Tu me manues

The French say it so much better..tu me manques – you are missing from me! It is 25872 hours since you have been missing from me Luke. I have not thought of you every single hour that you have been gone, nevertheless, I have felt that you have gone in the very core of my […]

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Scary Place

The world outside becomes  a scary place when you are broken and no longer sure of who you are anymore. Once away from the comfort and security of home  – anything can happen and at first frequently did. Each of us has a tale to tell as we fled back home wondering, ‘How come I […]

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Renovation

When Luke moved back home with us to our two bedroom lodge in early December 2015 we were sorely short of space for his belongings. He was not a hoarder and after several accommodation moves and an adventure of working in Cyprus, he had very few possessions. He like quality items but was not overly […]

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The Gulf

Those words…”Luke’s dead” created a gulf, a gaping chasm between me and parents who have never heard those words. I have caring people around me who willingly walk along the bridge that separates us but there’s a gap on the bridge that they cannot negotiate, no matter how they try. I do not want them […]

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Hierarchy of grief..

“One day the colours will come back” – Watercolour by Keith J C Lavelle A mother’s grief, it seems, is easier to feel empathy with – somehow everyone can key into it. Scenes of wailing mothers at gravesides as their child is lowered to their final resting place is a stab at anyone’s heart strings […]

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Trajectory to Disaster

When death is by suicide you can be as sure as hell, that the survivors of the bereavement will trace every path, and life choice of the deceased to find an explanation. I am told there is a series on Netflix “Thirteen Reasons Why” that does exactly this although, I believe that the family involved […]

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Stories to tell…

There are a finite number of stories to tell, Evoked by a song, a joke or a smell. They are in people’s memories hidden away, That’s not where I want those stories to stay. My own are illusive, my mind needs a poke, Often I can’t even remember the way that he spoke. I want […]

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