Survivor Support
Enid Morton
It is now almost ten years since the knock that we all dread came to our door, in the early house of May 8th 1995. "Mrs Edwards?" asked the yound policeman. Thank goodness he's mistaken. "No. I'm Mrs Morton." "But you have a daughter Sandra?" Of course, she'd married and she's Mrs Edwards. "I'm sorry to tell you there's been an accident ..." How many of us have heard those fatal words? Our only child Sandra died following an horrific accident while pursuing a stolen car. Life support was turned off on May 10th 1995, the day before her 29th birthday. I had her birthday card with me.
How were we going to survive without her? I remember the words spoken to me by a dear friend, who had lost two children to cystic fibrosis, and was widowed at an early age. You think you will never survive that first day, but you do. You think you will never survive your child's funeral, but you do. You think you will never survive that first birthday, first christmas, first anything, but you do. You think you will never want to laugh again, go on holiday again, sing again, but you do. I stopped singing for so long that I can no longer hit the high notes!
About six weeks after Sandra's death, a well meaning friend said: "Well, I expect you are starting to get over it now." That will never happen, will it? You never get over something like this, but you do try to live with it. Many of you who I have been fortunate enough to meet at COPS weekends will have heard me quote words that sum up my and my husband Tom's feelings. Time does not heal, it makes a scar that is easily broken. When that scar breaks and this can be at any time, the tears come.
In the beginning, Tom and I cried together, of course we still do as I am still fortunate to have a wonderful husband and soul mate, but we found that in our grief and feeling for each other, we were pulling each other down into an abyss of despair. At times like this I can understand how one can want to end it all and go and join our lost loved ones. So Tom and I made a pact that at such times, we would find a place to be alone to give vent to our grief, and then come back together, when we were calmer, for comfort.
We try to live our lives the way Sandra would want us to. While not great church goers, we still have great faith that one day we will all three be back together again, and we pray each night to be given the strength to carry on as we always have. I often hear Sandra saying "Go for it Mam!"
I think this is the first time I have put my feelings down on paper. We all grieve in different ways, and I hope some of what I have said may be a comfort and help to my fellow survivors, because that is what we are, and hard thought it is, I feel we must try to move forwards, and be there to help each other do the same. Remember, keep talking about your loved ones. I believe you have not lost them, just parted from them for a while.
Enid Morton
