My name is Fran, I’m 25 years old and one year ago my Dad passed away. My name is Fran, I’m 25 years old and six months ago my Mum passed away. This is my story.
The different normal day
My name is Fran, I’m 25 years old and one year ago my Dad passed away.
My Dad lived for 20 years with a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis (MS), so I knew his life would be shortened. But the day he died was a normal Saturday. A Saturday filled with laughter, talking and watching television. Dad died of a pulmonary embolism caused by deep vein thrombosis – a condition that nobody knew he had. Not even the doctor who came to check up on him the previous week. His death was sudden and painful, and I knew I had to be there for my Mum.
Another unbearable loss
My name is Fran, I’m 25 years old and six months ago my Mum passed away.
“We still had so much to do”
My Mum passed away from cancer. They say 1 in 2 of us will be diagnosed with cancer in our lifetimes but I always thought it would never impact me. I was wrong. Mum got brain cancer – two tumours on either side of her brain. We found out about it in May, and three months later she was gone.
I always thought Mum would be with me until I was old and grey as well. We still had so much to do, so much life to share together and memories to keep. The grief can be unbearable – like a constant scream ripping through your head and your body. It’s difficult not to sink into the shadows, the gloom and dark cloud of sadness.
Living with forever now
I am in my twenties – a time when I am supposed to get married, have a family and buy a house – and both of my parents have gone. I have lost the unconditional love and support that came from both my Mum and my Dad; the two people in the world I could tell anything to, show off to or just ring up for a chat. Their hugs were like no other hugs. The way their faces lit up when I saw them was unique.
“Their hugs were like no other hugs”
I work at a school, so every day is different, and children can be a great distraction. They say time will make it better, but I will now live forever with no parents. Sometimes I can’t believe what has happened. I think I try to quash the reality, as the pain is so great, but then I don’t want my Mum and Dad to be forgotten. I hope that talking will improve understanding about death, grief and mental well-being, and that despite them being the ‘elephant in the room’, things will get better.
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