Compassion Summer 2021

Summer 2021 - Compassion | www.tcf.org.uk 13 sibling it feels like you lose your identity in some ways. You lose your past. Who you were in the family vanishes. It can feel like losing your self. You lose aspects of the future - like being together through the loss of your parents one day. Being the last one left of my birth family is my particular nightmare. One of the good things is that over the years my parents and I have talked a lot about grief and a lot about death. The first time, when Nikki died, it was very hard. We were laying new territory on a completely new and terrifying map. The second time we had the landmarks. In some ways, we supported each other better. We talked better. I feel I can say what I need to about death and grief to both my parents now, and that feels like a real source of strength for me. (If I was going to give any advice on the basis of my experience, which is dangerous ground, I would say, try to have the difficult conversations.) I wasn’t prepared for how overwhelmed I would feel by losing them both. It was as if Nikki had died all over again when Robin died. I found it very difficult to speak at all, let alone speak about losing them. Two things really helped me: I saw a therapist. That enabled me to go back and find words for some of the things I hadn’t been able to understand as a child, when Nikki died. Finding words helped. The second thing is that as an adult, I realised I didn’t have to sit alone with this. I went in search of other bereaved siblings. There was nothing via TCF at the time, but I went to a TCF National Gathering and there happened to be six other bereaved siblings who had come with their parents. We got together in a room for one hour, and that hour was a turning point for me. I was able to say what had happened. I could barely say the words, but I did, and felt understood and I’m sure it was similar for the others in that room. From there I became involved in TCF providing peer support for siblings. We started with an overnight retreat, which became an annual thing. Now we have monthly online zoom groups, which I help to facilitate. I don’t actually need those online zoom groups any more. Grief has been part of my life since I was 14 and sometimes I’d quite like it not to be. But I never want to feel that lonely again. And I don’t want anyone else to feel that lonely either. And I know now that you don’t have to be. Grief is personal, and sometimes it is very, very solitary. But being understood is powerful medicine. For me, it helped transform a paralysing experience into something I could live with. It made it possible to find a purpose again. A couple of years after Rob died I started my own family, which really was a triumph of hope over experience. I also started writing and I now write for the theatre, and love that. So there was life after death. It’s different, and I’m different. Some of me is someone Nikki and Robin would recognise. In other ways I think I’d surprise them. I find my life now engaging and hopeful, and I still grieve - because I still love. And I’m very grateful to everyone I’ve shared the road with along the way. Rachael Claye I wasn’t prepared for how overwhelmed I would feel by losing them both. It was as if Nikki had died all over again...