Bereaved mother, writing it all down
Louise Dillon Bennett 
It has been one year and two months since Fred died, and it is my second #NationalBereavedParentsDay. That seems an extraordinary thing to write, but there it is. In that time, I have relied on the strength and grace of those that were bereaved before me, and have seen others follow. I have also seen … Read more
I’m running the Great North Run. It’s 13 bloody miles! That is considerably further than I’ve ever run before and considerably further than I can run at the moment. The past few years have not been kind to my body. Actually the months of sitting in hospitals weren’t too bad – I got my steps … Read more
When crisis hits, people want to be helpful but don’t know what to do. It’s often best to ask someone who does.
And so now, what of the snow? We awake to see the ground covered and the flakes still falling. It’s crisp layer only seems to amplify the silence in the house, a soft blanket of sadness.
Christmas is so often about the gaps, the ones we try and mask with tinsel and hope that the dim light of the tree means we can’t see too clearly what is missing: the people we have lost, the life that we ordered.
I’ve known so many Christmas Carols, from The Muppets to Owen Meany.
“Which ghost are you?
This is the place that you have always known, this village, these woods. They remain the same and yet they are forever changed, now you’re not here to sculpt them. The shop on the corner is still there, but now Liz looks a bit scared when I walk in. The paperboys come to return their … Read more
You never think it will happen to your family until it does.
Suddenly we were locked down. Our holiday was cancelled, Fred’s central line meant he could no longer go swimming. We were not allowed to travel anywhere more than 30 minutes from our hospital. I carried a thermometer in my handbag to check for temperatures.
There’s a poem, that I’ve forgotten the name of, about changing the sheets. It contains a line about the poet’s mother “the smell of clean washing is hers” I think of this every time I change the bed. I use the same washing powder that my mother used to, just for the smell. When I … Read more
