretty coloured sturdy plants so that her
exit spot from this world will never be forgotten. I also have a home made
candle in my home with an inscription. It is a burgundy candle (this was
the colour of her hair) with the added scent of freshly cut grass (she was
such a gardener that despite all the smells in the world, fresh cut grass
reminds me of her) I light this when I feel down and remember positive thoughts
alone. I have also got a text that she sent me that I have since printed
and framed and the words are typically Ivy soothing logic that fight through
difficult times. This is by the front door and a quick glance keeps me in
the right mindset. At this point in time, I am still stuck in a tunnel and
the bad days still outweigh the good days. But the little things I do for
Ivy help me to prolong her spirit.
Thank you for listening, sorry it is so long!
Regards
Cheryl Wray
I was hesitant to write my story, because it makes me
look bad- however, I feel, for myself, and for Matt, I
need too.
Matt and I met at our boarding school, and instantly,
it was love. He always had a way with making me
happy, and smile, even when i was having a horrible
day. He was my world, and I loved him just as much
then, as i do now.
Matt and I decided we were going to run away together,
and I left my house one night, and met him at a place
in Boston called South Station. Its a T station. we
went from there back to his house in New York City.
His parents were furious...and so we took a bus to
Florida. We stayed there for a little while, and then
decided we needed to go home.
When we got back to NYC, his parents told me I could
not stay there. So i went to live with an older male
friend of mine. Soon after that, the guy I was
staying with started abusing me, and told me if i
didn't break up with Matt that he would kill him. So
i had too. Matt showed up at my house one day, and i
broke up with him...and he cried. That was the last
tim I saw Matt.
Years went by, and me and matt would call each other
occasionally. Then, the phone calls stoped. I didnt
think much of it because Matt was into drugs, and i
figured, he was just too busy getting high.
I moved away from the abusive guy and moved in with my
mom in Nevada. And one day, i thought i would call
matt. his answering machine came on so i left him a
message. The next day at 8:00am, the phone rang. I
was sleeping, bu i picked it up. It was Matts
mother...she informed me that Matt had passed away in
his sleep due to corinary artery disease., something
no one knew he had.
I felt, and still feel a lot of regret assosiated with
the last time i saw matt. And I feel very torn about
this, because I never had any closure.
But I know matt is in a better place, and that he died
peacefully- and knowing that it was a painless death,
makes it easyer on me.
I know Matt would've forgivin me. he was a wonderful
guy, and I loved him with all of my heart, he was the
first guy I ever loved. He will always hold a special
place in my heart.
I enclosed a poem I wrote about Matt...so please read
it and tell me what you think.
Katie White
I told you it was over,
as the tears fell from your eyes,
I said I didn't love you,
But truthfully, I lied.
I never thought,
I never knew,
That would be the last time,
That I would see you,
And if I had known,
what I know now,
I would have changed things,
some way, some how.
The day that phone rang,
and I got the news,
I was shattered,
torn and confused.
21 years old,
and your already gone?
I guess its true,
Life doesn't last long.
So now I sit here,
thinking of your love,
Praying and hoping,
your with God above,
And when my day comes,
Please promise you'll be,
The one that takes my hand,
The one that holds me.
I love you dearly,
Although I wasn't always fair,
I always wanted the best for you,
and I always cared.
And one day, I pray,
You'll know it to be true,
I did need you there,
and I truly loved you.
hey, well this isn't quite a poem. well this has to do with my loss. i am 14 years old, my name is shelby lynn hart. I had lost my father at the age of 13. Which was last year , the date was January 31, 2007. We had to move to South Carolina because this is where my family can support us and not just having a single mother. My father supported my whole family, which had consisted of, me, my older brother Christopher, my mother Dawn, and my grandmother. We all had alot of money thanks to my mother and mostly my father.
This has been a really hard struggle for me to lose my father at such a young age. It hasn't really hit me yet, honestly i am still in denial. I don't want to believe that my best friend, and the person that i trusted with my whole life is gone, and it flashed right before my eyes. It feels like i was just talking to him last night, and we were in his room, laughing and joking around. I just wish that things could be the same way they were before, i miss everything about him. I can still remember the boldness of his voice, and when we would joke around all of the time, and when we would always have serious conversations. And now thinking of it I kinda miss his lectures. I miss how we could just sit in his room and watch T.V. and just sit there and talk about boys and school, and problems that i needed help with. He always knew the right thing to say, and even when he didn't he would always think of something funny or something so nice that would always help. He aways knew how to make me laugh with something so simple as a knock-knock joke, just the way he would word things and the way he would say them.
This hurts writing this, but it is okay. I have to let some of my feelings out one way or the other. It hurts seeing these young kids having great lives, and going to father daughter dances, and when i could be going with my father, but knowing that i don't have one anymore, thats what hurts the most. I am handling my sorrow with anger, i dont know why, but that's how i handle it. I don't cry that much. I do, but then again I don't. Sometimes people say you just have to believe in God that he will treat your father right, sometimes, i don't really respect god all that much because if he knew what was best for me and my family he shouldn't have of taken the best thing i have ever wished for in my life away. I know that God is always right, and he has helped me alot with this, and i know that i should believe with all of my heart, but it is kind of hard when knowing a whole chunk of your heart is missing.
My father taught me how to follow my heart, and not listen to everything that people say to try and bring me down. He told me that i can do anything that i want. He basically taught me everything i know, and learned to this day. And i miss him with all of my heart, and this is why he is my most missed memory.
Shelby Hart
On march 22 at 6:45 just like normal my alarm went off and i got ready for school. i don't remember if i walked with anybody or not... all i remember was that everything was wet from the storm we had the previous night. i got to school and everybody was talking about this old farm that burnt down. i though nothing of it. then one of my best friends (there were five of us) came up to me and said we have to talk. she told me that my friends house had burnt down but all i said was no it was just some old barn and went on to my normal classes. by second period i was worried my friend Cheyenne wasn't at school. then the principle came in and asked to talk to me. well i was used to that it was no big deal. he took me not into his office but the side room for when people have to talk. he preceding in telling me about rumors and things like that then he said to me "Hayley i just got off the phone with the fire chief... he confirmed that early this morning Cheyenne's house burnt down. we lost her and both of her little sisters, I'm sorry." i immediately collapsed and started balling my eyes out. and repeating "but i just played a game with her yesterday in study hall.....". then i remember being in the library with lots of teachers and counselor's and most of the kids in my grade (8th). boxes and boxes of Kleenex were gone through that day and many days to follow.
This all happened on a Thursday.and that Thursday i had an ortho. apt. some ladies were in there talking about the fire and just normal gossip. once again i started balling and it was all i could do not to scream at the ladies. they wanted to know where the parents were. i knew. their mom was at work. she works grade shift. and their father (father figure) was out of town planning his fathers funeral. people just didn't understand. i went to see the house after that there was nothing left. i took a balloon and flowers the girls' favorite colors pink purple and blue.
On Friday i was the only one out of out little group of friends to show up at school. i was devastated and went back home almost immediately. the next week and a half we had spring break which was especially hard because there was the viewing and the funeral. We received so many sympathy cards and funeral flowers, it was touching to see how much everyone cared. Cheyenne was the only one of the three girls with an open casket. her sister were burnt too extensively for open ones. i later found out that Cheyenne made it out still living while her sisters were pronounced dead on the scene. Cheyenne made it to the hospital where she later died. for many weeks after everybody you saw in the halls was crying or sad. but there was the few who said "get over it all ready" which didn't help any only made it worse.
It has now been almost a year (10 months) since they passed away. i miss
Cheyenne every day and still cry myself to sleep most nights. but i know
in my heart that she is happy because it would have been harder if she had
lived while her sisters perished. I've written poetry and I've made songs.
even tried to draw. it all helps me to remember. I've also combined all
the picture that all of us ,the little group and everybody else, had into
a picture album. there were many made one was given to her mother and father
(father figure) at one of many benefits for them. and others were just circulated
for all to see. mine is kept at home on it's own shelf with the candle for
her and a folder with everything involving the incident. my best strategies
for dealing with it is that i am training to be a fire fighter/EMT so that
i can prevent what happened to Cheyenne and her sister from happening again...
or at least i can try.
in loving memory of Cheyenne and Hunter Groth & Rae'ven Redinger.
much love, Hayley Rose Zelenak
My brother, Ken, had turned 28, the month before his death. I was just
shy of 14. He was my only brother, whom I loved. I knew he loved and cared
about me, too. His death was such a trauma, that it has taken me years to
come to accept it.
It was a Friday night, November 18th. I was going to babysit that night.
We sat and watched a sci fi show together before I left. I was being a snotty
adolescent sister, not wanting to share my snacks with him. If I could go
back, I would give him all that I had to relive that last night. If I could
but change what happened. He later told our Mom he was going to take some
candy to Marilyn, his [estranged] girlfriend. Was he carrying the casings
for his shot-gun in that bag? He did seek out Marilyn. I am not sure of
the details. I do know he entered a night club where she was. He shot her
inside the club. He went outside and shot himself. Only the two of them
know the dynamics of what preceded the end. Time has not lessened the pain
that I stuffed. Now that I am feeling the pain, I trust I will be able to
heal and begin to live life, instead of lamenting his death. I pray to have
my life be a living memorial to him. He was so much more than the desperate
act of a depressed man. He was a son, a brother, a friend, an amazingly
gifted man, who knew nothing of his gifts and talents...an artist, a poet,
an athlete, compassionate, sensitive, caring, and yet troubled spiritually
and emotionally. Our father never recovered from his death. Our Mother never
shared her pain, but spoke in facts. My oldest sister continues to drown
her grief in alcohol. The middle sister refuses to share about that...she
gives others the illusion of looking good on the outside...like somehow
she is not touched by anything not pretty. I am estranged from both my sisters
today. I truly miss my brother all the more, as I feel he was the only sibling
who really loved me.
At the time of his death, it was like we were going on auto-pilot. No one
gave us a script on how to deal with a murder-suicide in the family. I think
I slipped into a form of attention deficiet. Perhaps it was post traumatic
stress...what ever it was, I did not engage myself into being life affirming
with goal setting and follow-through. I did not prepare for a future. I
feel like I just floated on a sea of uncertainty. No one to talk to, no
one to trust, we each suffered in silent isolation. Experimenting with the
drug using kids was easy. I had no fear of hurting myself. I engaged in
high-risk behaviors. In my 20's I also atempted suicide by an over-dose.
My healing has been a long and winding path. Coming to believe in a merciful,
loving God has brought me here today. I know that God embraced my brother
and brought him home, rather than condemn him for an eternal hell. My brother
was ill. A healthy person would not take their life and the life of a loved
one. God knew his hurting heart better than anyone of us left could ever
comprehend. I forgive my brother for abandoning me. I forgive myself for
not being as kind as I could have been. I still mourn my brother today.
The holidays always bring up the contrast of his absence. Today my husband
put a screen saver on my pc...it is a panda bear. I cried when I saw it.
As, I had shared with my husband that Ken had gotten me a panda bear when
I was 5 yrs old. In time I hope to walk through my pain, and be able to
celebrate my brother's life...by listening to the jazz of Ahmad Jamal, by
skiing Aspen, by travelling back to Mt Vernon, which he shared with me so
enthusiastically, by creating my own art and my own poetry, by donating
my time and energy to destigmatize emotional illness, to prevent suicide
by doing public service awareness work. If I could help one other person,
in memory of my brother, Ken, then both of our lives have meaning.
Death is a given. I pray to learn to live better by acceptance of this fact.
May I live a meaningful life, one in which I memorialize my brother, Ken.
Victoria Bowman
Click Here to read some of our reader's funeral and grief poems.