Ian’s Story

I experienced grief very early on in my life, I was 21 years old. At that time, you feel that you can take on the world and nothing can stop you. You don’t think very much of death or whether it’s going to affect you.

My brother was killed in a road traffic incident in Germany whilst serving with the RAF on 20^th December 1984. I found out the next day. One of the abiding memories I have is of ‘Last Christmas’ playing on the radio and two uniformed officers walking up the path of my parents’ house. I was the only one in and that was when they told me that my brother had been killed in an accident. I had to then accompany the officers to tell my father at work- not something you really prepare for at that age.  Then we had to go from there to where my mother worked to tell her- the guttural scream as she sank to her knees has never left me.

You would like the world to stop but it doesn’t

I thought I was immortal and I believed my brother was too. Suddenly, the world and all its possibilities were no longer ours. When a tragedy like this strikes, it just knocks you sideways, with your once clear picture of a shared future no longer there.

I had taken leave because I was going to spend a few days with him in Germany before flying back for the Christmas holidays and I wasn’t able to get a flight. Guilt was immediate and stayed with me. Given that it was over the Christmas period when this happened, it amplified everything as you’re surrounded by people celebrating and looking forward to both the festivities and the New year. It was incredibly difficult.

Nobody was prepared on how to deal with it

We were subject to media intrusion immediately as local papers became aware of the tragedy. We had press turn up on the doorstep. We didn’t want to speak to them because we wanted to keep it private, but they still published something. On top of this, there was also quite a few logistical things my father was trying to sort out, particularly around repatriating his body. Because we had made this request it also meant that an official Coroner’s inquest would have to take place. Again this proved to be both complicated and challenging to arrange over the Christmas period, especially when all are consumed with grief.

You just don’t know what you’re doing, you have no guidance. It was also of a time when there was still a lot of stoicism with regards to how you react and what you do when you’re completely overcome with grief. I had a good friend network, but we were all young and nobody was prepared on how to deal with it.

By keeping it to yourself, you’re benefitting nobody

For years I was a functioning person on the outside but literally falling apart on the inside. Looking back now, I can understand how not talking about things and holding them in can have a detrimental effect on both you and those around you. By keeping it to yourself, you’re benefitting nobody. You’re not going through any sort of healing process. You’re holding it all in, and the pressure within just keeps building relentlessly.

You look back and think “why did I react that way?” My friends pulled me out of numerous volatile situations because I didn’t know when to stop drinking, I was an absolute loose cannon. I realise now there was this absolute mass of emotion that was all bubbling up inside me with no release, and that’s why I’d end up doing the most ridiculous things. Situations like that can be avoided because you can talk and open up about these things.

I could start to understand my grief a bit more

I was just trying to go on as normal but the impact of my grief was compounding issues with me. I’m married and have four children. I’m lucky to have a brilliant, very understanding wife but it must have been terrible for her because at certain times of the year I would go into myself and take myself away. It happened that we were both listening to music one day when the song ‘Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of,’ came on, it was then that my wife quietly said to me “that’s you, you’re stuck in a moment,” and that was when I recognised, I needed to do something.

I read many of things online so I could start to understand about grief in more detail – especially sibling grief which is something that isn’t always understood or talked about. Doing this helped me to understand how this had changed the dynamics in the family and not only how you react but how people react to both you and your family.

It also helped to see that I could be more positive about things. I learnt that you can be sad, sad is normal, but you can also be positive about what you had with them and what you still have moving forward. I now believe at 62 years old that I’m a fortunate man. I had a brother and he remains with me always. Although we had but a limited time together it was an incredible time with so much love, laughter and life.

I talk openly about my grief now

It has taken me years to come to terms with the bereavement not only of my brother but two close friends who both died young and within a short time my brother. I’m in a much better place now and that’s through moving forward from that point where I never felt could. Yes you’re still blind-sided sometimes when you’re reminded of certain things but by talking openly about grief, it allows you to both understand and heal.

It was very difficult before; I’d withdraw into myself and that wouldn’t help anybody. It didn’t help close relationships with my family, with my wife and my children. But now I speak openly about it to my friends, children and my wife. I would now say I’m in place of reconciliation and I think a big part of that is because of the people close to me who stood by me through all that time of misunderstanding until I finally took the time to recognise my grief.

We need to ensure grief never becomes a taboo subject

With support, both me and my family could have found the direction we so desperately needed to navigate and understand our grief. Instead, for many years we only moved as rudderless vessels without direction. We desperately needed help and we didn’t know how to access it. That’s why organisations like Cruse are so important.

We need to ensure grief never becomes a taboo subject and that it remains an open conversation. We’ve all got to talk, and I think it has to be seen that more men, and more men of a certain age begin to open up, express their feelings and grieve without any preconceived idea of how this should be done.

My name is Ian and I am now 62 years old, I grieve, I understand why, I talk – and I am a fortunate man!