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Where were all the men?

Andy Pritchard shares his experience of the weekend retreat for parents bereaved by suicide or substance/alcohol use held in July 2023 at Woodbrooke in Birmingham.

"I am a bereaved father. My wife and I are grieving for our youngest son who ended his life in August 2018.

I decided to write that short piece about my experiences of my first retreat with TCF, particularly in the hope of encouraging more men to attend. I would thoroughly recommend it.

I haven’t been involved with TCF before and the thought of spending the weekend at a retreat with other grieving parents seemed crazy at first. Why would I want to put myself on that emotional roller-coaster ride again, especially with a large group of people experiencing their own turmoil?

Having benefitted from some small group therapy after my son died, I decided to embrace the opportunity to tell anyone who would listen about our fabulous son, and if I got upset and cried along the way then I would deal with it. I figured that I needed to take part in the hope that it might make my joyless life more bearable.

I’m not the ‘life and soul of the party’ sort of chap. I’m quiet and I’m quite happy with my own company. Finding myself amongst strangers that I would be with for a couple of days made me more anxious.

We both went up to our room to unpack and take a breath, then into the sunroom for refreshments and a natter.

Without exception, everyone I spoke and listened to was compassionate, completely accepting of me and my grief, and I loved that everyone seemed to understand without explanation.

Where were all the men? There were several of us, but it was clear that most participants were women. From my own experience of the weekend, the ‘men’s group’ session was particularly interesting, and I had an insight (for the first time) into other men’s grief journeys. There were many similarities to my own experiences but also significant differences. I realised then how much I had been missing that connection with other men who had lost their precious children to suicide.

I had the impression that a lot of thought had gone into the various talks, workshops, and activities. Everything I participated in was excellent (especially the Tai-Chi and writing).

I was sad to say goodbye to all the wonderful people I met, and I promised myself I would attend the men’s support day coming up in October".

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Andy has also written some poetry and he has allowed us to share this powerful poem.

Anger

Like a perpetual Clouseau and Kato scene, waiting for the ‘surprise’ attack,

Only, it’s not funny.

It comes creeping like a Ninja,

And it hits like a wave.

All consuming, no escape.

I’ll call it Anger – to give it a name, but that feels inadequate.

I don’t see myself as an angry person,

When the Anger Ninjas strike,

I’m terrified,

Fight, Flight or Freeze?

My legs and mind choose different options, I’m somehow achieving all three at once.

I’ve been mugged, assaulted.

Turned upside down, all that I am, falling from my pockets onto the floor and bouncing away down the pavement. I’m exposed and empty.

Why am I angry?

I’ve been here before, of course, the impossible circular reasoning that comes with suicide.

I’m Angry that you’re gone,

I’m Angry that you’ve shredded my life without permission,

I’m Angry to admit, that life wasn’t as perfect as I pretend, and I didn’t do enough to change,

I’m Angry for all the things I said, didn’t say, did, didn’t do,

I’m Angry with Anger at someone I love,

I’m Angry that I’ll never know….

I’m Angry that I have all this love for you, and I’ll never see you again.