Living with loss at Christmas

"Tim had a tough exterior, but a kind heart, and a great love of football. He was loyal to his friends, and after he died we learnt even more about the ways he had quietly helped people. He was at university when he first became unwell. Looking back, the bruising, the tiredness, the infections, they were all classic signs, but at the time we didn’t know.

"Eventually he was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL) and went through 12 months of treatment. He made remission and tried to get on with life, even changing universities to be closer to home. But after 18 months, he relapsed. He had such a tough time, but he was very strong.

"Christmas had always been special for Tim. Because his brother played football and was often away training, Tim treasured the times we were all at home together. He loved the silliness, the dressing up, and seeing family and friends.

"Tim died in December, on his mum’s birthday. That first Christmas was a blur. It was really, really tough. We’d had his funeral just before, which gave us something to focus on hard as it was. I was grieving; angry, uncertain and exhausted. When you become a parent, you love that baby more than anything, for him to die is the worst thing in the world. During that very dark time I reached out to friends and asked what you should do when all hope is gone. One replied “cling on to love” and I’ve always remembered those words. For the next few Christmases we didn’t feel able to take part. It’s incredibly hard, but you do find a way through.

"Over the years, I’ve noticed the run up to Christmas affects me more than the day itself. The darker evenings, the time of year, it all brings a certain mood. We find ourselves reflecting and talking about Tim more. Grief affects everyone differently, but for me I know there will be moments when I reflect back on the tough times, so I try not to resist it, and to go with it. I’ll spend more time talking to Tim. It’s part of keeping him alive.

"Because he died on his mum’s birthday, Christmas doesn’t begin for us until after then. We don’t put up decorations or do anything festive until then. But afterwards we’ve learnt to try and embrace it. We remind ourselves that Tim would want us to enjoy it.

"One of the most important things we did was plant an apple tree in the churchyard where his ashes were buried. Every Christmas we hang three stars on Tim’s tree. It’s become a ritual for us; we talk to him there and spend time with him.

"The thing about grief is that it’s not a straight line. It’s unpredictable. You never know when something will suddenly hit you. But you learn how not to get stuck in those moments. When you’ve lost a child, you somehow find a way to keep going. For me, doing things in Tim’s memory, keeping busy, fundraising, walking and talking, getting involved in research to make things better for others, helps a lot."

– John