Acceptance and my challenge to you

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SB Frances Beck

I miss my boy more than I could ever express in words. And that doesn’t ever get easier, only harder as time goes on. Grief is a funny thing. There are times where I expect to be really upset and I’m not. But other times where there’s no particular trigger and I completely break down. I’ll never forget what Conor looked like because I have so many photographs to remind me. But I do worry that I’ll forget the sound of his voice. I can still hear his voice in my head, and I know that I’d always be able to pick it out in a crowd. But I really do worry that as time gallops by, his voice is becoming muffled. That may seem trivial but it’s distressing all the same.

Acceptance - We're approaching 15 months now since he left us (yes still counting). And there's still a small part of me that can't accept that he's really gone.

We’re approaching 15 months now since he left us (yes still counting). And there’s still a small part of me that can’t accept that he’s really gone, that this is all just a nightmare that I’ll wake up from.

Learning to live with it

I’ve been told on numerous occasions that it will get better, but never by another parent whose child has died. And in particular never by another parent whose child died by suicide. I’ve come to the conclusion that it won’t ever get easier and I accept that. I just have to do the best I can and learn to live with it, and I think I’m doing that. Losing anyone you love to suicide brings a deeper and more complicated grief than them dying by any other way. But to lose your baby by suicide brings a full mélange of feelings and guilt. So I accept that it is what it is and that it’s not likely to get any better. Short of Conor miraculously coming back to life. Which as much as I can hope and dream, isn’t going to happen.

There is so much to be done to improve mental health across society. I am trying very hard to make a change to prevent or at least reduce the impact of mental health problems in young people. And to raise awareness and reduce the stigma associated with mental health. I desperately want to prevent other people from reaching that point of absolute despair and to stop other families from having the nightmare we now do. That is helping me to process my grief and to try to turn our tragedy into something positive.

Conor was a great friend and confidante, trying his best to support his friends and loved ones when they needed it, at times to his own detriment. He was always wise beyond his years. And I know in my heart that he would be willing for me to try to help other people in his name.

Keeping going

I’m not sure any of that makes anything easier but it does help me to keep going when the hardest moments hit. It’s not an easy road to travel though, with barriers of varying kinds at every turn. I’ve had a couple of knocks this week that made me realise just how easy it is to become despondent and wonder if it’s all worth it. In the midst of which I was gifted with a tiny white feather (Conor’s calling card) landing on my lap. I know it is all worth it. But I can completely understand why anyone could be become consumed by all the negatives in life. Humans seem to be pre-programmed to focus on the one negative amongst ten other positives.

If you are weary of the negatives in your life, I challenge you to find and write down ten positives in your life. They are there, whether it be from having food on your plate and a roof over your head to simply having woken up this morning. Then focus on those. That’s what helps me gain perspective when I’m feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. It could very well be the difference between wanting to keep up the fight or not. The fight really is worth it, and so are you.