Forever Young: A mother's story of life after suicide by Sharon Truesdale & Sue Leonard

Author:Sharon Truesdale & Sue Leonard [Truesdale, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-14T06:00:00+00:00

8

Shock

After the funeral, when I closed my door, I was left on my own. Nobody visited. And although there were times, I needed to be alone, as the days and first week or two went by, I missed the support of neighbours, friends and family, and especially of the young people. It was hard. One minute the house was bursting at the seams, the next there was a hollow emptiness.

Those were the darkest of dark days. When Natasha and Annie Jean had left for school, I’d go into Matthew’s room, and sit on his bed, in the place where he had died, where I had found him. That moment never left me. It didn’t matter what time I woke up, I would lie in bed, each day, until 7.21am – the time I had found Matthew. I was scared to get up sooner. That continued for years – which was mad, when the clocks had meanwhile changed several times over.

It was torment, imagining his last moments. I’d hold my breath, counting the seconds; trying to work out how long it took him to die. I’d wonder what his last thought had been. Was he thinking of Shanice? Of the baby Bronagh was expecting? Did he stop to wonder, just for a second, how I would feel when I found him? Or was he in such pain that he didn’t think at all?

I’d sit there in a state of numbness, sometimes remaining all day, not moving, until it was time to collect the girls from school and Daniel from day-care. Then I’d dry my tears, find the car keys, and drag myself away.

There were lighter moments. My brother works at sea, but he had flown back for the funeral, returning to his ship soon afterwards. He’d taken a part in the proceedings, and had carried the coffin, but was paired up with someone considerably shorter than he was. When he came home to visit, during those first dark days, he was wearing a wrist support.

‘What have you done to yourself?’

He laughed. ‘I hurt it at Matthew’s funeral.’

‘What? How?’

‘I had to take all the weight to keep the coffin at the right angle,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise that the handles were purely ornamental, and didn’t the handle break off?’

‘What?’ I laughed.

‘So, there I was, trying to balance the coffin with one hand, and screw on the handle with the other.’

Later, returning from his first visit to see Matthew at the cemetery, he said he’d taken flowers. ‘I thought, I’d have a joke with him, and I took him pink roses,’ he said. ‘But when I opened that sachet, they give you to feed the flowers with, it splashed all over my best Hugo Boss shirt.’ He roared with laughter. ‘So, I reckon your Matthew had the last laugh. Typical!’

Great though such moments of humour were, they were few and far between. I hated leaving Matthew’s room, and found it almost impossible to visit the local shops, to see ordinary life going on.

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