Compassion, Spring 2024

23 tcf.org.uk I went off to university at 19 and the first thing I did there is not tell a soul. The past five years of my life had been defined by Nikki’s suicide and loss. It had changed my mum and dad, my brother, and me. And I wanted my life back. I didn’t want to be defined by it any longer. But of course, not telling people doesn’t solve the problem. I was still a bereaved sibling, even if I didn’t want to be. As someone once said, reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away. And the grief didn’t go away. I remember Robin being really angry with Nikki when she died, because he was 17, just starting out and full of fun, and he felt she’d taken away his ability to be young and happy. I have to say, he managed to find ways to be young and happy. He fought pretty hard for that. But we were both carrying an enormous amount of sadness and also that shadow that comes along with you with suicide, which is: why. Is it my fault. How could this happen to our family. Nikki’s death changed our relationship, me and Robin. Before Nikki died, Rob and I were playmates. After she died, we were comrades in the trenches, we were surviving together. We were the only two who really understood. To read more of Rachael’s story please go to: tcf.org.uk/forgottenmourners Hands Jonah Weiss – written for his sister, Emily, who died 12 years ago. The next TCF overnight for bereaved siblings (18 years+) is Saturday 27 – Sunday 28 April. More details on page 33. When I think to the past Where we grew up too fast Two children that grew up as one Every hug every kick every giggle and lick! You and me two sides of a coin Secret walks in the dark Snowball fights in the park Normal things that two normal kids do But you had places to be just not down here with me A destination for one not for two I don’t think I could stop you God knows that I’d want to But when I think of you out there alone I’d have sat by your side As the two of us cried And held on to your hand as you go Every place that I visit Every person I meet One hand will always stay free And when all goes to black And there’s no going back Maybe an outstretched hand I will see … Because I know you’d keep it open for me COMPASSION | FEATURE - FORGOTTEN MOURNERS - SIBLING GRIEF & POEM, HANDS