Happiful June 2020

TRUE LIFE
Learning to grieve -
with love, kindness
and forgiveness
Sharon’s world fell apart the day her son took his
own life. She was stuck in a destructive cycle, and
felt completely alone. But with antidepressants,
mindfulness tools, retraining herself with self-care
routines, and the positive inspiration of others around
her, she is learning how to cope, one day at a time...
Writing | Sharon Truesdale
When we lose
someone,
we’re
reminded
that it’s part of the circle
of life, that we should
have faith in loved ones
being in a better place, an
eternal life where we will
all be together again, to
create a picture that death
is tolerable.
What we don’t expect is
that when someone we
love dies, grief begins and
uncontrollable emotions,
thoughts, and behaviours
can take over the life we
once knew. The thoughts
of the circle of life or
heaven sounds wonderful,
but it doesn’t fill the void
or the unbearable pain we
now have in our hearts.
I want to tell you about
my first experiences of
death, and how on that
day the old Sharon died,
too. Everything I was, and
everything I believed in,
no longer existed. For a
long time, the only thing
that survived was the
presence of a body, barely
existing, not living – a
broken spirit.
Before that day, Sharon
was a meticulous,
youth worker in special
education for the
Education Authority for
Northern Ireland. I was a
mother to four beautiful
children – Matthew,
17, Natasha, 15, Annie
Jean, eight, and Daniel,
one. Living alone with
the children had its
challenges, but I loved
my family, and always put
their needs first.
Things began as usual
on Thursday 11 October
2012; the alarm beeped,
and it was time to wake
the girls for school,
and Matthew for work.
Daniel was teething
and, thankfully, was
being looked after by his
father. I went outside
to a detached annex to
wake up Matthew, but as
I opened the door I found
my oldest, first-born son
was dead. He had taken
his own life. My heart
broke, and a part of me
died with him.
Matthew had struggled
with his mental
health from a young
age. Unfortunately,
professional support was
limited – Matthew would
display self-harm, I’d take
him to the doctors, and
a referral was made to a
specialist support service.
With long waiting lists due
to a shortage of resources,
by the time contact
was made Matthew’s
behaviour had improved,
and so no intervention
took place. This was a
repeated pattern.
The May before
Matthew died, we visited
a GP. When they asked
how they could help,
Matthew replied: “Give
me a lethal injection.”
He was referred to Child
and Adolescent Mental
Health Services (CAMHS). >>>
June 2020 • happiful.com • 87