Desperately sad story of the assisted suicide of a grieving mother

Cardamom I have explained, and apologised, and that admonition was really not necessary.

But to try and be clearer, I was trying to say that Wendy was suffering, quote "profound depression utterly beyond reach" tho she described it in a way some use in a trite manner.

think using the word " broken heart" is how she put it, almost trite: but to call it a profound depression utterly beyond reach is what some suffer.

Trite? Wow.

FriedGreenTomatoes2

Oh Motherduck I’m so sorry for the loss of your much loved daughter. You told us your heartfelt story and I hear you. I just wanted to let you know that much. xx

Thank you, that means a lot x

Wyllow3

Thank you for those above who have written so poignantly. I never intended to suggest that Wendy's description of a broken heart was trite: but that some people may think of it as such.

It's because people may describe having been left by a partner, for example, that "my heart was broken". "it broke my heart" that I lost, such and such.

I do appreciate after reading the above that for some it is literally that, not recoverable from, a far more profound reason. I have lost a family member to suicide, as many more have than used to be talked of, because it used to be, and sometimes still is, a matter of shame. It was my grandfather, and his wife my grandmother and my mother never spoke of it.

I didn't even know until my 20's.

It marked by mum forever and explains a lot about how she was as a person and how it affected yet another generation. My grandmother was ashamed, she was that generation. I see no shame just the reality for many.

People do speak of losing their children to physical illness or terrible accidents: but speaking of those lost by suicide, leaving the legacies described upthread, yes, society has problems in finding the space, the words, the understanding: I believe we have problems with something which is actually not unusual, but still, people shy away.

Thanks Willow I do understand what you mean now. I agree, the public who state that they’re ’brokenhearted’ when a famous person passes away when in fact they’re simply misusing the word. I think people find it difficult to talk about… they don’t know what to say.
My Daughter was 28 when she died due to cancer and she was carrying her first baby.

Thank you for those above who have written so poignantly. I never intended to suggest that Wendy's description of a broken heart was trite: but that some people may think of it as such.

It's because people may describe having been left by a partner, for example, that "my heart was broken". "it broke my heart" that I lost, such and such.

I do appreciate after reading the above that for some it is literally that, not recoverable from, a far more profound reason. I have lost a family member to suicide, as many more have than used to be talked of, because it used to be, and sometimes still is, a matter of shame. It was my grandfather, and his wife my grandmother and my mother never spoke of it.

I didn't even know until my 20's.

It marked by mum forever and explains a lot about how she was as a person and how it affected yet another generation. My grandmother was ashamed, she was that generation. I see no shame just the reality for many.

People do speak of losing their children to physical illness or terrible accidents: but speaking of those lost by suicide, leaving the legacies described upthread, yes, society has problems in finding the space, the words, the understanding: I believe we have problems with something which is actually not unusual, but still, people shy away.

And Primrose your anxiety for your son will be with you always as cancer does that it has you on high alert constantly. I feel your pain and I fervently hope your son responds well to his treatment and you can all, in time, receive reassurance from his medical team and be given a degree of peace of mind. xx

Oh Motherduck I’m so sorry for the loss of your much loved daughter. You told us your heartfelt story and I hear you. I just wanted to let you know that much. xx

Just been reading that this lovely lady has passed peacefully, wearing her son’s T shirt in just the way she wanted.
RIP Wendy and hope you are reunited with your Son.

I’m so sorry to hear about your son’s battle Primrose Such a dreadful time for you all.

I am sad too to read about those who have experienced the tragedy of losing a beloved child.

I’m sure there is no pain like it.

Primrose and Motherduck - so, so, sorry

JenniferEccles

Wendy Duffy’s only son died in tragic circumstances four years ago and his mother said her heart was too broken to carry on, so she travelled to Dignitas yesterday.

There will be differing opinions of course but who can decide how much anguish anyone can endure?

I lost my Daughter 5 years ago. I don't know Wendy Duffy, but I know her.

There is a word for a woman who loses her husband. A word for a child who loses their parents. Ancient words, in every language, that carry within them an acknowledgment — this person has suffered. Treat them accordingly.

There is no word for a mother who loses her child.

Think about that. As if the people who built our language looked at that particular grief and decided — no. Some things are beyond naming. Some losses are too large to fit inside a word.

Maybe they were right.

Wendy Duffy is 56, physically healthy, and she’s travelled to Switzerland to die. Not because she is ill. Because her son is gone. Marcus was 23. Four years of therapy later, she says nothing has made her whole again. She has already tried to leave once. This time, she wants it to be, in her own words, neater.

She wants the big windows open so her spirit can be free.

The world is looking at her story and seeing a debate. A controversy. A moral and legal dilemma about assisted dying laws.

I look at her and see a mother.

I see the specific weight of a house that still holds the shape of someone who is gone. I see the 3am silences that are somehow louder than anything — the ones where we scream our children's names and the world hears nothing. I see the years of nodding when well-meaning people say time heals — knowing that time doesn't heal this. It just makes you better at carrying it in public.

I stayed. I am still here, five years later. In that time I have sat with other parents who lost their children, and I can tell you this — what Wendy feels is not rare. It is not a crisis of mental health alone. It is the absolute logical conclusion of a love that has nowhere left to go.

We do not recover from losing our children.

Let me say that plainly, because the world needs to hear it.

We survive, or we don't.

And surviving is not the same as living — not for a long time, and for some of us, not ever in the way we lived before. The person I was before I lost my Daughter died the same day she did. What walks around in her place has learned to function, has found purpose, and has even found moments of joy. But she is not the same woman, and she never will be.

Wendy is not broken. She is bereaved. The difference matters.

I am not here to judge her decision. How could I? I have stood close enough to that edge to understand every step of the road she walked to get there.

She is leaving from love — love for a boy named Marcus, love so total that the world without him has never added up to enough.

There is something in that, if we are honest, that is not so different from the love that keeps the rest of us here. We stay for love too. For the ones still living who need us. For the hope, however fragile, that our children's lives meant something we are still meant to carry forward.

But I will not pretend that staying is simply the stronger choice. It is just a different one.

What I want — what I have always wanted — is for the world to build a place for this grief to exist. To stop expecting bereaved parents to return to a normal that no longer exists for them. To find, finally, the word that says: we see you. We know what you carry. You are not invisible. Your loss does not have an expiration date.

Until that happens, there will be more Wendys. Parents quietly disappearing, one way or another, because no one built a language for what they are — let alone a world willing to hold them in it.

Her name is a mother. Her son's name is Marcus.
My name is a mother too. My Daughter has a name.
They all do.

Willow, to say someone with a broken heart is trite is very unkind, is someone with mental illness or doesn't think a certain way trite? I was truly broken hearted when my husband died, I didnt want to carry on but I had children, she didn't,the joy and reason to live had gone, dreadfully sad she went to that place and died alone it's hard to imagine. . How can anyone know and judge on how a person feels.

I have two friends who have both lost sons to suicide and their pain is unbearable to see. No matter how much support I offer, I still feel helpless that I can't ease their pain. This situation in the papers is so unbelievably sad.

Wyllow3

I think using the word " broken heart" is how she put it, almost trite: but to call it a profound depression utterly beyond reach is what some suffer.

Sadly I know this Mothers pain and yes, her heart is broken, as is mine. Please, never describe this as trite. Unless you walk in our shoes, and I wouldn’t anyone to, it is nigh on impossible for you to understand the actual physical pain of a heart that cannot mend. We stay for the family we still have here, we keep going for them and that’s the unvarnished truth.

Wyllow3

It's not easy to get tablets that can kill yourself for that these days any more: unless you stash really huge amounts of prescription drugs, you'd have to buy illegally on the street.

It's not like in an Agatha Christie novel where one bottle will kill you. It was like that with the older drugs.

They have discontinued the use of some MH related drugs that carried a high risk. Some people will take a huge, huge dose of Paracetamol but you don't just "go to sleep" like imagined: days of pain and extreme symptoms first, for example.

Not easy, but there’s a black market for many drugs.

My sister died very suddenly when she was 30 (I was 24). My mum carried on as a broken woman until she died about 8 years later. I know for a fact that if she had had the chance to opt for assisted suicide she would have taken it. It’s so incredibly sad, and even though I don’t fully agree with it, I understand it.
Primrose💐

Primrose x

Primrose53 ♥️ 💐

Aw, Primrose, .
Many sympathies.

Grief is a terrible and unavoidable human condition.
Dealing with it isn't easy.
I've been told that I ought to got over my father's death.
I haven't.

My heart goes out to this poor woman.
I can only imagine the excruciating pain she's endured since her son died in such tragic circumstances.
As a Christian,taking my life would be a sin,but I understand her.

May she rest in peace.

I can understand how she feels and I hope that by now she is at peace as the story suggests.

My son says he has the Sword of Damocles hanging over him as he deals with pancreatic cancer. Nearly a year now it’s been going on and he and us are emotionally drained.
It’s been non stop tests, scans, long journeys to different hospitals, major surgery, gruelling chemotherapy, blood tests, feeding tubes, exhaustion and stress. I don’t think we have had a completely hospital related week in all that time.

I can well imagine feeling like this poor lady if my son doesn’t make it. We try to stay positive though.

Poor woman - how desperately sad 💔
My faith tells me I will see my parents and my favourite brother again. That keeps me going .
I see my mother a lot in my dreams but not so much my father or my brother.

Threes sons of my own poor woman she must have been devastated.

Of course you can buy enough paracetamol. What I was saying is that it’s not a peaceful painless death like going to sleep.
It results in the failure of key organs and it’s long, slow and painful.
Or as above leaves the person taking it with severe body malfunctions.

Psychiatrists have been factoring this in for a long time, ie withdrawal of drugs the can easily allow a person to take their own life. And non psychiatric drugs that can be life threatening are not given out in big chunks.

Poor woman. It was her only son and she could not see a way out. I can't say she was wrong because she felt so utterly wretched, bereft, and saw no light at the end if the tunnell.