When my son-in-law was killed eleven years ago it was my role to support my daughter and her new baby. I accompanied her to RAF Lyneham for the repatriation, stood with her in (Royal) Wootton Bassett as the parade of hearses went by, gave a reading at the funeral, I was at her side as the coffin was lowered into the ground and later I sat with her through two inquest sessions. My husband was a rock throughout and attended to many of the practical matters that needed sorting. For two years it was an awful time; I grieved of course, but it wasn’t about me, so I just got on with what needed to be done.
Now it seems I can’t stop crying at the events of the last few days. I have a permanent lump in my throat and the tears are never far away, my eyes are red and swollen with weeping, I can’t even have a conversation about Afghanistan without breaking down. I know that my daughter is having a similar experience and I can’t quite understand how, after eleven years, it can suddenly be so raw again.
My son-in-law was only 26 when he died. He was funny with a really dry sense of humour, very clever, physically super-fit, and he really was a natural leader; his men adored him. Our grandson recently came to stay and is now showing some of his dad’s traits - he has a genuine interest in people and asks insightful questions, and he has his dad’s habit of only just staying on the right side of cheekiness.
I am finding it unbearably sad that this young man, a new daddy, and with his whole life ahead of him, died so senselessly. Literally, there is no sense in what happened to him - or to so many others. I am so sad and angry.
Has anyone else experienced this kind of belated grief? How did you get through it?
