Eight Months Since You Left This World

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By Frances Beck

Eight months. Eight whole months! I’m no longer counting the days or the weeks since that fateful, devastating day that you left this world. Although I feel every day that passes so painfully clearly. Eight months ago the bottom fell completely out of my world. I had no idea how I was going to be able to survive this and yet here I am surviving. I have kept on keeping on and that seems to be the key. Don’t get me wrong, I have days where keeping on keeping on is the very last thing that I want, or even feel able, to do. But I show up all the same.

Depending on how strong I am feeling, showing up may only involve rolling out of my bed and spending the day in front of the TV in my pjs with only myself for company. But I always make my bed so that if I don’t manage anything else that day, I’ve done at least one thing. And regardless of how messy everything seems, I can climb into a tidy bed at the end of the day. A small and seemingly insignificant, daily goal that makes a real difference to me and my sanity.

On other days, I am able to push myself a bit harder and can function a bit better. But there are days where I’m more visible to the world, days that you are more likely to see me out and about. Those are the days when I’m fighting the hardest.

Living with the loss every day

There seems to be some expectation that eight months down the line, I should be getting over it. Or that what happened is in the past and I should be moving forward away from it. All I can say to that is unless you have lost a child, and in particular lost a child to suicide, you cannot possibly have any real understanding. Yes, I lost Conor to suicide eight months ago. But I live with that loss every single day, and I will continue to live with it until my very last breath.

Every day I wake up to the same realisation that Conor is no longer physically with us today. It doesn’t get easier, as I’ve said before. And if anything it gets harder because I really do miss him more every day. I am, however, learning to live with it and am getting better at making room for it. It is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do change it regardless of how much I want to, or what I would give to do so. What I can do, is to try to make the world a better place to try to stop other people reaching that point of extreme desperation. I couldn’t save Conor, but maybe I can help to save others.