Beyond the 1st year

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By Frances Beck

The first anniversary of Conor leaving this earthly plane has come and gone. And quite frankly, I don’t feel any different to the way I did beforehand. There was no lifting of the grief as some people might expect. Don’t get me wrong, it was a difficult and completely exhausting couple of weeks. But it was made easier with the support of my rocks. The lead up and anticipation was harder than the actual anniversary dates themselves, as has come to be normal practice. No one tells you just how exhausting grief can be.

Comfort being with others

On the 14th, the day he physically left us, I went to Dundee to visit a couple of Conor’s most loved places. And I spent a few hours with some of his close friends. His close friends who grieve as deeply as I do and I hope can see that there is no fault here. It was definitely the best thing I could have done on the day, as we all found comfort in being together.

On the 15th, the day he was found, I spent the evening with loved ones, again finding comfort in the company of each other. However, I spent those 48 hours clock watching, very aware of what had happened at what time. And, just as significantly, what hadn’t happened at different points. What did help me though, was having a focus other than my grief. That’s not to say I tried to ignore the grief because I made sure I made room for it and allowed myself to feel it all. But it wasn’t my only focus. That definitely helped me cope.

We need self-forgiveness

When we lose a loved one, particularly when they’ve apparently ‘chosen’ to end their life, we tend to focus on everything that we ever did ‘wrong’ in our own eyes. We become weighed down with the guilt that ensues. This only adds to the already enormous weight of the grief that we feel. All the great times and things that we know we did ‘right’ get pushed to the side somewhat. I wish I had some sort of ‘magic’ solution that could instantly exorcise that guilt, but sadly I don’t. It’s a process that starts with the acknowledgement that you are being unjustly harsh on yourself. And it requires a lot of self-forgiveness and acceptance.

You need to remember that forgiving doesn’t mean accepting that it was right. I can almost guarantee though that our loved ones in spirit have a much more balanced picture. And are much more aware and forgiving of our humanness than we are.

Hoping to make a positive difference

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Conor wants me, and everyone else he loved, to live our best lives, just as he did in life. I’ve said often that I feel compelled to try to prevent or at least reduce poor mental health and suicide. And I’m making good inroads. I’m continuing to campaign with the Mental Health Foundation Scotland. And I have been invited to the Scottish parliament to help them promote their Make It Count campaign.

I have other things in the pipeline too, about which I hope to be able to report good news soon. Despite my profound heartache, or perhaps because of it, I need to keep pushing myself to make a positive difference to ensure that other young people don’t suffer the same fate as Conor. And that mental health problems are prevented or at the very least reduced by effective education and early intervention. I need for there to be something positive to come from all of this, with Conor continuing to help other people as he did in life.