Sharon Truesdale - Forever Young: A mothers story of life after suicide

FOREVER YOUNG

A MOTHERS STORY OF LIFE AFTER SUICIDE

By Sharon Truesdale

With Sue Leonard

The Authors

Sharon Truesdale studied law before becoming a qualified youth worker, currently working in the area of special education. She is the mother of Matthew, who died by suicide aged 17, and of Natasha, Annie-Jean and Daniel. She lives in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

A journalist and ghost writer, Sue Leonard is the co-author of two recent number one bestsellers: Whispering Hope : The True Story of the Magdalene Women (Orion 2015) and An Act of Love with Marie Fleming, recounting Maries extraordinary life and fight for the right to die with dignity. (Hachette Ireland, 2014). She has worked on five other books as a ghost writer, two, for Penguin Ireland were best sellers. Sue is the author of Keys to the Cage (New Island, 2010)

Remembering Matthew James Truesdale

rd April 1995 11 October 2012

Loved and Remembered Everyday

Preface

On October 11 th , 2012, my son, Matthew, hung himself in his bedroom. In that moment, everything changed. The old Sharon Truesdale died along with seventeen-year-old Matthew, and the new one struggled to find a way to live. Dragging myself through the first difficult hours, days, weeks and months, I learned that grief was a roller-coaster ride. Opening my eyes each day, I never knew what to expect. This book is for anyone who, like me, thinks that through their grief, they are going mad.

Suicide, in Northern Ireland, is all too common. In 2012, when Matthew died, there were 318 registered deaths by suicide in Northern Ireland, (though some of these died earlier.) And in the 10 years before that, deaths by suicide averaged 274, so there are many other grieving relatives.

Ive written this book to help others who, like me, had never experienced a loss, or understood what grief actually was. The existing books I read which highlighted the stages of grief made some sense, yet my feelings, actions and behaviours seemed extreme. Was that because losing a child to suicide made my experience more traumatic? I dont know.

Every day I wondered how I was going to survive until nightfall living with the immense pain I carried, thinking, always, of the moment that I found my son. Would the pain ever lessen? What did it all mean?

The book is also a celebration of Matthews short life and explores the elements that led him to take this drastic step. And I look at the services available to him, and how they fell short. Had different measures been taken, could my son have been saved?

Prologue.

I awoke, as usual, to the beep of my alarm clock. It was six-thirty on Thursday 11 th October, and it was time to get up for work, but, zapping the alarm, I didnt move. Im a disciplined person, and my routine, every day, is to leap out of bed cross the corridor and wake my younger daughter, Annie Jean, then my elder one, Natasha, so that theyll be ready for school. But that morning I could not move. Something wasnt right.

The alarm was set to snooze, and every seven minutes it beeped its impatience. Each time, muffling it, I continued to lie there, staring at the ceiling, noticing, with irritation, a cobweb in the corner. It wasnt until the clock said seven twenty-one that I realised I simply must get up. I thought, if I dont, Ill be late for work.

I didnt go and wake the girls. Ive no idea why. Instead, breaking my routine, I made for the stairs. Normally, the first thing I do when I get downstairs is switch on the kettle. But not that day. Instead, bypassing it, I opened the door and let out Buster, our new puppy. Then I made my way towards Matthews room, a specially converted garage. Ive no idea why. At 17, Matthew had left school. He had a job, but as he started at nine, was able to sleep until 8.0clock. All I know is that when I opened the door, everything changed. And changed forever.

I could see straight into Matthews room; and I saw him, my firstborn son, sitting at the foot of his four-poster bed. He was staring straight at me, his dark brown eyes fixed, his head at an unnatural angle. And I knew, instinctively, that he was dead. Fearful, I stood as still as a sculpture. Frozen; my eyes fixed on him.

What have you done Matthew, I whispered. Im trained in first aid, but I cant help you. I cant help you if youre not breathing. It was obvious that he had strangled or hung himself, and though I was horrified, I didnt scream. I couldnt.

Had I suspected something was wrong? Was that why I had stayed lying in bed to put off the moment when my life would change? I dont know the answer to that.

I went calmly up the stairs, collected Annie-Jean, and brought her into my bedroom. Then I collected Natasha. Dont go downstairs, I said. Just stay here. Did they ask me why? Did they wonder why I wasnt shouting at them to get ready for school? I cant remember, but I didnt tell them about Matthew. And I didnt cry. How could I, when I was frozen in time?

Downstairs again, I rang 999. My son is dead, I said, when a womans voice answered. He killed himself. My words sounded flat and remote it was as if my voice had detached itself from my emotions.

Do you want an ambulance?

I thought, what a stupid question. Hadnt she heard what I said? I dont think an ambulance will help.

Would you like the police to come?

I sighed. I could no more make decisions at that moment than dance a gig. Just send who you want, I said. Nothing can help him now.

PART ONE: BEFORE

How it Started

From the first time I saw Matthew from the time I first held him in my arms, its always been him and me. It was brilliant having a baby boy, the first grandchild. He was just my boy. The baby I had hoped and planned for.

Whatever happened afterwards; whatever we both went through; it was us against the world. I never doubted that. A few months before he died, when his girlfriend asked him who he loved most in the whole world, she expected him to say it was her; but he said he loved me best; his mum.

I was equally smitten with Matthews dad James when I first caught sight of him. I was nineteen years old with my whole life ahead of me, and everything seemed possible. I was in Sleepers Nightclub in Antrim with Julie, a friend since primary school, and it was the place to be on a Saturday night. Julie saw him first. Dont look now, she said, but theres a guy over there who cant take his eyes off you.

Of course, I looked over straight away, and she was right. This handsome, dark haired guy was staring at me, and when he noticed me looking at him, his face relaxed into a huge grin. He sauntered over with a swagger and told me his name was James. He was lovely! Easy to talk to, and charming. I noticed other prettier girls giving him the eye, and I couldnt believe he had chosen me.

We arranged to spend the next evening together, and from then on, we were inseparable. James was working for the Antrim Council at the time, doing garden maintenance. We'd meet in his lunchbreak, and would wander around, holding hands.

We spent the whole summer together. I had been in Middlesbrough, in the North of England for the past year. I was studying law at Teesside University, but was considering chucking it in, a decision that seemed inevitable after Id met James. I was enjoying the course but had found it hard to make friends. Im half Chinese and there, away from my family, I felt that nobody accepted me. As I wasnt white, I wasnt accepted into the white community but I wasnt accepted into the Chinese community either. And at the end of the summer, I couldnt bear the thought of leaving James and going back to that loneliness. It would be so much harder now that I had someone to miss. I thought James was my saviour.

I expected James to be happy for me to stay, but he surprised me.

Dont rush into a decision, he said. You worked so hard to get on that course; it would be a shame to chuck it all now.