This Club that No One Wanted to Join

I remember taking this photograph a little over a year after my son died. Just as I chose to journal my anguished thoughts in the intensity of early loss, something told me I should record them, just once, in picture-form. I wanted to get everything in the frame, me (still in the early stages of deeply grieving for my child) holding tightly to my puppy, Sonny (who was something of a life-raft to me at this time) and the photo of Dom and his siblings (the family which had so inexplicably blown-up in front of me.)

If you’re a bereaved parent, you most likely recognise the look on my face. Do the words for it actually exist? Hollowed out, heart-broken, utterly despairing…can any of these really describe the depths of sorrow we feel when our child has left us?

I’m in the sixth year of this loss and I want to start by saying that it DOES GET BETTER. I think that it’s particularly important to tell newly bereaved parents this. Because we who are further down the line are really the only ones who can genuinely offer this much-needed hope.

Remembering how alone I’d felt in my grief in the early days inspired me to write this piece, re-posted from my first year on Substack…

Closing the Gap...

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June 13, 2025

Fear. That was probably my over-riding emotion after Dom took his life.

It’s fair to say that, at this point in my writing, for much of the time I was focusing on the specifically complicated loss of a child to suicide, but, as I did come to realise, what I was most desperate for was what all bereaved parents need, which is to have our profound grief at losing our child witnessed. Unfortunately the reality can look very different: too often we sense that others find our distress very uncomfortable and so we learn to hide it. But of course this then creates an intensely painful secondary loss: only by pretending to be something we’re really not (‘okay’) do we still get to experience that most basic of human needs, a sense of belonging.

I wrote this piece from the place of wanting to find a solution to this painful dilemma. And a recognition that the ‘gap’ which so often opens between us and others in our lives may well cause its own unhappiness for them, too. As such, it’s about the possibility that those who care about our well-being can learn how to support and respond to our tragedy in ways which actually help us to stay connected.

My second repost today marked a bit of a turning-point. Whilst not invalidating my points in ‘Closing the Gap’ (because I still did and do believe that others can make positive changes in their approach which can make a massive difference to how effectively they support us) in this piece I conceded to the fact that no-one who hasn’t lost a child can really know how it feels. And as such, finding ourselves a Tribe is one of the most helpful things we can do.

But this wasn’t the only turning point, at this stage in my Substack journey. Although in my real life I’d already helped create a local support group specifically for parents who’d lost a child to suicide, responses to my writing from parents who’d lost their child for so many other reasons had made me aware that I was in a MUCH BIGGER group than I’d ever realised. That I’d now found the Tribe where I truly felt I belonged…

Finding My Tribe

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June 25, 2025

At the end of my last post I questioned whether it is unrealistic to expect others who haven’t lost a child to ‘really get it.’ I think it’s well worth considering this, and the answer will form the basis of my writing today.

So much to read! Whether you’ve read through both of these re-posts or homed-in on the one which most spoke to you, I hope you’ve found something amongst all my words which has been helpful in navigating the loss of your own precious child. And if you’re someone who is reading from the vantage point of wanting to support a bereaved parent I would like to offer these closing words of advice…

Give us space to tell the truth of how we’re feeling, rather than unintentionally placing demands on us to minimise it for your comfort.

Welcome the times when we talk about our child, because we register this as their existence still mattering and it means everything to us now.

Having our profound grief witnessed (instead of feeling you’re trying to ‘fix’ us) is vital to our recovery and, since it is the best gift you can give us, we will never forget that you stepped up for us in this way.

As always, I want to acknowledge how very hard life will be right now for any parents who have only just recently joined this Club. If you haven’t yet discovered my other publication, Tears, Tools and Treasure, perhaps reading accounts from other parents who have lost a child will be helpful. The link is here: Tears, Tools and Treasure.

My aim in all my writing is to share my journey in ways which help other parents navigating child loss feel less alone. Posts are free…but if you wish to show support, I always appreciate new subscribers and any sharing of my work. The buttons are below, thank you.

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Unless otherwise stated, every word in this post is my own. No form of AI was used to produce it as I believe in the importance of lived experience and authentic expression.