150 magnificent years our institution has stood tall. From the 4 young lads who dared to dream back then to the hundreds of thousands of us who have dared to dream this week in Seville.
With every great battle, there can only be one victory. Frankfurt, whilst not the powerhouse they once were in the 1960s were still a colossal name. They had a magnificent tournament. Not one defeat as well as dumping Barcelona and West Ham seen them as worthy winners. 1 penalty all that separated us should tell you all you need to know about the character and resolve of our club. We will never get closer to winning.
I was fortunate to witness the match in Seville. How do we get there? As the song says? For me you have to go back to 2009, the year we had last won the Scottish Cup. Let me tell you how it all came full circle.
2009 was the year everything changed for me. In May I became a Father for the 1st time. Living in shawlands, newly married. It should have been the start of the great adventure. It was the beginning but not as I envisaged. My only Son was born asleep in May 2009.
As a Father I found life rough. I had to live up to stereotype and be string when truthfully I was broken. It was 3 days later that my boyhood heroes would show me some hope. In the pouring Rain, Steven Davis scored a winner that would seal our 1st title in 4 years. I cried, I smiled. I had an outlet.
The following years I found heart and salvation with Rangers. My sons namesake came to life every May and fired us to 2 more titles. It was a coincidence alright but one that gave me hope when I needed anything. Kyle Lafferty was My hero back then.
Despite the horrors of 2012, I had found a renewed connection with the club I’d loved since a small child. My heart was healing again. 2013 then delivered another devastating blow as my wife had to battle cancer at 26. Again it was a case of batten down and fight. Fight with everything. And fight she did. Recovering from life threatening illness.
My Daughter was now getting older and the time came for that moment every parent dreams of if you are a Rangers fan. Her first game at our sacred home. Queen of the South, May 2015 in a playoff. Not the glamour and glitz I was brought up on in the 9iar era. But an important part of our history regardless as we sought redemption. A forgettable game for most. Unforgettable for me taking my child to her 1st match. 5 years old and she had caught the bug.
2016 we got our 1st season books together. A dream come true. A 3rd was added so she could take a friend. The club kindly put in my sons name so I could say both my children had a seat together at Ibrox. It was a moment of kindness that stayed with me and would play a part in events to come. 2016 would also see my daughter lead out the Famous Glasgow Rangers on remembrance weekend. Being an Ex Raf Serviceman, it was spine tingling seeing her take the minute silence on the field.
That same month I began volunteering for a Child Loss Charity and on a training weekend met a gentleman called Robert. He had lost his daughter Sofia recently and we instantly connected. Discovering a shared love of Rangers, a bond would be on the making like no other.
Over the next couple of years, Robert would go on to have a Son, Angelo. Some may know him as the viral sensation celebrating Ryan Jack’s goal in the 1 nil win over Celtic. It came to be for Angelo’s 1st game at Ibrox and I felt no other gesture than to give our season books so the family could have a special day. It’s just what we do.
That season I struggled to make some games, I gave away my books at no cost. After the previous hardship cards life had dealt us, now was a different place. I felt it was right to offer a little love and kindness back to a club who had saved my life.
2018 was also a huge year as I had decided to fight the Scottish Government to abolish child funeral fees in line with England and Wales. Initially the health minister wrote to Me and my msp rejecting my plea. So I petitioned Parliament and with the assistance of my MSP, they did a 360 degree turn. It was the first time I’d felt change could be achieved.
In 2019, Kyle’s 10th birthday, we decided to donate all 3 season books to the Rangers Charity foundation. To allow others to enjoy the love of our great club without any financial worry. It was the right thing to do.
That year I co-founded my own Charity Anam Cara Fasgadh SC049149. I said after losing Kyle I’d one day achieve 2 goals. Nobody ever pays a funeral and families would have somewhere to stay. The second part was now where our dream Began. Like the 4 lads, we were penniless. £1.76 our 1st funds May 2019 as my daughter did a collection at school to get us started.
That month I was invited to the Louden Tavern as a Guest of Heart and Hand podcast for the 3rd time. They generously had a raffle and raised 100 pounds that David Edgar matched personally. I was now able to pay for a just giving account. Small steps.
As the weeks rolled on, they shared our story on the podcast and a listener got in touch. Someone wanted to assist and they could. They started to make donations that were simply life changing.
The pandemic arrived sadly and also with it the end of my time as a season ticket holder. Shielding for my wife in an uncertain world meant I had to give up what I loved. I couldn’t guarantee time and others deserved them more. So we agreed to transfer over to a family who could enjoy our club.
It made me ponder how I could still do more. And so it came to be that after speaking to a wonderful person from twitter, I had asked if they would allow me to buy their Son his 1st season book. A gift from my family to another. We cannot take our own Son so we wanted to make someone else could. A little lad who adored Ghostbusters and Turtles like I once had. It was a sign.
As the pandemic came to a halt, life began to ease, 2022 seen me return to Ibrox. I was fortunate to be given a spare seat for the Red Star game and the thrill and exhilaration was another level. For the first time in almost 3 years I was at home amongst my own. I savoured every second. Sitting outside and watching the crowds.
By the time Leipzig came along, I knew we were Destined to win. I was there as my Sons birthday fell just 2 hours after the game. I tied my lucky scarf to the gates With the Jimmy Bell tributes and I felt calmness. The next 90 minutes were the greatest of my life following Rangers. It all felt it was coming together.
The next day, I booked Seville. Life had denied me opportunity to travel before now. Between my life in the armed forces to my family life being in absolute turmoil. I simply hadn’t had the chance. I say this as I seen the criticism aimed at those like me for not attending previous. I assure you I would have done if humanly possible. I simply wasn’t able to for a variety of circumstances. It didn’t mean I loved the club any less. I simply had devoted my life to the Raf then my family. And I have no regrets at putting them first.
I’ve cheered my team on from the Ice cold Falkland islands in the South Atlantic to the Desert heat of Jordan. I’ve never lost my love for the team no matter how far I’ve been away.
On Kyle’s birthday another milestone arrived. After 3 years, 50k raised. 2 of those years a pandemic. Our caravan dream became a reality. Our 1st trial family had stayed. It was the most emotional 24 hours in years.
I booked Seville on the Friday with a dear friend. Our dream just to be there. Sadly circumstances meant he couldn’t go. Impulsive I decided I was going alone if need be. I then advertised the flight on twitter and the share of a room. To my shock, someone took me up and I now had a travel partner. The adventure was beginning.
It involved 4 flights. 22 hours of bus journeys from Alicante to Seville and it was worth every second. A friend I’d helped in the past with my tickets gave me the Info for the bus journey. Info I then assisted others with. Luck.
I had been given 2 tickets to Cartuja by another friend, Stevie of 4 Lads had a Dream blog, meaning I had somewhere to go. What happened next will live with me forever.
My friend Robert had tickets via Uefa. Not Rangers before we go any further. I don’t agree with the system either and stand by that assertion. When circumstances meant he could not attend, on match day I was given the ticket of a lifetime. My friend wanted me to represent our kids that night if he couldn’t. And he turned down staggering sums of money to gift me it for free. That says everything about the measure of the man. Cards on table. Was I deserving of these tickets when others missed out? No. I never took one from My Gers. It was the same system that saw Seville fans in the ground. I’ve seen a lot of judgement of those of us who gained tickets that I felt wasn’t fair.
In return I gave away my cartuja ticket and I also bought another to ensure a fellow supporter on my bus had somewhere to go.
For the second time in almost 13 years I felt my luck was well and truly in.
I met supporters from all over the world. I shook hands with Frankfurt fans and we took photos together. I met numerous we friends for life. I hadn’t anticipated any of this. My plan was only to be in Seville.
And to round it off, I met the incredible parent of the little boy who we got a season book for. We watched our team together, side by side in a European final. For 12 minutes we cried tears of joy as we simply dared to dream. We hugged tears of sorrow at the end. I couldn’t have asked for a better human to stand by my side to watch our team.
My journey to Seville was a long one. I missed Manchester and swore I’d never let it happen again. In-between some testing times I always had one philosophy. Kindness is everything. Karma has a way of finding you. And believe me when I say that I think it has done just that. From my charity caravan donors to the trip of a lifetime. It felt that the universe was looking out for me. I just believe that hope and Kindness can be the most powerful thing anyone can give. You can make e a difference.
Sadly it wasn’t to be for us. The stadium is for another day. For one day, I was able to live the dream. I’m still numb from how close our players came to immortality. I hope they can show me it will be Done again.
Today they won the Scottish Cup for 1st time since May 2009. The very year my journey began.
I hope we dare to dream again soon.
One club. One love. Forever Blue.
For Kyle. Sofia. Henry. Charlotte. Lucas. Lewis. All our little bears.
He arrived with the Souness revolutionary Parade
The greatest signing that Graeme ever made
A number 2 in only but name
Destined for greatness within our beautiful game.
A Club for too long had sat in the dark
After a decade we had ignited our spark
Pittodrie would see us crowned champions once more
Little did we know what the stars had in store
When Liverpool came calling we were left cast adrift
We needed a skipper to give our support a much needed lift
The time was now to step up and enter folklore
As we approached a title decider like never before
Walking wounded would take to the field of play
Bodies on the line for the Gaffer that day
The years to come would follow this trait
No player would give anything less for this man we call great
6 more titles captured an entire generation
His old Tannadice home a fitting final combination
The great Dane headed home Charlie Millers Cross
Ensuring Walter became our greatest ever boss
You gave us the God given talent of Laudrup on the wing
The mercurial talents of Gazza would make the Copland road sing
A Goalie who defied all gravitational odds
Super Ally would be the goal scoring God.
90 minutes from the greatest final in the European game
Agonisingly close to achieving our ultimate aim
44 games undefeated, Europe and all
Amongst the top table you made us stand tall
Marseille to Brugge we went toe to toe
After dispatching Leeds United we feared no foe.
Bochum would see a Maiden Champions league win for this team.
You made every Rangers fan simply dare to dream
The final chapter was premature to say the least
As you bid us farewell in our rivals stadium in the east.
A final too far as there was not a dry eye
Our 9 in a row legends now saying goodbye
A tired Lion Rampant had lost it’s famous roar
When the country needed a hero, you walked through the door.
Pride restored in the Hampden Park rain
The Mighty France would feel the pain
When Rangers came calling you couldn’t say no
The club you had left almost a decade ago
A club now cast far adrift from success
Our Father had returned to clear up the mess
You set the tone from the second you came back
Ugo Ehiogu’s defensive form of attack
Nobody could have imagined the next 4 years
A journey to give utter joy tinged with tears
One night in Florence we held our breath
The final penalty right at the death
Our little Nacho as cool as could be
Sending us to a Uefa Cup date with destiny
A little General stood in our way
Our dear old friend too much on this day
Immense pride filled the Manchester Air
A herculean effort just to arrive there.
3 More titles would come our way
2 of them classics on the final day
Another at Tannadice all of us admired
To Killie where only 7 minutes were required
We dined on the success you delivered our club
10 Scottish titles our silver to rub
Not forgetting the Cups we desperately craved
6 league and 5 Scottish at us you waved
21 honours set you apart from the rest
However as a Man you were simply the best
On the field of play there is nowhere to hide
In the city of Glasgow we have the great football divide
Your team famously broke Tommy Burns’s heart
As you carried your friend it set you apart
A friend who joined you in that Scotland dugout
Your stature of a gentleman beyond any doubt
There aren’t enough grains in the sands of time to say
The amount of times you delivered joy our way
Childhoods were shaped on the legacy created
On the stands of Ibrox Park you left us elated
I hope Saint Peter had opened those blue gates
With Davie Coopers smile being one that awaits
Sir Bill Struth with a nod of his head to you,
Scott Symon leading you to join the immortality of blues.
The 4 lads who had that wonderful dream
Couldn’t have imagined a better manager for our team
One final marble staircase you walked to heaven
Your memory forever lives on in every Rangers 11
If God needs a team talk there is no better man
The boy from Carmyle who was our greatest ever fan
To stand amongst angels and captivate all
Inspire those who listen never to fall
When Saturday comes and the whistle blows
Our boys will be ready come rain, sleet or snow
If ever at Ibrox we need hope, faith or love
The Father we cherished will be looking down from above.
Legends never die are words that ring so true
Walter you live on forever as our own Mr Blue.
Every match our team plays the beautiful game
Ibrox Park will forever ring your name
It’s midnight. Moonlight is asking me to follow the beacon she has laid out beneath the starlit runway ahead. The pathway is lined with rocks that form the stairway to the heaven that i now desire.
With only my shadow for company, the first footsteps are planted and I’m betrothed to an adventure in the dead of night. Even the mere thought of the task in hand brings out beads of sweat and the resistance to succumb to the craving of cracking open my precious water supplies that must be used wisely.
Each step is accompanied by a desire to win the race. Sunrise has already set off, destined to meet me in a few short hours. A guarantee they will keep to their timings ensure a military precision pace to keep my end of the bargain. This is a date I don’t wish to be late for. Mother nature waits for no one.
Ben Nevis is an unforgiving terrain. Many lives have been lost on this mountain. The highest in the United Kingdom. To me, it’s just simply “the Ben”. The view I grew up holding a healthy respect for, yet held no fear.
The Cloud’s packed up long before and headed off to sleep, leaving just my head torch as my guiding light. Picking out each footstep carefully to be navigated with pinpoint accuracy. Alone at this time of night wasn’t the ideal scenario to allow complacency.
I’m breathing in the atmosphere I crave. Adrenaline is demanding each lung burst is circulated around my body. Pushing my legs to be in sync with my mind. Both are required to be as sharp as each other.
This is my 4th overnight ascent in 6 weeks. Something has been unlocked in a mind that likes to keep emotions captive. The quest of Sunrise & Starlight holding an equal launch code to fire up a passion that had been gathering dust for so long. Submerged beneath sense. Filed under “for someone else”. Until now.
I’m 38 years old. A married father of 2. I sometimes feel 88. Life has been a mixed bag of every emotion. You don’t think it will ever once happen to you. I was correct at least that fate decided testing times would happen more than that. It had been a decade where I had gone from a young, carefree ex Raf Serviceman now afraid of going to sleep.
I had regressed to be afraid of the dark, to close my eyes and enter the world that awaits. I suffered silently as I juggled the world that was under siege inside my head. The tug of war of being a devoted father who adored his daughter vs a broken Father who couldn’t hide the vision of carrying his sons White Coffin. The most polar extremes would battle for supremacy in my head.
For too long I was broken. An acceptance that silence was the medicine society would deem appropriate. Man up was still carved into my soul, burning every time I dared to try and open up. Forcing me into retreat.
Words were my saviour. My mind had left a door open where letters could escape in the form of a blog. Outpouring of emotion fleeing onto the computer screen they were now calling home. My outlet was now discovered. Over the coming years my journey would dance onto my screen. Some elation waltzing with despair. No smooth path, my very own mountain only I could navigate. Yet it did achieve one thing. I was no longer afraid of the dark as I was now finding out this starry evening.
I stop for a moment. The competitive side being told to pipe down for a moment to let my soft side take stock. The Stars are watching me as I lock eyes with them. Eagerly scanning for any sign of a wave whilst I’m telepathically letting them know I won’t be long.
The Zig zags now act as a gladiators travelator for the penultimate act of this show. Pushing my leg muscles to places they never knew existed. Demanding that my spirit whisper to keep going. Almost like drill practice on the Halton parade square. My home in Fort William is now one of the small balls of light in the distance as the atmosphere is slowly moving to a shade of dark blue harvesting a fiery glow. The rendezvous is on target.
A final push over the now lava surface, my mind is trying to convince me at least. I’m feeling the adrenaline start to inject my soul. The highest human in the land he calls home. Now I could fulfill my promise before the stars switch off to go to sleep.
As a Father I reached our as far as my arms on this human body would allow me, to blow a kiss to the stars and to my little boy. I couldn’t physically have climbed any higher to send my love via airmail. Hope being the postman I’m relying on making that special delivery.
As the stars say goodnight, I now turn and take my seat on the same overlapping edge of previous adventures. I’m in my very own theatre waiting on the curtain call. I’m taking in every moment with my own eyes, also capturing as much as I can on film to share with others.
We made it. The horizon is now giving birth to a red sphere that’s igniting the world that’s blissfully asleep below. It’s a sight that takes the oxygen clean from my lungs. Magnificent would be an insult as no words can describe the wonder in the majestic fashion it deserves.
I feel alive. The rush has taken over me as I sit above the clouds. A slight thrill now takes hold I never knew existed.
One false move and my 38 year old game of life would be at an abrupt end. A Russian roulette moment that whether you like it or not, you have clear access to that fully loaded weapon. That’s where the power comes in. The feeling of making the decision to take in the wonder. Inhale life. Walk away and choose your path. Knowledge that I wasn’t tempted by the one thing that fascinates me yet scares me the most.
It’s about more than scaling a mountain physically. Mentally it’s bigger than Everest. I have found somewhere I belong. An exact moment in the time and space conundrum that I feel completely at home with. Embedded with sunrise as I feel hope wash over my soul.
Like every journey there must be an ending. The descent is largely uneventful. Simply focusing on remembering that one piece of advice I hold dear..”watch your step”
In the blink of an eye it’s all over for another day. I’m home and dreaming of climbing into the bath that now welcomes my aching body. My knees screaming at me they are no longer 18 years old. It’s at this moment my body has my undivided attention as it let’s me know in no uncertain terms where it’s tired.
I found a combination that gave me my happy place. Elusive yet I neve gave up hope such a place existed just for me.
If a stairway to heaven does exist, I certainly found my very own on earth.
Sometimes I like to stop my own world for a moment. To pause, reflect and take stock. Especially as we enter the Bank Holiday weekend that changed my life forever 12 years ago.
Is my path the Vision I had set out? Absolutely not. Yet as I grow older, I have a foreboding sense of contentment that almost brings with it some peace.
I’m 38 now, yet I feel the Storm of life has calmed for this moment. A brief pause that’s allowed this period of reflection. I’m an emotive human. I find tear drops that I never knew even existed. I absorb others pain sometimes worse than my own. Being a bereaved Father can be a spiders Web of emotions, not knowing where the next feeling will connect.
Every May Day bank Holiday Monday teleports me back to the age of 26, when I was oblivious to what was to come. The sun-kissed Bank Holiday Monday In our modest 1st home as newly weds in Shawlands. In an instant time became an eternity. A Thunderstorm that felt supercharged enough of 1000 mystical hammers was now engulfing my mind.
Then came our Rainbow. Our first born Son, Kyle arrived on May 6th 2009. It was the moment that would change the trajectory of my own path forever and a day.
The early days were a blur. Infact the 1st few years I felt myself drifting and developing a persona to fit what society deemed acceptable. On the exterior I was Iron Man. Impenetrable, taking care of my family, especially now as we also had our daughter join our now ever growing world. I functioned externally whilst malfunctioning inside. For all the shine my exterior portrayed, the rust was spreading internally. Not even invisibility could hide my pain.
I look back now on those days wishing I could reach out to the old me. Maybe hoping if I could snap my fingers somehow I could have made it better.
I was becoming a Winter Soldier even in the scorching summer sun. Keeping up a guard that wasn’t built for such bombardment. I always look back to that one moment that I feel everything changed. When I took back control of the mindset I knew existed yet required to be released from captivity I had set myself.
2013. I’m a Father of 2, still coming to terms with the infinity stones that were now projecting my flight path when the direction violently turned. My courageous wife was now battling cancer and my world was falling to dust. My armour was cracking as I couldn’t cope with the hawk eye precision shots hitting home.
I lay in a corner one night. My daughter asleep oblivious in bed. Myself batteries low after work and trying to hold our home together as Rachel did the hard part. My decision was laid bare. I went without in order to squeeze extra petrol money. To travel 120 miles round trip an extra day after work to hold her hand, to be her Captain America & tell her she will be OK. I simply lay and sobbed. It was defining.
This was my Hulk moment. Maybe not green for those who know me personally!
These cards were not to be accepted and folded. This game wasn’t over by a long shot. Fight? When you have love, that’s a motivation greater than anything else. This was game on.
And so the game turned.
As we approached May Bank Holiday weekend 2014, this one was different. On what would have been Kyle’s 5th Birthday, his Mummy went into remission from cancer. She had only gone and kicked it’s backside.
Since then our approach has remained the same. Marvel at every single moment life gives you. Enjoy every second today because tomorrow simply isn’t promised. It’s not just about our life, we try our best every day to have a positive impact and spread a little love to others. Hoping that a special little star is watching from a Nebula above. Our very own Guardian of the Galaxy.
It’s been 12 long years. 12 years of trying to turn pain into positivity. Our end game isn’t quite there yet. We have made strides as we bid to leave Kyle’s footprint on a world he never set foot.
We have a Charity 2 years old yet making waves. Our caravan bought during a global pandemic will open soon to offer some hope and light in what’s felt an eternal fog. Our place of solace for families to escape.
In June over 100 people representing 10 Children’s charities will ascend upon Ben Nevis. A collective effort of love, determination and focus to make a difference In the name of our children.
I’m looking at the reflection staring back at me. I may not see the image I had hoped for when I planned my life. There is now magic Wanda to change the past. However I see an image I’m content with. I see a Dad who for all his flaws, did what he felt was right at the time. I used to see scars within those eyes that could tell 1000 stories of pain. Now I see a fire reignited not even Loki could extinguish. There will always be time for tears. Sometimes happy ones 55 times over as blue as the sky above. However also allowing moments for the painful ones to make their escape before the ship is overcrowded.
For Kyle’s birthday his little sister is leading the way for the 1st time. As the pandemic eases, her suggestion was a family dinner. We go out to celebrate his life as we would our own. We celebrate the people he has made us become as well as the legacy his little feet have left behind. Kyle will be proud of his sister. Especially seeing her own journey take shape as she embarked on her own fundraising adventures this year.
I’m going to sign off with something that I read most days. I made a vow to Kyle I would become a better human. We wouldn’t let his memory burn out. We extend our hand of friendship to anybody who may need it. As long as one person knows they are never alone then our job is done.
“Maybe I can’t stop the Downpour, But I will always join you for a walk in the Rain”
Words from the one and only Stevie Wonder. The perfect introduction to this piece. A Devil’s advocate of opinion just a matter of weeks after Halloween.
What is Superstition? And why is it relevant to myself and maybe others?
The definition is listed as:
“excessively credulous belief in and reverence for the supernatural“
Cards on the table, I’m one of those who subscribes to the above mentioned theory & it involves the emotional roller coaster that is how we are invested in our Football teams.
Some of the biggest names in football shared the common theme. A belief that the Supernatural would be the fine ghostly line between success and failure. It goes from subtle to sensational.
Johan Cruyff was one of the most gifted footballers to ever step onto a pitch. 8 Dutch titles, 5 KNVB cups, 3 European Cups, 1 Super cup & Intercontinental cup. And that’s only what he won as a player with Ajax!
In a world where squad numbers are what we are used to, Cruyff was years ahead of us. His teammate couldn’t find his shirt for an Ajax v PSV game. Cryuff gave up his no 7 and the first one be found in the pile was a number 14. Ajax won 1-0 and the rest is history behind the iconic shirt number. This came after 4 of his eredivisie successes. Although he still wore no 9 at Barcelona until regulations allowed otherwise.
Did the paranormal play a part in the rise of a legend? Was this superstition the Real deal? Or was it a simple placebo effect? Did superstition shape a dream career or was it simply down to raw talent. After all the one trophy that evaded this genius was the World Cup that he desperately craved with Holland.
One of Cruyff’s aforementioned trophies came in 1973 & involved the sacred ground and Hallowed turf of our very own Ibrox Stadium. Our Cup Winners Cup legends of 1972 came up against one of the greatest if not The Greatest teams in European Football history. A 3-2 victory in Amsterdam followed a 3-1 win at Ibrox. Cruyff scored twice & was instrumental in both games. He wasn’t the only player to grace Ibrox Park who held such beliefs.
Mark Walters was a fantastic winger of the Graeme Souness revolution who knew how to effortlessly Ghost past many a player. A sublime talent and will forever be remembered by myself for the cross to Mark Hateley that won the league against Aberdeen. If ever there was a stake to the heart of a team that ended an era, it was potentially that moment. And a fine detail? He wore his socks inside out. That was his ritual. It still baffles me today that he was only ever Capped once by England in his career.
Another famous international who stepped onto the Ibrox turf was involved in one of the most Iconic pre match rituals of the 1990’s and in Particular the 1998 FIFA World Cup.
Fabian Barthez was part of the Marseille European cup winning side of 1992/93 that faced Rangers in 2 mammoth ties. Yes this still hurts me to this day for the events that followed. What we can’t deny is what a fabulous team they possessed in Desailly, Voller, Boksic, Sauzee and Deschamps to name a few. Ironically back then Barthez had a full head of hair, however not so much in 1998 where he resembled Casper the Ghost such was his shiny head.
Laurent Blanc, the French Centre half would Kiss Barthez on his newly shaved head before every match for luck. Did it pay off as France won their Maiden World Cup? Was it Fate or Folly? Divine intervention or Drivel?
1998 was the year France made history with their 1st World Cup as mentioned above. It was also the year that Scotland last qualified for a Major finals tournament….until now. 1998 was also the year that a Scottish club was going for 10 in a row. Fate? Or is it wishful thinking?
I’m going to give my own take. And I don’t expect it to be universally agreed but I hope the message makes sense.
I’m 37 years old. Rangers are my team. More than a team. It’s a way of life. I grew up with the phenomenon of the Souness & Smith sides. I witnessed more silverware being plundered than any pirate ship could dream of. Success was on tap. 1998 was also my 1st taste of defeat. This new way of life hurt. It was painful seeing my mates celebrating a title that in my eyes didn’t belong to them.
In the coming years we witnessed some titanic battles with some great sides and players. Some memorable years such as Helicopter Sunday. Some less so as the championship went back and forth.
My own World collapsed in 2009. I lost my only Son to Still-Birth. His name was Kyle and I mention him a lot as I’m eternally proud to be his Father.
3 days after our loss, my beloved Rangers defeated Celtic on a rain soaked pitch courtesy of a Steven Davis goal. It was the match that propelled us to a 1st Title in 4 years. More than that it was the 1st glimmer of hope in a world I was giving up on. Maybe a sign? I grasped it with both hands.
Just 10 days after we laid Kyle ro rest, we clinched that title at Tannadice. A resounding 3-0 victory giving us a 1st championship in 4 long years. And the scorer that Day? One being a certain Kyle Lafferty. It gave me hope. It brought me joy. It made me believe my wee lad was delivering.
For 2 more seasons I watched in sheer delight as his namesake scored the goals to clinch championship numbers 53 and 54. Again I had the belief that the Stars were aligning just for me.
Everything came crashing down in 2012. It remains one of our darkest times as a supporter and the luck I believed I had was now well and truly gone. It was the horrible reality check I hoped would never come. It really felt like the Stars had simply gone out, and I know I wouldn’t be alone in feeling that way.
I’m looking back almost a decade later and with a fresh pair of eyes. It may be something you believe in with fate and the zodiac or it may be rubbish. Thats simply an individual choice.
What I can say is for those 2 years as my world was broken, those moments were as Real to me as the the grass is green and the sky is blue. The feeling of hope burned brighter than anything I had ever known. The darkness that had threatened to consume my life was being lit up by a Rainbow that saved me.
Yes my son Shared a name with Mr Lafferty. As do millions the globe over, including many Rangers fans. And maybe thats the only coincidence in this tale. In honesty I cannot argue with any of that rationale. However those moments will forever be the ones that simply belong to me.
Could 1998 be the Omen of good fortune we all hold onto? Whether it’s fate, the Stars, miracles or not it’s down to your own interpretation.
What I will say is not just relative to football, we all deserve the right to believe. If you need hope, then we can grasp it no matter what shape or form it arrives in. If something will lift you from whatever depths you find yourself in, that’s precious. Nobody should have the right to tell you or make you feel anything less.
Whatever happens come May, in what has been a turbulent and painful year for so many of us, I will be grasping onto any hope that comes my way.
1998? Yeah I will take that 💙
Kyle, you were a light in my life back then when I needed it most. I hope the coming days and weeks are as gentle for you as can be. I hope your precious Sister may Rest in Peace.
It’s the feeling of excitement as you open your eyes on matchday. The nostalgia of going to see your team with your family. Bonds that stretch decades being strengthened with every new generation.
Whether you live a free kick away or travel the length of the country, the thrill is insatiable when you arrive at the stadium. The Red Bricks look down upon you with a trance like power. You are drawn to the Colosseum that is now in front of your eyes. The smell of fast food catches every inhalation as the flags fly beside each programme ready to be sold.
Whether it’s 12 year old me or 37 year old, my heart still skips a beat as I enter the turnstile with the rest of our extended Family. The small walk up the stairs fires up the adrenaline as you can now hear the passion filtering from above. Once the light perforates, you are faced with the greatest sight that I have ever seen. The Blue Sea of Ibrox Park.
This iconic stadium has witnessed many battles long before my time or indeed any person in that stadium today. Our home has had many a Captain at the helm. From William Wilton to William Struth. Souness & Smith to Steven Gerrard. All entrusted with the keys to the players that become Gladiators for our club every time they pull on the shirt that so many crave to do so. Once they cross that white line of our Ampetheatre, they know that the battle has commenced. Nothing less than victory will be acceptable for those watching from the stands.
Our Stadium is also a permanent and lasting tribute to those fans who went to a match and never came home. Always remembered forever and a day.
Winning is everything. Second is nothing. Immortality the prize of you truly want it enough.
Our journey has taken us from the Glorious heights of European Success in 1972 to the depths of despair 40 years later as off the field influences crashed our ship into an Iceberg of misery.
For the generations who have dined out on success, this was devastating. To see the Grace of Gascoigne, Cooper’s Creativeness, Laudrup’s Legend, McCoists magic, we were truly spoiled. That’s only 4 players I don’t know if I will ever see the like of again. There are older generations who can name other’s who maybe hold even more iconic status that they have seen with their own eyes.
For the Generation of the last 10 years, they have been starved of the very success that myself and others took for granted. They are only now starting to see the Original product finally cast the imposter aside as they chase the Holy grail that is silverware. They more than anyone deserve success.
This season we are entering something of the unknown.
Matchday arrives and the butterflies are sprung into action. As supporters we proudly pull on our colours as we prepare to raise our voice in tune with our pulsating heartbeats. At this point our journey taken for generations is halted. We have been stopped dramatically in our tracks by a pandemic that has impacted the life of every human on the planet.
Instead of travelling to our home, our feet remain planted. Instead of climbing the stairway to our footballing heaven, we are left with the stairs of our homes. As we open our eyes we are not greeted by the sight of our fortress, Instead its a screen in our living rooms.
Our players exit the tunnel to a thunderous silence. Empty seats now stare back at those now on the field. Only the brisk autumn wind carries the voice where 50 thousand once had. Welcome to the new normal.
Of course once the whistle blows, in an instant you forget the surroundings. From the Big apple to Bishopbriggs. From Australia to Alloa, Germany to Govan. We infuse as one as our emotion takes over.
When the final whistle goes, one thing does remain. The desolation of a result gone wrong or the utter elation of winning. This weekend of 17th October brought home sheer joy for one half of Glasgow.
Then our journey hits a buffer. We are now a quarter into our new season that we cannot see. Our changed world not showing any signs of abating any time soon. This is a perfect time to pause & reflect on just how different things have become for a football supporter.
For this part, it could apply to any team whatsoever.
Season tickets purchased for a season we may not be able to use them. Many jobs on the line. Some earning a yearly equivalent that our players earn in a week still renew in a heartbeat. A sacrifice knowing you are effectively donating your money to watch on TV for the survival of the club you love.
Knowing that in this climate, such actions are keeping your club afloat.
There is also another issue that may have been lost in translation. The escape from reality that has been lost so far this season.
So many people find comfort in this trip to a place they call home. Amongst like minded individuals, all with a common love of a team. Not all of us can go to a game, even pre covid19. However we always had a choice. With the choice being so drastically ripped from us it leaves a gaping gap in our lives. The option being taken away and denied the opportunity to escape reality for just a day is a hard pill to swallow.
One thing this has done is hammer home just how important fans are. Loyalty can maybe be taken for granted & people should be commended.for stepping up to the challenge. Likewise nobody should be made to feel any less important for not being able to join others doing so.
What I will say is the day will come where the wind will change. It won’t be far away but it will arrive.
Those who have never experience the thrill of a maiden voyage to enjoy the game we love will know the wait was well worth it. Those of us simply love meeting our friends and loved ones will do so again and with a richer sense of adulation than we ever have had before. For others, the solace of being back where loved ones who have sadly departed once stood, will fill us with more emotion than we ever thought possible.
Our stands will rise once again. Our voices will unite in a wall of noise. We will electrify the air around us whilst delivering spine tingling nights under the floodlights. We will hug strangers as we score those last minute winners. We will cry tears of euphoria as dreams come true and tears as some hopes are snatched away. We will leave a part of our hearts and souls every time we step away from our home, knowing how fortunate we are to be back.
We will breathe the air around us and know the feeling of being alive. Witness the eyes of our children light up as they climb those steps as we once did. We will watch them absorb the energy that makes it so magical and captivate them forever more.
Covid won’t last forever.
Our beautiful game will stand once more. The silence of the Stands will be over.
I’m looking through the cracks in my fingers. Afraid of the Glass that stands only a few short feet away. I’m 37 years old with the mind-set that time travels between 9 and 67. My reflection stares back at me and I don’t recognise him. The eyes are soulless, devoid of any spark. I’m blinking and hoping I wake-up and see the person I hope is in there. Like the Evil Queen herself, the answer is being rejected by my ears.
No looking Glass for me or chasing a White rabbit. The dust cover is on. The image I want portrayed is in my head. The Magic mirror won’t sync up so it must be simply ignored. The Person I believe I am is now ingrained onto my vision and I carry on with the day ahead. Daylight hours being my safe place.
Now every story needs a villain. My Scars would pounce when the sun goes down. Laughing like a Hyena, knowing what was in the script of my life being played out for all to see. As the Sun crosses infinity & beyond for the night, I’m now entering a battleground. The Shadow man of my mind has emerged and is mobilizing every demon in his arsenal. My eyes are putting up a brave resistance, however they fall to the siege being laid upon them by this not so Jolly Roger. As they eventually do every passing evening, a white flag is raised. As soon as the shutters fall, the signal is relayed and the attack begins.
I’m desperately trying to escape by the Cars in my mind to the inner peace of the Paradise Falls awaiting me. The Car won’t start as my lightning escape lies in ruins. I’m frantically trying to ignite the engine as the shadows close in. I’m running On foot through an empty Mineshaft that all directions are blocked off. Every exit clouded by Judgement. The Courage that has been my companion on the outside world of consciousness has abandoned me in my hour of need. No longer a Lion, instead a Mouse now scurrying. The Pirates are rounding up the last of my sanity as the waves of fear now consume me. My Body releases a burst of energy that manifests from my lungs. The volume is enough to break the spell that has been conjured over me and release me from the captivity.
However it has come at a price. I have been lifted from the shipwreck that was threatening to drag me to the depths, and carried to the shore of consciousness. My Guardian swimming back to the void I have just escaped. As the water falls from my face, the reality hits me that the battle isn’t over. The Moon still stands guard and this shift is far from over. This Inside out world I find myself in has a long way left to go. My breakout has not only affected me. Its alerted those I love and now find my Pandora is affecting much more than my own Avatar.
My eyes decide to put up one last stand at this Gunfight before succumbing to the inevitable. Once again the sky begins to go black and I’m on my way.
Blink and you miss it. The Siren in the distance is getting closer that signals the end of another fight. The noise now fully piercing my ears as it takes the form of an alarm clock on the phone by my bedside. The person now wearily surfacing from another battle is preparing to change into the game face for the day ahead. The mask is selected for the appropriate occasion. Any pain is corked, any memory squeezed and placed back into an overflowing mind of emotion that is growing more unsteady with every passing day. The overflow valve connecting it to the button that engages talking has malfunctioned for as long as I can remember. A simple solution yet unexplainably lies disconnected.
As I remove the covers and once again ask the Mirror the question, this time the response is satisfactory. The image standing before me will be suffice for now and the upcoming day. The sanctuary of daylight before the inevitable trip to the Scarefloor when the lights dim. The obstacles today are a walk in the park compared to what awaits me later on. I have become the master of disguise, or so I thought. Cracks were now beginning to appear and the mask slipping for the first time in over a decade. The Great Wall I had constructed for the daytime campaign was now crumbling before my very eyes. The bottled up emotion was leaking, the cracks now beyond repair and a full blown reactor meltdown was only a matter of time.
I patched myself up and prepared to retreat to the safety of home. Wounded and stunned by the sudden glass slipper fragility that my mind had become. The Hercules I pictured my persona becoming was no longer the case. This was the beginning of the end my body was crying out for. The release mechanism wasn’t as far away as I suspected. It was delivered with pinpoint accuracy in the form of 4 simple yet unexpected words. “How are you?” This coding hadn’t entered my world for a long time. It set off a chain reaction that culminated with my pain start to release. The words simply came out that I needed a little help. I needed someone to have a friend in me.
The coming days provided the reinforcements this battle had been starved of for over a decade. The odds were no longer stacked against me. We had found a mechanism to stop the reactor going into a meltdown. By adding an outlet valve direct to counselling, I could begin the task of easing the pressure that was keeping me pinned down both day and night. It wasn’t the miracle cure of draining the swamp I wanted but it was the start I desperately needed and the rescuer within.
Today I looked into the Magic mirror once more. No hiding, just accepting the person that stood before me. The truth is they had only changed with age. PTSD was the new addition although it was invisible to the naked eye. It was the secret ingredient that held all of my pain together. It had been there all along, storing and bottling any misery that entered the game. It took a fresh pair of eyes to see what I had been blind to this entire time. I’m not expecting miracles and I know its a long way before I can become the sleeping beauty I badly crave to be. It’s a start and every new beginning must offer hope.
My pride is hurt. I thought I was genuinely a Mr Incredible to the family I adore when in reality I was becoming more like Wreck it Ralph. Full of good intentions but destroying what lay in my path, most crucially my own wellbeing.
I’m on the road to recovery. To accept my past, engage my present and dream of my future. I’m going to leave the final words on this to someone else to round up my journey thus far.
“Life is Composed of Lights and shadows, and we would be untruthful, insincere and saccharine if we tried to pretend there were no shadows”
At last, I can connect with the pillow that I have longed for all day. The one place I can forget reality and step into an alternative universe. These last few months it has been my 2nd home, or my 3rd home as I will explain later.
I’m becoming a passenger in my own body. Grief has now conditioned me to the point that I don’t feel it. Numbness has now infused itself onto my mind and has a vice like grip of my sanity. I think 2020 has had that effect on so many of us in different ways. Losing my Father and Grandmother in 7 short months were the final push. Following losing my only Son a decade earlier.
I’m tired and as my train pulls into the Station after another long day. I’m departing this vehicle that to the wider world, functions perfectly. It hasn’t been stopped, despite taking a battering from life. It’s motored on and carried out It’s primary role of carrying others. The water tanks have held firm as no emotional leaks have taken place. You could say a perfect bill of health. Maybe too perfect.
I’m now moving on the escalators to the Underground. Knowing that the carriage I’m about to step onto has no set destination. Tickets to paradise are never available as the carrier cannot ever promise delivery on such a trip. Maybe one day they will surprise me. I’m settled now into my comfortable seat looking out the window. The entire carriage is made of glass. Perfectly serene yet a fragility I cannot control. It’s the only carriage available these days so I have to take my chance.
As the horizon disappears, my eyes infuse onto the projected journey in front of me. Once departed, you cannot get off. All you can do is ride this journey out. Sadly I’m travelling through an area I know only too well, somewhere I’m accustomed to, Fear.
On this occasion, Death is stood beside me, beckoning me to come over. I’m frozen, paralysed and unable to speak. And then I manage a lung burst that shatters the carriage. I’m frantically trying to crawl through the shards of mental anguish and to make my way back to the safety of my own Train. I can see another passenger and I frantically beg them to help me as I’m crossing between these dimensions. At last I can see the lights in the distance and I’m home from another journey to hell. I may think I’m travelling alone but sadly that’s a distorted version of the truth. Unwittingly I have dragged an innocent party into my journey and that’s when reality has knocked me out cold. My Family have once again witnessed my journey and it’s taken its toll.
Other destinations have included Monsters of all descriptions, roofs caving in, some scenarios i can’t bring myself to type.
I sheepishly apologise for the actions of my other self. When you have such an iron grip on your conscious self, with each squeeze I have inadvertently released my subconscious mind and left it without protection. It’s exposed and vulnerable, a Yin and Yang effect now in full flow.
There are only so many times you can say sorry. Every time I step on that underground, the chances of a destination id rather avoid grow by the day. The numbness of reality draining the life from fantasy, almost to a point I’m resigned to my fate. The Glass carriage should be giving panoramic views of a world I can only wish I could reach. Instead its exposing me to my worst fears every time.
The last stops involved a movie watching myself lose my life. That isn’t the person I know.
I don’t want to get on that train anymore. I need to get off now.
I know that I can become a signal operator and change destination. I know that in order to do that, I cannot drive my own armoured vehicle. I need to let the guard down and allow my conscious mind to be exposed to my body. I need to let engineers in before it’s too late. I need to somehow empty the water tanks. If only I could turn on the taps on demand.
This has been one of the most difficult passages I have ever written. I’m only sharing this now because I have taken the 1st steps to getting the maintenance my mind needs. I hope in the coming hours that a kinder destination awaits me when I step onto my glass carriage.
It won’t change overnight. I know there will be occasions I have to just get to the end of the tunnel. I hope that over time, I won’t need to fear closing my eyes any longer. The last 10 years have simply broken me for now.
I’m not ashamed to say I need a little help. Almost like my own Guard to help direct me on the journey I want.
It’s a clear day in the Scottish Highlands. The Sun kisses the waves as they slowly brush the sand from my bare feet. I’m taking in the sound of the ocean as nature has her arms wrapped around my family. Each pebble glowing as we take stock of our lives. Its been a few weeks since we lost our firstborn Son. Too good for this world, we take time as a family to grieve.
We don’t have any financial burden as his funeral fee was waived by the Government and we can allow the sands of time to heal what’s left of our hearts.
Then I wake up. Reality ripped me from the shoreline of my dream and dragged me to the depths of despair I must face. This was a dream like no other. One side promising so much and offering hope. The nightmare being the life you are thrown back into.
It’s May 2009. Our world as a newly married couple has crashed around us as we say goodbye to our precious Son Kyle, before we have even met him. Instead of escaping the pain, I have to go back to work to survive 3 days after we said goodbye. We have a funeral to pay for and a home to keep. Our healing journey is back in the Station as the departure has been abruptly cancelled.
11 years on and I can vividly recall the day I went back to work. My face was holding up the photo of a smile whilst my body was breaking beneath the skin. My mind had put up a “back in a while” shop sign as it disappeared into the unknown. Autopilot was engaged with no destination in sight. No runway clear to land, this was going to be a long haul flight. I look around and everything is a blur. There are passengers waiting to get in but my mind is empty, void and simply won’t allow any crew to help out. The manual says you must pilot this alone with a stiff upper lip and navigate through any storms that come in order to protect others. I sadly did just that. However I did muster some courage and vowed this wasn’t good enough and nobody else should make this journey. I promised Kyle and it was the moment that saved my life.
The inflight movies to come were preselected and usually horror with no other choice available. You have to watch your wife fight cancer whilst caring for your 3 year old child at home. You reach a point where your reserves are running on empty and a crash landing is no longer a threat but indeed imminent. Nobody banked on resilience and the human skill of navigating through even the worst storm imaginable. Using every last ounce of fuel, you manage to land every night. Sometimes by the skin of your teeth but you made it just the same. Tomorrow always being a new day to take to the skies.
There is always the “ejector seat”. If the aircraft of your life is burning out of control, sometimes the only option is to bail out rather than be dragged down with it. There is always an option. It’s scary to pull the handle and let yourself go. You might not land in the safe zone you craved, it might be the ocean of uncertainty. However it’s a start and you can find your way to wherever you want to be just by allowing yourself an escape from the isolation you regarded as your only friend. It’s scary. Its daunting. It can take the form of opening up to a friend or loved one or even typing your feeling onto a screen. You can emerge from it.
It took me 4 years flying solo until the day I pulled my parachute cord into a blog. My flight log now becoming a salvation for this tired former airman. The fog in my own mind clearing as I was able to make sense of the flak that had scarred my life until this point. This was my very own Ruhr valley moment being the movie dam. 617 squadron from my old haunt at Lossiemouth the very inspiration as my defences were breached and my tears flowed as I typed. Every good aviator needs a wingman. Turns out I needed a few more.
More Goose than a Maverick, I had my belief back and reignited the back-burner of ambition. Rome certainly wasn’t built in a day and the next decade would be carefully pieced together as I planned my counter attack. It began with running. Marathons started off the awareness campaign I was now dedicated to. The battle raged back and forth and would remind me this was indeed a war at times.
2020 has been the year we will want to forget yet cannot. It began with the loss of my Father and continued with a pandemic not seen in over 100 years that would change the modern world. Yet it would also be the final part of a puzzle I had no idea was about to finish.
Its July. It’s a clear day in the Scottish Highlands. The Sun kisses the waves as they slowly brush the sand from my bare feet. I’m taking in the sound of the ocean as nature has her arms wrapped around my family. Each pebble glowing as we take stock of our lives. Its been 11 years since we lost our firstborn Son. Too good for this world, we take time as a family to reflect. We recall those difficult days and how we had to struggle to pay for a funeral for our child and survive. We shed a tear knowing that the Government have waived all child funeral fees in Scotland. Our lad played a part in Scotland to ensure Martin’s law was implemented and nobody else will suffer financial hardship as we did.
We don’t need to be woken from this dream as we depart the golden sands and head to the Caravan that sits in the distance. This dream is one that came true. Our very own Charity, founded only a year earlier now the proud owner of a holiday caravan in the Scottish Highland’s to allow families that crucial escape.
It’s too late for my family, but as we smile at the glowing Rainbow, we are beyond proud that its not too late for someone else. That brings a tear as we stand together.
It’s been a long journey. Some impromptu stops along the way. It hasn’t been smooth and certainly turbulence always around when you least expected it. We did see it through. After I bailed out of the burning wreckage of my Life all those years ago, it was just the beginning of the rebuild. I took to the skies. And this time I allowed a full crew to be by my side for the remainder of this journey. Friendship is everything.
Dad, I hope you and Kyle are smiling. I promised I wouldn’t give up.
If you have a dream. Chase it. They can come true.
“Can you hear me calling Out your name You know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say I’ll speak a little louder I’ll even shout You know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out Oh I I want to be with you everywhere Oh I I want to be with you everywhere”
Fleetwood Mac -Everywhere
One of my favourite artists and one of my favourite songs. Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac. The words crafted into my dreams as they fit perfectly as to my feelings as a bereaved father. Music has been my absolute salvation over this past 10 years. Allowing me sometimes to forget the painful world we live in for a moment. Sometimes I’m singing along with a smile. Others I’m crying with the raw power of the piece. It’s the emotional attachment that makes you fall in love with it’s purity and will draw you in over and over again.
Whether it be running a race or simply letting out some droplets of cry drops. Each journey is as unique as the individual listening and thats what makes our stories so powerful. Each one carrying it’s own message in a unique manner.
How many of us have been that Rocketman? Or travelled like Major Tom? How many of us have been Crazy in love? How many of us still get that same sense of warmth every time we watch an old movie and those songs stir up every emotion? From Dirty Dancing to Disney. From Top Gun to Tangled. I bet some of you are humming along to these now!
2020 I hope will never be repeated for many aspects. The world is unrecognisable to the one we left behind just a few short months ago. However as I write this final blog about life under lockdown, we are slowly phasing out of it. The words are poignant and reflective. 3 incredible Mum’s share their stories about this journey. For me, it’s been incredible seeing their words paint some incredible images.
For this blog, there will be no piecing together. I’m going to let the words flow exactly as intended by the incredible Authors. This is their art, their craft and their story.
For Claire, May is also a special month. For her Son, Jack would have been 4 years old. Jack shares a birthday with my own Kyle and it’s a warm feeling that our boys will have had a little party together in the Stars.
Claire told me Jack 6th May 2020. What a beautiful day. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky. Today my boy turns 4. 4!? Isn’t that crazy ? How quickly time passes whether we want it to or not. Only today I don’t get woken up at the crack of dawn by that excited little boy bursting to open his presents. Ready for his cake and his party. Super happy to be a big boy. Instead.. I wake up overwhelmed again with the sadness and emptiness that I always feel this time of year. I wake up and prepare for the birthday visit to the grave instead. This year is slightly different. This year we are under lockdown. For me though, fortunately, I can still be around my family and I can still actually visit my boys resting place. How thankful I am for that. I get to enjoy the incredible day, which of course I say is Jack’s way of letting us know he is with us. As a family we visit him, we had some cake for him and also some drinks as a toast to him.
My boy I feel has prepared me for lockdown in a strange way. The loss of him left me feeling completely alone, isolated, and turned my world upside down. Everything stopped that day and never properly started again. It was like the outside world didn’t exist anymore yet no one could ever understand how that felt. For me, I feel this is just the world catching up. During this time, I feel people are recognising a little more, the important things in life. Life is not about jobs, or the shops, the pubs or even the money. Life is about the love of your family and friends and appreciating the people around you.
Life is about the beauty in the small things, those moments of happiness, however fleeting they may be. I have learned this in the 4 years without my baby. Somehow, he has taught me this even in my darkest moments of grief. Lockdown has brought along with it a clearer night sky. The stars are shining brighter and with a star up there for Jack, I am thankful for this period. He comes to my mind every single night without fail when the stars are shining. For me him shining up there symbolises our love and hope for the future. The next time you have a moment, look up to the night sky. Appreciate it’s beauty. Feel at peace knowing the ones you love are up there disguised as stars. And look forward to the what lies ahead.
Tracy, shared with me about her Son Lewis.
I met Tracy through my wife who has been friends for years.
“Since the lockdown there have been more occasions to think about Lewis and share his story than I ever thought possible and taking me on yet another journey I never imagined I would be on.
The fall our out from the events of just now I am sure will become evident in years to come and similar to the loss of your precious baby can spiral like no other.
Lewis was my second son and very much a surprise,
Lewis was due on the 16th of May 1991 but two weeks before my due date I had to go to the Doctors. My blood pressure was high so they sent me to Hospital.
“When I got there I was closely monitored, but my blood pressure was not going down. I told my husband at the time to go home as our other son Ian was only 16 months old.
I was then taken for a scan and never thought anything was wrong so wasn’t overly worried. The nurse went away to get a Doctor and they both had a look at the scan. I was then sent back to my room with nothing further said.
“The Doctor then came into my room and asked where my husband was. I said I’d sent him home to look after our son. I asked what was wrong and then I heard the excruciating diagnosis as he told me ‘your baby has Spina Bifida and fluid on the brain and won’t live long after the birth’.
Those words are ones that are etched in my brain forever and I felt like a truck had just hit me. ”
“The next morning, the Midwife came in and she was so lovely. They induced me again and then offered me an epidural. I couldn’t stop crying as I felt like such a failure. When Lewis was ready to be born I was terrified. I had visions of a monster with a big head and I hadn’t expected him to be born alive. I asked them to take him away as I couldn’t bring myself to see him. However, he was born alive and he was truly lovely. Thinking my baby would be so out of proportion makes me feel ashamed as no matter what he was still going to be my baby. .
“I asked to see him. My beautiful son Lewis had been born at 6.10pm, he was 5lb 8oz and tiny. They had packed his back as his Spina Bifida was very severe.”
We were moved to a side room, Lewis was frail but he was on morphine and I just held him as he slept. His breathing was not regular and I just kept praying he was in no pain
Lewis passed away at 1.50pm in my arms. My mum and dad came to see him and they brought Ian with them, so for a few minutes Ian and his brother were together. “The walk from the hospital is one that will be in my mind forever. Leaving the room and then getting in the lift and turning left to see the double doors that I had walked in through 48 hours earlier thinking I was about to have my healthy beautiful baby. The smell in the corridor the sun shining so brightly through the glass, the grey walls and the sound of happy pregnant mums all around was deafening. I wanted my feet to stop moving and to turn back time
“I am now divorced from Lewis’s dad and it was a very difficult and messy time. We moved to Fort William 6 months after losing Lewis, we both made friends up there and friends that I cherish till this day. It was not enough though to be able to save an already fragile marriage. Ian was 8 when we divorced and lived 7 days with each parent but I was so happy when he eventually decided to come and live with me full time. He is now married and I am a mother in law, He is so precious to me. I know he’s now 30 but still my wee boy
“I re-married 10 years ago to a wonderful man called Kenny. We’ve actually known each other for 20 years and I am now very happy..
When I moved back after a few years I got into fitness and found it worked for my head space and I also found out about a charity called SANDS Lothians ( Now Held In Our hearts.) from a work colleague. I agreed to attend a meeting wit her as she too had lost a son but deep down though this was not for me but it turned out to be the opposite. It was al light bulb moment and the place I should had have been long before I did.
Through the support of the charity and my love for running and fitness I learnt that talking about Lewis was fine and no one was going to judge me for it and it gave me space in my head to think about him again.
In 2017 I was offered a job three hours a week with the charity as I had been running in the Edinburgh Marathon Festival Weekend for two years in a row and had managed to not only get all my friends and family involved but I was as it turned out a natural fundraiser. The day Nicola our chief executive offered me those three hours a week was just magical. I had finished the marathon and literally jumped for joy and after 26 miles that was impressive. I then went on to train as a befriender and since January 2018 I have worked for the charity 30 hours a week in a dual role of supporting families and fundraising. The job can be challenging but that is why I love it and the team are just incredible. There is not a day goes by that we don’t check in with each other. It’s a family and one that I truly love. The last few weeks if we have a wobble we help each other. The majority of our team are bereaved so we there to support each other especially as we all have our own down times as we miss our families.
Since the pandemic the support we offer families is more important than ever and I feel privileged to do so. Nicola has pioneered the way in bereavement care and I truly know that with our her guidance and love would not be doing what I do.
The pandemic will be over and the new normal is something we all talk about. As a bereaved parent the new normal is something we live with very day and as a team we do this in the only way we know. With empathy, connection and most of all love.”
Last but not least, Annette shared her story about her daughter Melissa.
Near the end of February I had a strong urgency to put everything in place.
First I started sorting through my studio.
After a while I collapsed on the floor with a cuppa, reaching over into the bottom of my wardrobe. I grasped Melissa’s memory box, pulling it out onto floor in front of me.
I made up her little box in 2017 after getting in touch with Simba. Then Sands, who I had previously and briefly contacted after Melissa’s death in 1992.
I had been resting in my bed with chronic illness when lockdown began. I felt calm, because I’m used to home with times of isolation where I create and balance selfcare. After listening and talking with my other children I reached for my diary.
The days had become muddled. I saw the date 2 April and wrote next to it… Melissa’s due date 💖.
I didn’t think it held much for me. None of my children had arrived on their due dates. Do babies ever?
Melissa’s real date…. It was on my third hospital admission that I gave birth to Melissa. 💖 She was born on the 9th December 1992 at 23 weeks and 5 days. She was alive before birth and she died at birth . (2 days later and she would officially of been registered stillborn) My baby. My daughter. A precious part of my life. On her special day, I spend most of it amongst nature. Remembering everything about Melissa and every moment I had with her. I fill up with love and gratitude …… a mum to 3 beautiful humans. In the evening I talk with my other children and light a candle for Melissa. I don’t have a grave to visit and like many parents I have been unable to trace where they buried her. Most probably in a mixed grave with others. I always had a scan photo. But now, I also have little pieces. Some with her name, including a birth certificate where I am named as her sole parent. An inscribed bronze leaf is attached to a tree of tranquility in the Botanical garden nearest to me. In our garden Melissa’s plant grows. It flowers almost all year, although it’s not supposed to. Bees love it. Melissa means ‘honey bee’. Special memories. I saw and touched her briefly… I can remember her clearly in every detail. I knew she would be perfect and she was. A tiny little face, smooth, with lashes. Five little fingers on each hand . One in a fist and the other one clasped across her check. Little feet with 5 toes on each . I can transport and connect with her at anytime . Just before the ambulance arrived she gave her biggest kick ever. But on the 2nd April I did sit thinking of her. Imagining again what she would be like. Would she sit in my bedroom talking to me like my other children do. Would her eyes be hazel like theirs and mine. Would she have been different to talk to her because she was a girl. I concluded she would of been just her own wonderful unique self just like my other children are.
Two precious sons who came after Melissa. Amazing, kind, loving, cool, talented, accepting and fun to be with. My most precious accomplishments in life. She probably would annoy them, but maybe not. They may have annoyed her but maybe not. Soon as lockdown begins I am thinking of all my children. But Melissa gets put to one side. As I focus on the calm and connect through messages. Looking at tweets and posts, so many now related to covid-19. I also observe baby loss and the impact of coercive control (domestic abuse.)
I’m aware of how invisible and unrecognisable it is to the outside world. My ptsd gets triggered and my heart is ripped again. I spend time awake writing and waiting for messages.. I see Michael’s tweet about creating the blog. . So I retreat to rest. I want to contribute but I need to listen to my body first. I have lots of tv to catch up on, yet I sleep, eat and we play chess and watch the simpsons. I smile as I recall a few good things that have remained in the present .
I know how much the blog means to Michael. I predict he’ll have more blogs and perhaps a babyloss awareness book will follow. I imagine it maybe full of stars, 🌈 and perhaps a little robin. 🙂
Again I’m lost in pictures, my creativity ignited.
I read blog 1 and I am deeply moved by everyone’s words. I realise how difficult it must be for those who cannot visit graves or carry out special rituals. A challenging time where many of us are reflecting and remembering. Grieving and feeling a range of overwhelming emotions.
I reflect in lockdown and come to realise the part that February played in preparing me a little … I feel many moments of calm.. The lockdown has made it more difficult in some ways with my children. I especially love the time I have with one. I worry and especially miss one. And again I especially remember one. I don’t want to be here for a moment. I want to return to Skye. I wish we could all be there. My mind has went into overtime. Yet I come back to the moment and I feel so much gratitude. I’ve just read about Covid-19 on Skye . I reserve my energy and return to be an observer of everything, including my mind. I surrender, trust and choose the simple things I love . Friends, family and others message and call 💛
I’m aware it is difficult for everyone in different ways. I lost someone very dear to me just before lockdown. I miss talking to her, especially when I think of my children, Melissa’s due date, the blog, everything and anything.I forget for a moment that she’s not here. Then I’m completely washed over with sadness and for a few minutes I can’t figure out the saying of ‘timing’, words of wisdom or any positive bullshit. I can’t predict the next month, year or three and I don’t want to. But I can tell you the last month, year and three years were nothing that I would of predicted. I’ve talked about Melissa more than I’ve ever done. It’s been nice to hear her name especially from others . Baby loss and domestic abuse is more commonly connected than projected. Both subjects contain stigma, guilt and often inaccurate preconceptions . Many women who experience domestic abuse have also have experienced baby loss in a variety of ways. Some are never able to share their stories or get support. I hope after this difficult time many more humans are honest and compassionate . . I hope birdsongs will still be heard. More humans will hug and dance. The uncomfortable conversations will be listened to. Those will be loved and accepted for who they are. I look forward to embracing all those I love and to meet those I’ve been waiting to meet. And we’ll see what comes and grows from those seeds 💛 🦋 Reading blog 2 …Again it is truly moving with brave and inspiring honesty. I am forever grateful to all the baby loss parents I have connected with. To talk about Melissa openly was very healing and healthy. Reading your stories was … 💛 Tonight before I finally edited this … I needed a moment out into the garden. I’ve not been out lately and Melissa’s plant was needing some tlc. It was late, but mild and the light was beginning to fade. Still and quiet except for Elvis pounding through my headphones. I cut the old dry stems off, exposing the beautiful delicate little purple flowers. Who had I’ve talked to about her plant I wondered and who would take care of her plant when I couldn’t. I realised I have thought more about Melissa throughout the lockdown than before it. I feel tears flowing. I blame Elvis. The past is being shaken, slowly it’s settling somewhere. Never ever believe that you are over sensitive. I’m packing the little bag of love, the only one I plan to carry from now on. I message my other son, he replies.
I take a deep peaceful breath, a day ending when I’ve connected with all my children and know they are all safe . 💛
3 very powerful tributes. I felt tonight it was right to let the words flow. Raw and honest emotion. I need to say only one thing as a Father and Husband. Annette bravely talking about Domestic abuse I applaud.
Lockdown will undoubtedly intensify such harrowing circumstances. I hope and pray nobody ever suffers such. Annette I’m humbled to read your words.
I want to say a few words about our 3 contributors.
Claire is an incredibly inspiring person. Raising funds for 2 Cuddle Cots in memory of her Son. An incredible feat. Claire reached out to me when it was apparent our boys shared a birthday and I simply needed a friend. An act of kindness that won’t be forgotten.
Tracy is someone I have only know a couple of years but feels like a lifetime. Her enthusiasm and zest for life is inspirational. Having a role at Held in our Hearts is perfect for Tracy. She talks about such an incredible charity, however she fails to mention just how incredible she is. Always there for parents, she truly goes above and beyond.
Annette is another kind and compassionate person. Always offering kind words and support, it is an honour to call her my friend. Annette is also an incredibly talented artist. Please have a look at her Instagram page. You won’t be disappointed.
Instagram.com/annettecreative
I want to end this blog by saying thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to share such powerful stories. Your love and empathy has been evident for all to see. Your words will have comforted others. I can assure you I was one of those people.
I spoke about Music and the love and joy it can bring. It can also be your friend when you need it most. I think of us all starting off as a blank Vinyl. Our journey is our own album in the making and one day we will be able to sit and listen to the life we lived.
For that I now share a special Spotify Playlist. I called it “Songs for our Stars” handpicked by the incredible parents who took part in this journey. I hope you enjoy and take as much comfort from it as I have. Incredibly not one duplicate song.
To me that emphasises something I have said from the moment we lost Kyle. Each of us are on a similar journey. All connected by a common theme and love. However each one of our stories is unique to us. No two are ever the same no matter how similar
I think that is reflected perfectly in the Music choice.
We are all artists. Our little ones continue to paint the sky and leave their footprints on our world for all to see.
Louise kindly sent me these poignant words, and they could not be more perfect to sign off.
My step sons asked their mate last minute to play at the graveside, we only had close family, very small at the service. I think everyone we knew turned up to the graveside as Willie carried him in his little wicker basket and Billy played this tune by chance. It happened to be one of Willie’s favourite songs on the pipes. As you say so powerful……but beautiful at the same time.
“Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”
Those immortal words uttered by Dorothy back in 1939. How many of us have uttered them in 2020? Our very own declaration of war in a fashion we simply could never have imagined. Ironically, I’m typing this just days after the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landings where Europe faced down tyranny, an enemy that we knew and could face. Now we face the complete unknown, this is our yellow brick road as we are walk an uncertain path in search of getting back to our normality.
No Journey in life is complete without bumps in that road. We are all searching for our very own emerald city, and whatever our idea of happiness might be. We have all likely been each character on our own journey. Whether it be the immediate aftermath or years later, we encounter so many emotions that you cannot accurately describe. I know I have been the Lion, searching for courage because inside I have been broken, yet putting on a charade for the world to see. As a Father, how many of us have been the Tin Man? Or at least perceived to be him? Searching for a heart as we acted how society deemed us to. Reality? We really do have that heart of the same Gold paving that yellow brick road. And the Scarecrow? Yeah, I have also made decisions that even still have me asking why? Its easy to look back and criticise, however it takes a lot of Heart and Courage to use your Brain and make a decision in such harrowing circumstances. It’s at this point I’m not going to profess owning any Ruby Slippers!
As a bereaved parent, it has been an honour and a privilege to sit and read some incredible words from other families. Its been an emotional rollercoaster placing their stories here and I hope you can take comfort and empathy from the bravery of the individuals who have come forward so openly and honest.
This Journey hasn’t been one we have walked on, these past 8 weeks or so. Its been almost the Polar opposite. Lockdown and staying at home. Restricted liberties have meant the most basic freedoms we took for granted were now taken from under our feet in a whirlwind we could not have predicted. Faced with a world we simply don’t recognise. We are challenged on a daily basis and sometimes in a fashion the rest of the world cannot see.
Challenges Faced
I spoke to Catriona about her Son Charlie, who would have turned 3 years old under lockdown. Catriona explained her feelings on Grief as a bereaved Mother.
“Loss changes you as a person…well it did for me. I don’t know exactly how I have changed but when I look at my reflection in the mirror, I know it’s not the same carefree person staring back at me.”
“Charlie died 3 years ago and although it has changed, I know my grief is going to be with me throughout my whole life. During lockdown for some reason my feelings of loss have been intensified. Perhaps we have had fewer distractions or maybe more time to really listen to our thoughts. I’ve heard lots of parents sharing their worries on their children missing graduations, sporting events, school shows, and leavers assemblies and it just emphasises all the experiences we will never have with Charlie.”
Catriona speaks of the “Intensified” feelings. I can empathise during my own experience of furlough where I found some days my brain had a free run of my head. It never helped matters that Kyles birthday was also approaching fast. It’s something shared by Stacey, who talks of her daughter Olivia and her experience of lockdown.
““Life in lockdown is tough when you’ve lost a baby. Anyone I ask feels the same, all the strong group of parents I’ve met along the way. I feel the only bit of sanity we have is relationships with family, friends or like me. my ‘sands’ pals as people often refer to them as. Yeah, we have a group message but it’s not the same. Heading along to my local support group every month is my escape. My escape where I can witter on about her and no one gets fed up. Maybe they do but I don’t feel judged for talking about her. I could talk aaaaall day about my daughter, but I feel like society probably inwardly roll their eyes and think .. next topic. I know they don’t, but this is just I how feel. I am not a zoom person; I would never pop on the iPad and sit blethering away to others. I hate FaceTime at best of times so I’m not you’re go to choose for trying to keep relationships up, especially during lockdown.”
“April the 4th and it’s a lovely morning already! The one day of the year that should have me bouncing out of bed to see sheer excitement on a beautiful little face. The first date in my entire life that has real purpose, one of those dates that you don’t forget or have to second guess it .. yep I’m married too ?! As the tears stroll down my cheeks, I’m looking into big gazing blue eyes that just stare back. That kind of strong eye contact, the kind that tells you there’s a true real bond here. He’s probably sitting thinking “mummy, what are you doing? and why am I all wet when I’m not in that massive tub you seem to put me in all time?” See he doesn’t understand this big world yet, will he ever understand that before him we had a daughter? When will he realise that he has a big sister, but he just can’t see her?
Almost 2 years on from having my world fall to bits our rainbow baby arrived .. and what a bang to reality this has been. A screaming baby who doesn’t care if you’re upset, tired and just wanting ‘that’ time to yourself to grieve for even a few minutes whilst you look in a memory box or at photographs.
In our current lockdown situation during COVID-19 that means I can’t get the flowers I wanted, I can’t go and visit the cemetery whenever I want. Feeling like the only time of year I get to celebrate this little life and it’s stolen. This year I naively thought “its fine, this year will be different.” I mean I have a baby here, now right. Oh god how wrong am I. How wrong was I to ever marginally think a baby would fix you? Maybe I’m slipping into the minority of narrow-minded people when it comes to baby loss. Sometimes being a bit naive and taking a step back from your reality just eases that aching pain that’s always there. Somewhere deep inside there’s a hole that will never be fixed, a hole that will always remain my first pure love.
The Escape that Stacey speaks of is the support group run by SANDS (Still-birth & Neonatal Death Society). These groups now run across the entire United Kingdom and offer families a chance to feel safe and talk about their Children without the fear of being judged. I know personal of many who attend these groups and do call their friends “second family”.
Stacey also talks about coping under lockdown with a new baby or sometimes referred to as a “Rainbow Baby”, a term used to describe a Child born to a couple who have previously suffered a loss due to Miscarriage, Still-birth or death during Infancy. These subsequent pregnancies can bring strong feelings of anxiety, guilt, and even fear, but also “immense Joy, reflection, healing and mixed emotions”. Crucially, Stacey speaks of the raw honesty of having a new born and the challenges that come with it.
Our Baby will forever be our little one. I say that as a Father whose Son just celebrated his 11th birthday amongst the stars. I have days where I see him as my perfect little baby boy as well as other days, I imagine him taking no prisoners on the football field. No matter how much time lapses, he will forever be my Son.
This leads me onto my chat with Jude. Jude bravely opens up on losing her Son, Andrew only 1 year ago to Suicide. Andrew was only 20 years of age. Jude spoke of him, “I lost Andrew just over a year ago now. At 20yrs of age he took his own life. So, it was only a year when all the craziness of Covid-19 hit us and lockdown soon to follow. Crisis – yes, I have been recovering from it for a year, only to be thrown into another. Suddenly people all around me are frightened, anxious, upset, unsure, isolated, restricted. Welcome to my world, it feels like.”
Jude speaks from the perspective of a parent who has lost their child at an older age. She goes on and explains the impact that Covid 19 has had in stirring up emotions.
“At the beginning of the crisis hitting the UK, I was in full motion organising and setting up community groups, getting bids for funding them. All helping others to help themselves. I was also boarding dogs, so most of the time had at least 8 or 12 little paws padding around me all the time. All of this just went! No more dogs. Community groups gather – No more gathering! My momentum just carried on, the need to keep going and keep myself occupied was still there but caught up in the turmoil of the changes that were happening. I managed to continue ‘going’ with several bits and pieces to do with work but could feel myself dropping and having to face who I am now, and what happened. The floods of tears like just after we lost him came back. Every night sobbing at the loneliness I felt and that I will never see him again. And massive anxiety about my other son who is 24 and how the change would affect him. So far, he has regressed back into being a teenager, grumping at me, staying in his room all the time, and only appearing for beer and meals. He tells me he is bored but Ok.
Jude & Andrew
Then questions started coming: What would Andrew have felt about all of this? How would he have coped? If things had been different on the day he went, how would we be managing now with him? I can only imagine. I think he would have been very intrigued with it, loving the fact that so many films have been made about similar crises and that we are living in a surreal time that we hope won’t be repeated.”
So many questions. As a bereaved parent we are continually faced with a what if? Always some form of torment that we could have done something more even if deep down we accept we did nothing wrong. It’s a natural feeling of having to blame somebody and often we end up blaming ourselves when it could not be further from the truth.
I will post a link to some Suicide awareness groups with Jude’s blessing at the end of this blog.
As Grief attacks you, it never goes away, we simply learn to live with it and deal with whatever it throws at us when the time is right. Even 20 years on we are still dealing with our emotions. Karen lost her Son Craig over 20 years ago and to this day feels it.
“Why didn’t they listen I told them that something was wrong I told them, but they wouldn’t listen. Why didn’t I shout louder I was alone when they told me you had gone? They took into the labour suite with a big white butterfly on the door it’s funny you remember the little 27 years later I can still hear the silence of the room. I sit and wonder what you would be like I look at the star named after you 27 years ago I still live on without you my first born. A silent room A silent tear all alone you came into the world born silent that day a part of me went with you. You live on in my heart and the star in the sky”
27 years. I can only imagine it feels like an eternity for Karen who has bravely shared her words.
Does this yellow brick road have an ending? Some days especially during lockdown I have questioned it. Will we ever find our emerald city? Or will we have to settle for Cubic Zirconia? Looks pretty but isn’t the authentic world we crave. The Wicked witch is safely tucked up in her castle as even she wouldn’t want to catch Covid19!
One road I have travelled these last few years has been social media. Now don’t get me wrong, it has more than its fair share of wicked characters. However, on my own path, I have encountered some truly special people. Other parents I have never met yet we have become good friends. I find the power of social media immeasurable when it’s for the greater good. Twitter especially, where you can chat to like minded people without fear of judgment.
One Father I spoke with was Lenny, who shared his thoughts about his daughter, Elliot.
“My wife Jen first fell pregnant in 2012. We were over the moon and couldn’t believe that we were starting a little family. We started planning our future – decorating rooms, talking about names, boy or girl? It was all incredibly exciting. We were still in the clouds when Jen miscarried. We had a few weeks of joy and then it was taken away from us in a heartbeat. We were heartbroken and couldn’t get our heads round why this had happened – why us? What did we do wrong? Was this really happening? So many questions. We had more questions than answers but decided that we would try again. And not long after Jen was pregnant but had another miscarriage. And then another. And another. We were at a loss as to why this was happening. We spoke to Dr’s, specialists and had tests. Everything was ‘normal’ and there was no reason why we had been so unlucky. In late 2013, we found ourselves expecting again. This time it was different. The miscarriages had occurred in the early stages of pregnancy and here we were going for a 12-week scan. Everything looked good during the scan, and as is normal, we were to go back for the 20-week scan. I remember that day clearly. We couldn’t wait to see the little one again and could barely contain ourselves. During the scan, everything appeared to be going normally, heartbeat and movement were all good. We were relieved and happy. The scan continued and a few seconds before the nurse mentioned it, I noticed a strange looking black patch on our little one’s tummy. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it shouldn’t be there. The nurse left the room for a bit before returning to tell us there was a problem with our baby. Our little girl, who we named Elliot, was diagnosed with a condition called CDH – Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia. This is a hole where the diaphragm should be and in Elliot’s case it was on the left-hand side of her body. All her organs were being pushed into her chest cavity, putting pressure on her lungs and heart. We were devastated. The sinking feeling from being on top of the world to numbness is indescribable. To know that your little one is poorly and there’s nothing you can do to help her is difficult to describe – frustration, anger and helplessness only touch the surface. Because of her condition, Elliot was susceptible to other medical problems. The prognosis wasn’t good – if Elliot survived, she would have medical complications that would be difficult to manage. We were presented with a choice – but the answer would always be to continue with the pregnancy. We would give her every chance. It was incredibly heart-breaking – we could feel her wriggling about and kicking away, and this made us so happy. But knowing that she was so poorly always tempered our joy. The tests for other conditions came back negative and it was at this point we thought that maybe, just maybe, she’ll make it and we’ll have our little girl. Jen was 7 months pregnant when Elliot lost her fight. She’d not felt any movements for a while and although we had had periods of inactivity, this had lasted longer than any other. We went to the local maternity unit in Peterhead who sent us down to the Infirmary in Aberdeen and it was here we were told that we had lost her. The fight was just too much for her little body. The days after were a blur. The hospital staff were amazing (aren’t they always?). We were able to spend time with Elliot, read stories and took away memories that we will treasure forever. But three of us went into hospital and only two of us came out. The feeling of loss is only exacerbated by the surroundings – happy parents seemingly everywhere, walls decorated in bright colours, toys etc.”
A few days later we had a private service for Elliot. The coffin was so small and seeing it was overwhelmingly heart-breaking. I couldn’t grasp that our little girl was inside it and there was nothing we could do to help her”
Poignant words from Lenny. From one Father to another I thank him for sharing this.
Kellie is a friend of mine who I have followed on social media. Kellie raised crucial awareness in the name of the Son, Henry who will be 3 in just a few days’ time. Kellie kindly shared her thoughts on being a Mum and the challenges in lockdown.
“I struggle to remember what life was like before my baby boy Henry. I try to remember what it was like to feel carefree, to know a life without this pain, to be normal again. In some ways I feel like it was only months ago that I was in hospital trying to cram a lifetime of memories into a few days. Then on the other hand it feels like I have always been stuck in this bubble and it is a living hell.”
“I think of my time in hospital and have so many regrets .. why didn’t I sing my baby more songs, take more photos, cuddle and kiss him 100 more times? I think back to a time when I naively thought because I was pregnant that I would take my baby home at the end of it. I didn’t know that there was another side to pregnancy, the one when you don’t actually get to take your baby home. One where your baby doesn’t grow up. One where you are robbed of all the things being a parent symbolises. I live in two worlds; one where I am so proud to be Henrys mum and scream it from the rooftops and the other where I pretend, I’m just fun and carefree.”
Kellie continues about how she is coping under lockdown with a special birthday just days away. “Lockdown has been a strange time for people. I know it has affected me in different ways. The massive thing that has been playing on my mind throughout is that Henry’s birthday is in May. I could never have foreseen that lockdown would continue for that length of time, but it has definitely been my worry that this would be the outcome. The dread of his birthday without my mum and dad to comfort me.”
“Every year I like to have every detail of Henry’s birthday planned months in advance as I feel it helps keep me busy and it minimises the impact a little. I normally pick a wreath and check to make sure every detail is correct. But nothing is normal at the minute. I have worried that I wouldn’t be able to find a florist, so I ordered my own oasis and have been learning to make wreaths at home. Another talent I never thought I would require … One of the wreaths I made I left at the cemetery at Easter for Henry and it felt extra special as it was made by his mummy.”
“Navigating the rules of non-essential journeys has been difficult because to me visiting the cemetery often is essential for my mental health. I have made journeys to the cemetery for some quiet time to reflect and be close to Henry.”
“I have an obsession with ensuring Henrys grave is always looking perfect. It’s the only thing I have to show that I would have been a good mum. I think like most bereaved parent you always feel you have to justify to others that you are a mum. I ensure it is always clean, tidy and stones that are bleached so much I’m sure you can see them in Heaven. Between Henrys two Grans and I there are always fresh white flowers. His Auntie however likes to break my rules and place bright flowers down. I fear someone going to visit him one day and it being untidy and them thinking I don’t care anymore. When someone tells me, they have been to visit Henry it means the world to me that people have took time out of their day to go visit.
During lockdown the one thing I’m definitely missing is the face to face support I receive through Sands. I am missing this support network and hope the meetings can resume soon. I have met some great people at these meetings who I know I can call on when I feel myself struggling. I went to my 1st meeting 3 weeks after giving birth to Henry. I was terrified; I was scared of being judged for being on my own. This was never an issue. The meetings are my Henry time when I can go and say exactly how I am feeling without being judged. I can say things I would never say to a “normal mum” as they would be horrified to know how the brain of a bereaved parent works. Each month I can speak as much as I want about Henry and repeat that same story over and over. That’s the only story I have about Henry. I know people would never admit it, but they must get bored listening to me telling the same story again. I love to add into any conversation with friends of oh yeah remember this happened when I was pregnant, and they must think in their heads oh here we go again.”
One Face that Kellie will be missing and knows very well is Stacey, who also reflects on the feeling most of us can relate to, “Groundhog Day” but crucially she talks of the positives.
So, we’re stuck in this house with nothing to do. Everyday feels like Groundhog Day. The baby is now in a half decent routine too which is good, in fact it’s great but every day is the same. Every day he gets up at the same time, feeds at the same time, I don’t get to have a shower at the same time. Yeah having a baby kind of makes you like the toon mink, maybe lockdown isn’t a bad thing just now as I rock the baggy-eyed, greasy hair, leggings and a top kind of look. Daddy’s out working non-stop and some days I feel like I’m going at this solo. It’s time like this you need to rely on that network. The network you’ve spent your whole life creating so in that instant when you fall, there’s a net to catch you.
I can’t go visit any friends for a good old bit of grub and a greet. I can’t go to my mums for a mug of her specially brewed tea, it always tastes better when mum makes a mug of tea doesn’t it? All my work colleagues who are now pals, we haven’t what’s app’d as much ever I don’t think as we do now. All the people I’ve relied on these past 2 years and where are they now? Of course, they’re still there but it’s oh so different. Life is so different and lonely right now yet somehow, I just power on through. All of these people are the ones who get me by. Who ask how I’m feeling and mention the name “Olivia” and it brings such joy when I hear people say her name out loud? She did live on this earth and people do remember she existed. They remember she still exists in me and now in her little brother.
Stacey paints a picture of real life. Not the manufactured image we sometimes feel we need to portray to the outside world. I cannot applaud her highly enough. For sharing this.
Positives we find.
In this new world we find ourselves in, we ask ourselves where are we going? We all know that Dorothy is left with huge disappointment when all is not as it seems when the curtain is revealed. In a way its similar with Covid 19. The holidays we should have had are a distant memory, the birthdays we should be celebrating are consigned to history and the anniversaries we face for our little ones are now magnified beyond the intensity of the Hubble telescope.
How do we adapt? What positives if any can we take? One of the real inspirations I have taken from other bereaved parents is their ability to see the hope out of the worst pain. To see a flicker of light in a sea of darkness. That’s what gets me up every day as I search for my own “Emerald City”. As Dorothy discovered, sometimes we search for the qualities of life that we had all along. Its just a case of looking close enough.
For Catriona, Charlie had his 3rd birthday during lockdown, and she shares how they marked it.
“As a family we make an extra special effort to celebrate him on his birthday and even though this year we were in lockdown we still did that. It was different…not bad…just different. As much as I longed to go visit some special places or have the freedom to do what I wanted, I still treasured the wonderful time we had celebrating him. We took time to talk just about him, painted stones to decorate our garden, read stories about loss to our other children, roasted marshmallows and had a BBQ. Above all this we decided it was the right time to share photos of Charlie with two of our other children for the first time. They loved seeing their brother. My heart was bursting as I felt they were connecting more with their brother. They deserved to see him. I’m not sure we would have had that “magical moment” as we call them if we hadn’t had been in lockdown. I suspect we would have allowed the distractions of normal life get in the way of remembering Charlie.”
A wonderful example of the positivity flowing from such a special family. I have had the pleasure of meeting Catriona and her family. They are simply phenomenal. Caring, friendly and passionate about raising awareness. They have held several Fundraisers for SiMBA in Charlies name, and have support from many.
Stacey also adds:
Last year we done our first 5k in her memory. Now, anyone who knows me would laugh at the thought of me running. I would rather run for my local takeaway if it were closing early on a Saturday night, every week a takeaway is a ritual in our house! Again, this year I thought “it’ll be different, he’s here now.” I’m gonna get him the cuuuuutest matching top to mines, the whole family wore them last year. We’re going to raise even more money than we did last year and donate to SANDS, all in memory of my little girl. The one who made me a Mumma, the one who taught me there’s no love in the world than the one for your child. But yep you guessed it, the run is cancelled too! My whole life feels cancelled at the minute. Like everything I planned this year just gone, like how everyone is feeling, I guess. I mean surely, I could maybe just catch a break. Like surely after everything that’s happened, I deserve to just enjoy a baby. Enjoy all the first trips out to places, enjoy taking him to visit where I spend a lot of time at Olivia’s resting place. It’s all robbed though.
Some days it’s like you’re running on adrenaline and its bedtime before you know it. Other days it’s like the breath is being drawn from you and you feel like you’re suffocating in this grief. I look at my son, sometimes the spitting last image I have of his sister and think would she have done this? Would she be having a tantrum because she’s so tired but yet won’t sleep? Would she have the biggest grin in the morning when I stick my head in the crib? I am oh so blessed with bundle I’ve been given and cherish him even more than I think I would have under different circumstances but sometimes you can’t help but think these what ifs. I mean if Olivia were here, he definitely would not be .. and that’s a real tough one to get your head round!
Lockdown has me overthinking everything, I have every day to just sit and think. Yeah, I moan I’m busy with a new baby but every day I have a window of opportunity when he’s sound asleep where I can just reflect. I’d like to hope I’m doing her proud and that she’s happy she has a brother now. I’d like to think that she liked her flowers she got on her birthday, not the ones I had initially planned but she still got a beautiful little teddy bear. I’d like to think that next year when life can be normal/ish that we’ll take part in that run again and do her memory justice. I’m just praying for better days when my thoughts don’t get the better of my already jumbled mind.
I’m just winging this life, craving a hug from family and friends, looking forward to buying a decent bunch of flowers for Olivia and hoping I do this parenting thing at least half decently along the way. Mama of 2 always.
Stacey signs off with the most beautiful words, “mama of 2 always”. Her pride of being a mum to both her children. Despite all the setbacks and the challenges, she has listed with her powerful words, she still finds positivity. From the achievement of a 5k, to making the best of a bad situation and the beautiful birthday gifts for Olivia on her birthday. Stacey is one of our very own heroes, a nurse in our wonderful NHS. I have been told of her kindness towards others and being the most caring person, you will ever meet. Both of your children will be proud of such a Super Mum.
Karen is someone I have also met on social media. A caring and selfless individual who goes above and beyond for others. Indeed, when it looked as if my lockdown would mean I potentially miss Kyles birthday, Karen placed flowers and lit a candle for my boy. An act of kindness for a complete stranger. Karen has also volunteered for the Zephyrs appeal, based out of Nottingham city hospital supporting families who have suffered the loss of a child. This came after Karen and her family donated a “Cuddle Cot” – A specially cooled Cot that allows parents to spend precious extra time with their Angel. Karen is a truly wonderful person who is a credit to her family and Craig.
Karen also has her Rainbow baby, Liam who is now 26 years old. Her “Miracle” as she calls him after she also tragically lost his twin that she was carrying.
Karen’s final thoughts are beautiful.
“Each Christmas and birthday we celebrate him because he is and they are still part of our life’s they are part of us and always will be”
Jude completes her experience of lockdown with her positives.
“It has given me time to slow down and take stock – I’m not one to sit and ponder but something’s going on in my sleep and dreams. They say loss hurts. It certainly does. And for me that hurt has moved around. Mostly it’s hurt in my muscles, with aching pain in a different muscle each day. I feel I’d be better off just sitting and watching TV, but I know that getting on, doing yoga, walking and being generally active will slowly help to ease the pain. This has taken sheer determination, especially when it feels like Groundhog Day most days! This past week it is also gone to my teeth, with tooth ache most days. I’ve had it before; I grind my teeth! And then when the grief takes over, pain in my heart like it’s going to shatter into pieces and the tears come. But slowly time moves on. On the whole, I’m actually enjoying the slower pace, enjoying watching the flowers coming out, being creative with drawing, learning to play the ukulele, playing in Zoom meets with other Samba band members and putting videos together of lockdown Funk. That has been great fun, and I know Andrew would have loved it all. I am also connecting better than ever before with my family via Zoom and messenger. We even had a virtual BBQ last night, each off us cooking our own food and chatting. I cannot remember the last time we felt so relaxed in each other’s company!”
Jude is someone else whose story I have followed closely. Always offering an ear to anyone in need. Her kind words never far away. To lose her Son after 20 years, yet through lockdown she is emerging with the incredible positives listed above. From learning the Ukulele to Virtual barbeques. Hope can disguise itself in many forms and will find a way to shine.
Lenny, like Stacey shares his Joy about his precious Rainbow baby Dylan.
“Like many others stuck at home during the lockdown, I’m finding household tasks and chores to keep me occupied. The good weather is very welcome and has given my wife and I an opportunity to spend time tidying up the garden and get the vegetable patch going.
We are assisted by our daughter Dylan, who turned 5 mid-April. Her big party was cancelled, but we were lucky enough to get out in the garden, enjoy the sunshine and make the most of it. We’re also lucky enough that our neighbours have two similar aged children, who could help her celebrate and have socially distanced fun. Dylan dearly misses her friends – Zoom calls with her wee pals help, but she gets upset because she can’t visit them or go to nursery or the park. This has often led to her commenting that she ‘wished she had a sister or brother to play with’.
Less than a year later our daughter Dylan was born. Throughout the pregnancy, Jen received excellent care from the NHS. Dylan is now a typical 5-year-old girl, asking lots of questions, inquisitive and always wanting to play. As I mentioned earlier, every so often she’ll say that she wished she had a sister or brother – someone to play with. We haven’t told her about Elliot, that’s for the future, but I sometimes find myself watching Dylan play, imagining her bigger sister beside her, playing and laughing with her.
Throughout these tough years, Jen was incredible – she never wavered in her determination. The physical and emotional toll was obvious at the time and it’s still visible now. Jen and I tried again a couple of years ago, but this most recent pregnancy resulted in another miscarriage, which then developed into a cancer scare and ended up with Jen being admitted to hospital to be treated for pneumonia. This was a scary time, but thankfully Jen fully recovered and is back to full health.
The lockdown has brought lots of emotions to the surface – frustration, sadness and tension too. But it’s also given us more time with Dylan – watching her learn and play and grow all day, every day for the last 6 weeks or so has been amazing. Spending all this time with her will be one of the few good things that being on lockdown has enabled us to do.
I had never thought of it before, but did anything good come from losing Elliot? Previously I would automatically have said no, how could it? But there has been – Jen rekindled her love for a childhood passion that she probably wouldn’t have been able to; we might not have had Dylan; and we got stronger as a couple.
We choose to celebrate on Elliot’s birthday – there is obvious sadness and tears are shed, but we light a candle and raise a glass to her. We talk about what she would have been like and what her future could have held. Elliot gave us tremendous joy and unbearable sadness, but we take strength from the short time that we had with her and know that one day we’ll see her again.”
“We’ll see her again” emotive and powerful words. Talking about the sunshine even when the world feels like it is in darkness. Talking about “Zoom” and the ways we are keeping our children connected with their friends in this most testing time. Sharing memories of the future Elliot should have had whilst embracing all the good things life has given them when they would easily be forgiven for not doing so. Lenny is another friend I have made via social media. Someone who is an always an ear for others.
We have heard both Lenny and Stacey speak of their Rainbow babies. I also have one and I openly share the love I have for my daughter who fills our life with happiness after our sadness. I’m also acutely aware that it is not always possible, and heart breaking for those who sadly cannot have.
Kellie talks of her experience also of Rainbow babies and the other side of the discussion that is heart-breaking for those who cannot for various reasons have another child after loss.
I have grieved for every missed milestone
Over the 3 years I have watched all the “new girls” arrive then watched them go on to have their rainbow babies. I’ve watched my brother welcome his baby girl, friends having new babies and each time it has ripped another piece of me away. Each time I feel myself grieve again for what II don’t have. I have grieved for every missed milestone, from his first cry, first steps, hearing him say Mummy, I was robbed of ever knowing the colour of his eyes. I am finally allowing myself to accept this is my life. I have dreamed of doing all of the stuff a normal mum should do, except now I’m learning I won’t ever to get to experience being a mum the same as my family and friends. This has been a painful thing to accept.
The last two years I have organised a 5km fun run to raise awareness and funds for SANDS and planning was in full swing when Covid-19 started flooding the news channels. I kept holding off making the decision to cancel the run as it is so important to me and others. The run has become a date in the calendar for families to come together publicly and remember their babies. Some who have participated in the run have never spoke of their baby before, this allows them a starting
platform to say their babies name. My biggest achievement from the run was never the amount of money it was always that moment when I stopped and looked around me and saw the impact that stillbirth has on families and their lives. Seeing my “mum friends” grouped with their own families and friends sharing this day, makes me feel so proud that I have achieved this. I always schedule the run next to Henrys birthday as it gives me a focus and distraction on the lead up. This year I won’t have this and will be home alone with my own thoughts. For me I have said lots in the last 3 years that my own thoughts are my worst enemy. Everyone comments on how strong I am however I don’t broadcast on the days when I have hit rock bottom, the days when I has all became too much for me and I’ve gave up. I’m not proud of these days but they are all part of my story the same as the high points.
So, this year on Henrys birthday I will take my wreath to the cemetery and hopefully spend the day in the sunshine with my baby. It’s not how it should be, I know exactly how it should be as this year he turns 3, the age I know more about then any other age. I work in a nursery full of 3-year olds I should be taking Henry with me this year. In some ways covid-19 has made the start of this new term seem a little less daunting. I have been thinking for months of how I will cope with the new children starting nursery when I know Henry should be doing the same. There are times I look at 3-year olds and realise I’m no longer missing a baby; I’m missing my 3-year-old.”
I will continue to keep Henrys memory alive every year in hope that it will help another newly bereaved parent to see its okay to speak their babies name.
I’m not sure what will happen regarding lockdown and when this will be over. But what I know is bereaved parents are strong and they learn to adapt and that is all I can keep doing at the minute.”
Kellie is an inspirational human being. What Kellie hasn’t told is she has raised in excess of £60k pounds for Sands UK in Henrys name. bringing families together for a 5k run and raising crucial awareness. Someone who has a heart of absolute gold and is always an ear for other parents. Kellie talks of her role as a nursery teacher and I have nothing but admiration for her considering how difficult it must be. Heroic is a term that does not do her justice. The positives from making her own wreath, hand crafted from his Mummy. If anyone has shone during this time, it most definitely is Kellie and all the incredible parents who have taken the time to talk.
For me, I have always symbolised Rainbows with hope. They guided us home as we travelled 100 miles to lay Kyle to rest. They have appeared in the sky on days we simply needed one when life was having a kick. They remind me that even in our darkest hours, the sun will always rise and after the storm, we will have that light to guide us through.
AS for our Yellow brick road? Well it leads to wherever we decide to. Our own emerald city can be whatever we want it to be. We can be forgiven for stumbling; we can be forgiven for having days where we do get caught up in the emotion. We are human and its this very feelings that define us. We will have days where we see The Wicked witch everywhere, we turn. We will have days where we feel we are under attack. We will have days where we close our eyes and wish for the world to be back to the “home we once had”. Again, it’s all ok.
We are all on separate paths as each journey is unique. We are all parents with a common undying love and bond for our children.
I will give Judy Garland my last words which for me sum up my hopes for the future.
“Somewhere over the Rainbow, Skies are blue And the dreams you dare to dream Really do come true”
Every Story has a beginning. This one began on a Clear night in the West Highlands of Scotland on Tuesday April 21st 2020.
I’m in my Garden on a clear spring night, eagerly anticipating the Lyrids Meteor shower. I’m with my Wife and 10-year-old daughter, with the latter snuggled up with me and her blanket. The Sky is Crisp, and as the blue slowly fades onto the horizon, one by one we see the Sky start to switch on. Millions of Twinkling stars now above us as we look for the one part of our life that is Missing. Our Son, Kyle.
11 years ago, our Journey began into Parenthood. The Short-lived Joy after our perfect little Boy came into the world asleep. Our world simply crashed around us. Our last 11 years have been a rollercoaster and our Blue-eyed Boy has been an integral part of it. He has inspired us and shown us how to be better human beings. We have his Special little sister and of course his brave Mummy beat cancer. Quite a Journey in the World we once knew.
As we sat and watched the Glistening Sky smiling back at us, our eyes captured the most magnificent Shooting star. The small gasp in the splendour was a moment I will bottle and keep forever as I witnessed her close her eyes and “Make a wish”. This was when reality hit me. We have forever looked to the Stars for our one that shines bright. Our symbol of hope. Tonight in this perfect setting, we didn’t just see our Star. We saw Millions Shining back at a world that is unrecognisable from just a few short Months ago. A world witnessing a Pandemic unknown to this generation. Unprecedented times for humanity. A Life of Lockdown.
Its not the same as World War 2 that we have seen so much about. We are not in hiding from bombs, but from an invisible enemy. We are losing the simple liberties that we have all taken for granted since our forefathers gave their own lives on the beaches of Normandy and beyond to ensure we could live the life they would never see. Families now in their 6th week of separation, Children’s laughter no longer echoing around the streets and our High streets now deserted apart from the necessity of Food shopping. Even during the years of the Cold War, we didn’t see a deep Freeze on our lives as brought by Covid-19.
Those Stars staring back at us have been our symbol of hope for 11 years. This hope wont just belong to our family as we face a 1st Birthday in 11 years not seeing Kyle. This will be affecting the families of all those little stars waving back at us. Now more than ever we are in this together in this new world and Life under Lockdown. This isn’t just Kyle’s Story. This belongs to all of us.
This is part one of some inspirational stories that deserve to be heard.
Lockdown
“I’m currently furloughed and it’s the longest I’ve been off my work since I was 17. I’ve been off longer now than I was when Sofia passed away” Robert tells me. “. We haven’t been to her grave since the Sunday before the lockdown started. It hurts! Every Sunday since the end of 2015 she had a visitor, I feel like I’ve left my little girl outside and I can’t get to her”
We have been friends for 4 years now since meeting whilst raising awareness for our kids. Robert, KellyLouise and of course Sofia have become a huge part of our life and I would encourage anyone to read his blog. http://www.264hoursforsofia.wordpress.com
Robert added, “Lockdown has been weird for us to be honest. Yes, it’s been absolutely hard. Not seeing grandparents and doing our day to day things. No soft play for Angelo, no baby sensory for Lucia. Angelo cried when my Mum phoned one night because he missed his gran so much.”
Sofia’s story in Particular we will touch upon later as the world deserves to know a little more about this quote incredible girl and the footprint she is leaving behind.
Sentiments Echoed by Shelley and her Journey so far without her little one, Bailey-Jo. Shelley adds, “During lockdown it has been so hard because it was Bailey’s anniversary on the 29th of March, and we were not allowed to go home for lockdown reasons. It’s been difficult during this time and I have some days where all I do is cry and question if I will ever be a mum” Shelley has tragically suffered 6 Miscarriages and 1 “Ectopic” pregnancy prior to giving Birth to Bailey-Jo. An ectopic pregnancy occurs when a fertilized egg implants and grows outside the main cavity of the uterus. It can be fatal to the Mother if not treated promptly.
“First time in my life I heard the words “congratulations mummy here is your baby” I heard the heartbeat. The nerves totally disappeared and all that filled me was love and excitement! Got given the first photo of our little miracle! Went home and all I did was rest, was scared to do anything. Having 7 previous losses made me a nervous wreck. 5 weeks had passed, and it was time for our other scan, I couldn’t wait to hear the heartbeat again and see my baby. The cold jelly was applied again, and I looked at the nurse with a massive smile on my face. Something was wrong, something wasn’t right. The nurses face dropped and at that point I knew something was not how it should be. I said “is everything ok” she said “let me just go and get a doctor and I’ll be back in a second” that 5 minutes she was away felt like an hour. The doctor came in looked at the screen and said “I’m sorry Shelley but your baby isn’t where it should be” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was having another ectopic! I questioned about the baby being in the correct place at my first scan, but the doctor looked and actually the baby wasn’t in the correct place. This could have killed me, and I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. An hour later I was in surgery having my baby removed. The healing process was ok and 4 weeks passed when I got a phone call from the hospital and their words were “Shelley your baby is ready to collect” I went to collect baby and I received a beautiful box with so many lovely things in it! It made it feel that little bit better receiving something to beautiful.
From England and back to the Highlands of Scotland and Louise shares her life under Lockdown in Aviemore with her family and in particular her Son Malachy.
“At 11am on 25th November 2009, Malachy was born into this world. He opened his eyes and I looked directly into them. I will always remember those beautiful brown eyes, as it was the only time I got to before he was whisked away to SCBU. Little did I know it would be the only time he would open them. 6 hours and 15 minutes later he took his last breath and peacefully passed away in my arms. I was in complete denial. Fast forward over 10 years. Did I think I would get here? Honestly…. no. Grief is strange, it surrounds you, its grabs hold of you when you least expect it. I yearn to hold my baby again.”
“His funeral was in a beautiful tiny Chapel on the grounds at Belladrum. Many of you will know it as the place that ‘Belladrum weddings’ happen during the festival. He was laid to rest in a beautiful white willow basket, Willie carried him into the Chapel and to his resting place. His big brothers organised a piper and played ‘Dark Island’. We laid him to rest in Kilvean cemetery so he could play in the playground with all the other babies he joined. If we had buried him in our village we would have never left.”
I Met Louise, along with Robert. Both of them volunteer for SiMBA charity and raise crucial awareness in memory of their children and also Thousands of pounds in the process with the work they do. You can see their work on their website http://www.simbacharity.org.uk and I would urge anyone to have a look at the work they do.
On Lockdown, Louise added further about the challenges her family have faced in this strange new time we find ourselves in. “We now find ourselves in lockdown and all I want to do now is visit his graveside. Tend to the weeds, to say a few words, to cry. It’s funny how you look at things differently when a situation is forced upon you, when your choice is taken away, but it’s a temporary thing. When this is all over, we’ll visit him, tend to those weeds, tell him what’s been going on, and perhaps cry, but most importantly, we’ll tell him that we love him, and we always will.”
Susan from Argyll speaks of her life near Oban, just a short Drive from myself in Fort William.
Susan adds,” We are blessed with 4 daughters ~ Charis is 15, Alex is 12, Niamh is 11 and Eilidh Beth is 9. Sadly, Alex and Eilidh Beth celebrate every birthday in Heaven.
As I write this it is 36 days since our girls set foot in their schools … 36 days since they saw their friends, peers and teachers … 36 days since we did the 30 minute school run to Dunbeg Primary & Oban High School … 36 days since I set foot in my workplace … 36 days since I last saw the smiling faces of my students … 36 days since I last sat having my morning coffee with my team at school … 34 days since we last visited my parents & brother … 34 days since my husband & children got in the car and left the village … 36 days since we experienced a ‘normal’ day. These are unprecedented times ~ our girls are experiencing a living history, a time that their children will learn about in school ~ the Coronavirus (COVID-19) Pandemic.
“And what about the fear of contracting COVID-19? Would they be level-headed like their living sisters, who, on the whole, try not to stress too much about contracting it, and only really worry when I go to work? Or would they be terrified, wondering if they were going to catch it? I also wonder about Eilidh Beth, who has Down’s Syndrome, and her vulnerability to COVID-19 ~ would she be more at risk, would she be in the shielding group?”
On the thoughts of restrictions in place about memorials and anniversaries, Susan shared her experience on this with her girls and the situation her family find themselves in.
“Hubby, the girls and I got up at 5am this morning, choosing to take our daily exercise then to welcome in the sunrise. As we left the house to walk along to the local cemetery, my thoughts turned to those who are unable to visit their loved one’s graves due to travel restrictions. For so many, especially for parents who have lost a child, that weekly or monthly visit to their loved one’s grave is an incredible source of comfort and strength, giving them a sense of connection to their loved one. Not being able to visit a grave, or special place, can have negative consequences on our grief journey, so at times like this it’s vital to find other ways to mark their memory, and to talk to others who understand the pain of not visiting their special place.”
“We don’t have a grave for Alex and Eilidh Beth – we don’t know what happened to Alex’s remains and we chose cremation for Eilidh Beth because we knew eventually we would be moving from Inverness to Argyll, so we didn’t want to leave her there. So, we have never had a grave to visit, our special place was first the Inverness Tree of Tranquillity, then the Oban one. We are accustomed to finding other ways to remember them and take comfort in the countryside that we have ready access to. We take comfort in our belief that we will one day be reunited with our girls, that they run free with the angels in Heaven, not a care in the world, content. We take comfort that they are not experiencing the fear of this world.”
Opening up as a bereaved parent is one of the hardest things you can face in life. When you add on the social stereotyping we face, for a Father it can be particularly tough to open up as we are meant to “look after the family” or “be the strong one” I have openly spoken of this now for a few years and I can assure you the comfort I take and the strength I find come from other Parents coming forwards also. One of them is Danny, who shares how life is under covid19 without his little boy Daniel and also facing an anniversary along with his Wife Angela and 4-year-old son Cameron.
“Every year just before April, I seem to have a memory block. It’s the same thing every year, and I’m not even sure why it happens. But while my late son Daniel’s birthday
3rd April- will be etched in my mind forever.
it’s like my mind forces it out until as late as possible. Maybe it’s a subconscious coping mechanism, I’m not sure. But I’ll see his birthday pop up on my calendar and it goes in and out of my mind as easily as the British holidays marked in it –St George’s day or Bank Holiday Monday.
Then a few days before, it all stops, and I get a feeling of reliving that weekend we lost him all over again. I know it’s looming and I’m standing like a rabbit in the headlights once more. Reliving the moment Angela’s waters broke on the Friday, her in agony the whole weekend, giving birth in the house, the hospital again and finally breaking down in my mum’s arms in the Victoria A&E waiting room in front of dozens of people… and so on. It’s the one part of the experience I haven’t got to grips with entirely. Reliving the feelings is horrible. But I think it’s just how I cope with grief; I am pretty similar when my mum and dad’s anniversaries approach but I have accepted them better-their final days were expected and easier to come to terms with”
Danny echoes my own thoughts as the 1st May Day Bank Holiday approaches fast. This was when we had the painful news that our own little Boy was asleep and is the start of the trigger mechanism for the memories to flood back. A time of year that is difficult enough already without these new restrictions we all face. The coping mechanisms we have become accustomed to or indeed look to try are now removed. Its not easy and you can suffer the most anguished thoughts.
Danny continued “We have a little plaque on a toadstool in a crematorium near East Kilbride. Daniel’s is right next to Ellie, his cousin who was sadly taken from her mum in similar circumstances.
We visit the crematorium, tidy up the area, put new trinkets/flowers down, tell him what’s up in the world, and let Cameron say hi (Cameron is my son who is almost 4). My wife has other family at the crematorium so she pays her respects, we get back in the car, chill out for a bit at home then get a table at a local restaurant to have our steak pie and raise a glass to his memory.
Cameron tends to go to his grans on those nights, and Angela and I light candles in his, his brother’s and other babies’ memory. We used to let off a sky lantern or balloon too, but we’ve been more environmentally conscious about that in recent years.
Sometimes I don’t go to the crematorium, sometimes not to dinner, but in general we try to do something together and those are the things which tend to happen. All very normal, as normal can be for grieving our lost boy. But this year, that whole process has been turned on its head. Covid-19 has swept the planet and has had a jarring effect on every aspect of life as we know it. The crematorium isn’t open except for funerals with restricted numbers and social distancing in full effect, so paying our respects isn’t an option. All I can think of is how untidy his little bit must be. It sounds minor and I don’t get to visit often but it’s the simple things which hurt the most.””
“And of course, pubs and restaurants are closed, so going for a Croft steak pie simply isn’t an option either. And Cameron, who is 4 next month, can’t go to his grans either. So, there’s really little part of the day that we could keep in a normal sense. Instead we just had a “new normal” day. I pushed it to the back of my mind more, went into autopilot, looked after my wife, Cameron, the dog. But I’ve regretted it since but in my mind, I keep thinking I should have done something else. But what? His and Ellie’s toadstool is where he is when we go to talk to him. Dinner–I think I cooked. Or we got Chinese, I really can’t remember. It came and passed like any normal day. And that annoys me about it, because it was so unremarkable, I keep feeling like I’d let him down. And let my wife down.”
Danny bravely opens up about his “mind”. Mental health for bereaved parents is crucial. In the “Taboo” world we find ourselves in, many simply remain silent for the fear of the stigma that is attached to them. Counselling services provided by charities are a crucial lifeline to those who need that little bit of friendship at their time of need. SANDS (Still-Birth and Neonatal Death Charity) and Held in our Hearts are vital with the services they provide. Here are some of the figures direct from http://www.sands.org.uk website that shows the number of families impacted alone by Child loss.
Statistics from Sands show that Sadly, the death of a baby is not a rare event: around 14 babies die before, during or soon after birth every day in the UK.
Stillbirths In the UK in 2018, around 1 in every 250 births was a stillbirth. In total there were 2,929 stillbirths. That’s around eight babies stillborn every day Around one-third of stillbirths happen after 37 weeks of pregnancy Stillbirths account for more than half of the deaths of infants under one year in the UK Stillbirth rates remained largely unchanged from the late 1990s to 2011. From 2012 the rate started to fall. But more deaths could be prevented.
Neonatal deaths In the UK in 2018, 2,020 babies died within the four week of life. That’s one baby in every 360 births The number of babies who die in the neonatal period (the first 28 days after birth) has dropped over the last decade, largely because of advances in medical knowledge and clinical care. But recently the mortality rate has plateaued.
Definitions A stillborn baby is one who has died before or during birth, at or after 24 weeks of pregnancy. A neonatal death happens in the first 28 days after birth. Stillbirths and baby deaths that happen in the first seven days of life, are sometimes counted together and called perinatal deaths.
This is why, hearing other parents Like Danny, Robert, Louise, Shelley & Susan speak up is so important. to break down barriers and allow the Charities like SANDS & Held In our Hearts http://www.heldinourhearts.org.uk to offer the counselling services they do. I will list some links at the end of this blog.
Danny continues to explain how life under lockdown affects us all differently. “. I have coped okay all the same, but I have not opened up to anyone about how I’m feeling. I think that’s probably been as big a problem for me as being unable to go see Daniel’s plaque or take my wife for dinner. But it’s adjusting to all this that’s happening which may be a mild inconvenience to most but pulling the rug from under you in terms of how you cope with certain things.”
Somewhere over the Rainbow
As challenging as Covid19 is proving for all of us, we do have an inner resilience. When you lose a child in a way you can become numb to certain other situations. I say this from someone who recently lost their Father. The Experience of arranging Kyles Funeral 11 years ago undoubtedly gave me the inner strength to cope with losing my Father. The same applies to Covid 19. Its undoubtedly difficult, and as Danny quite rightly says, it may be a breeze for some, but everyone is fighting a different battle. The words “Be Kind” could not be more apt right now.
One thing I have taken from this journey is I have always been a “glass half full” type of person. Its heart warming when you look for inspiration and you see it in abundance. Rainbows have become the national symbol of hope in this crisis. For myself and many other bereaved parents, it has been our symbol of hope for many years. I have previously spoken of my Boy and the signs we take every time we see a Robin, a shooting star or indeed that precious Rainbow. A Rainbow baby is often the term used to describe the birth of a child into a family that has followed a loss. It is the hope many hold onto although it must sadly be said that not every family who yearn another child, can have one.
I try to focus on the hopes and dreams we share in this uncertain world. I will come to that later but first I will share the inspiration of my friends.
“I can tell you all the negatives in the world but I’m trying to see the positives, tomorrow is KellyLouise’s birthday and we are going have some nice cake and a brilliant lunch and have a play in the garden. Also, I’m getting to know my kids better, I’m playing football and interacting with my son every day all day. My first full day in the house after the lockdown was announce my baby daughter. Lucia kept looking at me as if to say why are you home! She kept smiling and the last five weeks I’ve been getting to see that big smile all day and it makes me smile. I’m lucky, I’m at home with two out of three of my children and my best friend KellyLouise. We miss Sofia every day, but we know she is looking out for us! I can’t wait till the day when I can go outside and see Sofia”
What Robert didn’t add was how much he has given in the name of Sofia. At 22 weeks and 3 days his little girl came into the world. Robert & his family have raised awareness for Child loss admirably. Their football tournaments have raised thousands of pounds for SiMBA as well as bringing parents together through a love of football. A Love we both share of Glasgow Rangers. This Father has tirelessly campaigned for the debate to be opened on Viability as Sofia in the eyes of the law missed out on being classed as a Still-birth by a mere matter of hours. I know This family and they will not give up without a fight, and they will win.
For Shelley, she has shared these touching words. “I’m a key worker and if I never had work to go to, I would be in a worse position than I am in just now. It’s been very hard! Now because of my 2 ectopics my only option is IVF so hopefully one day in the future I will have someone call me mum”
I’m going to add my own personal sentiments on Shelley’s Story. Someone who has suffered not the loss of a child once, but 8 times would be enough to keep any one down. Not this lady. her closing words being “so hopefully one day in the future I will have someone call me mum”. Even in her darkest hour, there is still hope shining through. That positivity is inspiring and incredible to see. Shelley is also a Key worker. Putting her health on the line to help the country. You are a hero and I’m sure I echo many other opinions when I say thank you for your service.
Louise also has positivity that is always evident. Every time you meet her or see her Social media posts, it’s forever a can-do attitude that lifts you when you have had a bad day yourself. Louise also added “Willie and I have always had different feelings about his graveside. We got him a beautiful slate stone and family and friends leave him mementos. I always felt disconnected at the graveside, I felt that it wasn’t him. His spirit had left him, but now it lives in his siblings and our hearts. Every butterfly, rainbow and Robin we see is as a sign of him saying “Hello, I’m thinking of you”.
“I will never stop grieving for our beautiful boy, but I am moving forward. I’m moving forward with him in my heart, he is part of our lives and always will be. We create memories. I always remember when Mia, our rainbow baby, asked mountain cafe for a table with 6 seats, an extra one for Malachy in case he wants to join us. Malachy’s siblings know who he is, they know he is their older brother, they know he died. I hope and pray that they never have to experience that horrible feeling of leaving the maternity unit with no child, of losing their first born or the constant thinking of ‘what if’
Louise’s last point is humbling and an honour to post on her behalf. The love that she has shown has rubbed off on her other children. The simplest gesture from Mia for her older brother should give hope and encouragement to each and every one of us. Children really can show the world how to act with Kindness, we could learn so much more from them.
Louise and her family have brought a lot of love and compassion to the Highlands. we are remote and do not have the same facilities in the larger cities. We do not have access to Counselling services as freely or any assistance when it comes to Child bereavement. Louise is a lifeline in her rural community. Not just for her support group but the Butterfly release she organises annually to bring other families together. Another shining example that Grief does not define you but can bring out the absolute best in you in the worst situation. I will attest that these releases are often poignant and a beautiful way of coming together.
Lastly for this blog and certainly not last Susan shares her hope for the future we have in these uncertain times.
“I think every bereaved parent has moments during their week, most days in-fact, when their thoughts turn to their child that died. We spend those moments wondering about how they would look, what their personality would be like, what they would enjoy, what they would hate, and, if we are blessed with living children, how they would get on with their siblings.”
As we adjust to life in Lockdown I often wonder what our household would be like with the 4 girls vying for attention, sharing my laptop to do their work, coordinating so that we can all get out the door together for our daily exercise, and how much food I would need to feed all of them and my hubby and I! My thoughts often linger on how Alex & Eilidh Beth would have coped with this new normal ~ would they be as resilient as their living sisters, who have relished (mostly!) their home learning and coped incredibly well with being cooped up, or would they be emotional and have meltdowns about their new way of living. “That’s the life of a bereaved parent, always wondering what life would be like if their child had lived.”
“In these troubling times we find hope in the positives, in the way our communities have pulled together to support the vulnerable households, in the way that key workers are keeping our country going, in the way that companies and organisations are stepping forward to lend support to so many. We must reach out to each other, lend an ear where needed, a virtual shoulder to lean on, or a virtual hug to show empathy and understanding.”
Susan has been campaigning for awareness with her family for a decade. They have travelled the length of the country to offer their support for others whilst Susan was the Highland Ambassador for SiMBA.
Susan is a Co-Founder and Trustee of a new SCIO, Anam Cara Fasgadh that is barely 12 months old – http://www.anamcarafasgadh.org Along with her husband Andrew and her Mother Irene who make up other Trustees. Their vision is to provide a much-needed respite accommodation for families who have lost a child. A free escape from a cruel world and one which they are determined to achieve. Once again turning their own heartache into something positive in the name of her children. Even now in the Lockdown, she is taking part in the 2.6 Challenge that is taking the nation by storm. You can find Susan’s challenge here – http://www.justgiving.com/team/thesimpsoncampers
I can assure you that Susan and her family’s dedication will pay off and they will achieve their dream. Along with their other 4 Trustees and Founders, Jenni, Niki, Claire and Myself we know it will work. This is also my own dream and one I’m so proud to be a part of with some amazing people.
I hope this has given a little insight into the life of 5 ordinary People achieving extraordinary things in memory of their little ones despite the world we live in. From Front line workers to Charity Volunteers. All have suffered one of the cruellest card’s life can deal you yet are still smiling, still optimistic and still caring for others in the hope they never suffer the same.
I’m proud of each and every one of them. I’m humbled for them allowing me to share their words and to talk about their precious children. I’m looking forward to introducing you to the next group of inspiring people who again light up this world with such enthusiasm.
We live in unprecedented times. Every day is an unknown as we look to survive. We will get through this. As long as Rainbows shine, as long as the Moon Glows and the Stars Sparkle. We are in this together now more than ever.
“Try to Be a Rainbow in someone’s cloud” Maya Angelou
Her tears run silently onto our pillow A heart lies broken on a cloud of pain I’m catching each droplet on their way down My emotions are hidden amidst the pouring rain
The world cannot see me, Yet I’m stood right here I’m holding our life upon my shoulders Whilst bound by my own silenced fear
They see right through the silhouette before them Tunnel vision carved from the stereotyped past Fathers are meant to stand tall and strong Pushing back their sorrow as the priority last
For every super power has an Achilles heel Imperfection a gift from humanity’s market stall She doesn’t know the man anymore staring back Wondering if he will ever come back at all
Maybe invisible to the outside world Playing the part they expect him to do An Oscar performance to those looking in Except to your conscience who can see right through
I find a corner where the cloak can come off Allowing a chance to release emotional drops Hidden away from an unforgiving world Pleading for this unimaginable pain to come to a stop
Loneliness becomes my new best friend Invisibility is the price I pay Longing for just one person to say the words How have you been? Are you ok?
I’m still the man you fell for all those moons ago This Ice Cold exterior is all smoke and mirrors you now see All my feelings trapped under the surface Locked away to protect you from me
Sometimes you can’t see the wood for the trees Actions you believed right thing to do Instead of mending her broken heart It has pushed her further away from you
Now Its time to remove the cloak And allow the world on your shoulders to fall Show your real face to the world Broken yet still standing dignified and tall
I’m not the Superman I pretend to be Nor the Invisible Man others couldn’t find My Sorrow is a real as any one else Sadly trapped too long in my mind
I’m holding my hand out to you Passing the key to my broken heart Letting you in at last to see the real me Never again should our love be apart
The world can now see me at last No longer transparent to anyone who looks My keyboard a therapeutic escape Allowing my feelings to write their own book
No more anonymous to play the part Dad’s are allowed to show we care too I’m shouting from the rooftops up high I’m your Father and I will forever love you
It’s a Saturday night. 2 sparkling glasses come to life with as the red grape flows from the bottle. A solitary candle is playing just for you both. A perfect meal and just the distraction of each other to lose yourself into the night. Sounds lovely? In reality you are more likely to see 2 souls in there life carrier staring into a small electrical screen, refreshing pages to see what photos others have had for dinner whilst ignoring the gem right under their nose.
Sound unfair? Maybe I’m being harsh. No doubt rewind 20 years and the dawn before the latest digital revolution. Mobile phones were an expensive newcomer to the world. Most socialising would be done using physical interaction and getting to know one another in person. Some from this era still cherish the art of conversation. Who would have thought the Television would be beaten for bad habits?
I’m a hypocrite as I write this on my latest smartphone. More or less my entire life squeezed into the palm of my hand.
I first found Social media a revelation. A chance to find old friends both from my armed forces days and also childhood. Some I hadn’t seen in over 20 years and the curiosity as well as happiness had been well and truly satisfied. The joy of being “reunited”
I then found myself falling out of love with the concept. What had become a useful tool to stay in touch with acquaintances worldwide was now becoming a vanity tool. I was now beginning to see the world split into 3 as technology advanced.
Reality, which would entail being dragged away from a screen.
False, seeing people create an image of themselves that couldn’t be more distorted if they tried. A sinister element bubbling away.
Anonymous Truth. People you don’t know or have never met becoming the friend you were searching for.
How many families or friendships have been torn apart due to something as simple as not “liking” a photo? People you know in the real world now showing a different side. From keyboard warriors with the secret weapon of screenshot to being Ghosted.
I have experienced the first hand strangeness of seeing people basically become vicious the minute they settle down behind a keyboard. Almost questioning if you really knew the person at all? The egg shell step of not replying to a message they know you have “seen”. Not knowing what cyberspace nuclear reaction is going to be launched in your direction.
Then the ultimate act of electronic warfare….. Blocked. Cast aside even though the chances are you will see each other in “reality” more than cyberspace.
I’m just glad when I was in school this wasn’t around. The flip is I despair for my daughter as I know inevitably it will cause her pain at some point.
It’s a side now I try and stay away from. Reverting back to my original comments. If I want to converse with people I know, I can either see them in person or message them in private. The rest of that jungle can stay where it is. Maybe the odd post appears. The anonymous route much preferred.
And then I discovered the world of the little bluebird icon. A novelty that I could actually engage with celebs and others. Intriguing at 1st. Able to comment in the faint hope somebody may see your opinion and might actually agree.
The downside? As with anything the anonymity is always an attraction for the most hideous creatures social media has to offer. The common Troll. I used to be disgusted at such. I remember the horror of seeing another supposed human being mocking Gary Barlow on the death of his daughter. I was incensed and furious. How could anyone stoop so low? It took me a while to realise that my reaction was oxygen to these creatures. It gave them the one thing they crave – attention. As the old saying goes “there is no such thing as bad publicity” and sadly I know it now. They feed off negativity at every level, counting the amount of shares gleefully.
Disheartened in all honesty, it was time maybe to end this experiment altogether. Banter was being replaced with abuse and the appeal was now at its lowest. Then something changed.
I decided to make the boldest move I could and open up to this anonymous platform about being a bereaved Father. To pour my heart and soul into a platform I had encountered so much vitriol made as much sense as the football authorities banning handshakes while allowing man handling for 90 mins.
It changed my life and also my perception of the social network.
I was at my lowest ebb. Frightened of the reality I hid from and also the virtual reality I sought solace. Scarred by burying my only Son and watching his Mummy fight cancer. I had nothing to lose. Tell my story and maybe someone else doesn’t have to hide in a corner and cry in silence. Maybe someone else can see anonymous me and realise they are not alone. I just wanted to show kindness.
I waited on the Troll army to gather and mount an offensive. And to be honest it would have been a quick victory. I didn’t have the stomach to fight. The bombardment simply never arrived. Instead I found the opposite.
Reinforcements poured in from all walks of life. Offering friendship, comfort and kindness. This wasn’t the script I expected. Speaking to others who had faced similar or nothing like it at all and just wanted to show solidarity. This was overwhelming.
Those very celebs I spoke about now having the humility to either reply to me or share my fundraising pages as I ran the odd marathon for my boy.
This was the social media I craved. This was the social media I felt a belonging to.
The last few years in particular have actually grown cyber friendships into reality. Sharing a drink with like minded individuals. From supporting my charity work to the honour of being invited onto hugely successful podcasts. A surreal new world now being opened up.
The odd vermin will always slip the filter sadly. My own experience usually some form of pond life taking aim at Fernando Ricksen and Jinky Johnstone. 2 men that possessed more courage than most could ever dream of. I do say though it is a minority and they successfully unite all decent minded folk on condemnation.
I wrote this because I wanted to share the last thoughts on positivity. These past few days, I have witnessed the most incredible acts of kindness. From people reaching out saying life is tough to others suffering a loss. On each occasion there has been a warmth of love and empathy as these strangers all jump into the trenches and offer support. Support to someone they have likely never met or are never likely to meet.
Seeing well known faces with a platform putting it to good use and being rewarded with touching stories of thanks is heart warming beyond what I can type on here.
My own blog turned 2 today. I always said if it helps just one person it’s job done. Over 11k views is a drop in the ocean to some but I’m proud of that. And I have had some humbling messages to say it infact has helped someone else in ita darkest days.
Social media can be utterly toxic, only if you allow it to be. It’s only now I realise you can escape the negativity and block it out.
I have seen the side I believe in. We can all play a part in that. Tonight I was proud of what I seen. The power of positivity.
There is nothing more dangerous than the sound of silence.
Grief is one of the most traumatic weapons of war that can be deployed on the human mind in the conflict of life. It can derail even the most perfect family from the tracks they run.
An idealistic existence gone in the blink of an eye.
Child loss was the bombardment that pushed our locomotive over the precipice. The drop simply to far to continue as we were. The pain as a family can numb you in a way no anaesthetic or amount of Ice could ever achieve.
For the immediate aftermath all you can do is survey the wreckage of your life that is now lying in flames before your eyes. Survival mode kicks in and you take shelter in any safe haven you can find. This can come in the shape of family and friends. Sometimes the ones you least expect will have their door open, ready for the casualties of the war raging in your mind. Comfort and empathy cannot take away the piercing pain. It can however allow the battlefield aid that can pull you through the immediate danger.
Some you would have banked on being that beacon of hope will sadly extinguish the flame on sight. No lights on an empty runway you desperately wanted to land. It hurts. Even a decade later it hurts. More will switch off as time goes by, however you will be astonished by the new friendships fate ushers into your path. Sometimes the faces you can only place on a monitor are stronger than the ones you call family and friends.
After a while at the station of Limbo you can move on with your life. To stay any longer risks more pain as the darkness circles looking for more souls to entice.
Your vehicle may be beyond repair sadly, however you can start again. With a new normality in hand you learn how to craft a new engine and a new direction is underway. Is it as fast as before? That’s up to you, the driver. There is no right or wrong. There is no reverse, the past is left behind although constant reminders remain every time you pull into a new station of life. Many challenges will await. Sadness and Joy will be on almost every stop, depending on which way the signal box of life decides to swing that day.
There will be occasions of exhaustion. Scarred from the battles you have seen yet no physical Mark’s show. A fractured mind to some is as painful as any bruise or broken bones. It’s difficult carrying such scars in a world full of judgement and scorn. If you are lucky, a sympathetic ear will listen and offer love and reassurance of empathy and understanding. Sadly there are occasions when some will never understand the conflicts you have survived and continue to face every day.
It’s difficult when you reach a station where you are turned away. Even worse when ridiculed. As a bereaved parent you would never wish anyone to walk a mile in your shoes. A suffering you would never bestow on anybody. For me it makes the rejection a little easier. Without that walk through your very own battlefield being replayed every single day, there is a mutual understanding that can never be fully met.
Taboo is one of the worst places you can visit. Unwelcoming and cold, not a place any bereaved parent will ever feel safe. Words being captured at the thought stage and sentenced to life in silence without a judge, jury or executioner. For too long it’s been a place that has left its mark. Thankfully it’s quite a vast space. If enough of you are there together it can change. The more voices joining together as one can overpower any negativity deployed to silence you.
I’m writing this as one of those parents who have broken through this barrier with the help of others. We say the name of our children without fear. We take a sledgehammer and break down the walls of society preventing us from moving on with our healing process. Taboo is now crumbling and no longer a destination we have to encounter.
Hope is always the most powerful navigation tool you can possess. Even in the darkest moments, if you can find a glimmer, no matter how faint, it can pull you through the tunnel and out the other side.
Even if your onward journey for life stays on the track, the scars will always remain even if locked away for a rainy day in the back of your mind. They can escape on days you least expect and with it carry a tidal wave of emotion you cannot avoid. It can be over in minutes or over in hours or days. It’s a storm that no super computer can predict. Causing the brakes to be applied and a lockdown you can’t stop. My own experience has been to find somewhere the world can’t see me as my emotions battle within my heart. There is no right or wrong. You can face it alone or even cry for help. As long as you emerge from the barrage is all that matters.
Mental health is not something you can shut down with a switch. It’s a vital cog in the machine. It can be repaired but sadly the specialist help required is not always available. Either overstretched, a postcode lottery or relying on charity for a service we so badly need. For what it’s worth, some amazing charities give so much, yet even they have limits.
As a parent in the Highalnds it’s difficult. There is not always readily available face to face help, especially in the remote areas. At one of the darkest times you will ever face you are cast into darkness.
Do you lose friends? Sadly yes. The hidden scars as well as the battles going on behind closed doors are lost on some and they will fade away.
Can you fight back? Yes you can. You will be amazed at the new friendships you make along the way. It’s a club you join thats exclusive. You never wish anyone else to do so but when a new member arrives, a sense of companionship kicks in and togetherness shines.
We need to do more. I’m writing this full in the Knowledge that whilst some will show sympathy and empathy, there will always be the screenshot brigade who mock and sneer. I’m not afraid to put my head above the parapet to let others know they are not alone. As a society we have made huge strides. We can have the debate now about our children taken too soon. We can talk openly thanks to charities fighting our corner. Society has changed their course dramatically over the last 2 decades and hopefully we can alter it even more.
More specialised support is urgently required for families affected by child loss. Too many slip the net and this isn’t fair or just. Access is required to give every single person a fighting chance of keeping their new train on the track they deserve without fear of another derailment. No more postcode lotteries, no more families becoming just another statistic.
I promised Kyle I would never give up. I know so many other parents have done the same and that gives me the courage and hope to carry on even when I’m tired and broken inside.
We can ride this train together. Forever and a day. 💙🌈🌠
Since as far back as I can remember I have had aspirations and dreams. They have varied from the sublime to the utterly ridiculous. Each one carved with imagination and loaded onto a train departing the station of sleep and arriving at reality often labelled “pipe”
Childhood gave me some epic adventures. My 1st ambition was to become a Scientist in New York. A shared vision of my best friend as we had plans to take over the baton from Egon and Peter when they eventually retired. Even as I approach 40, that’s one memory I’m not quite ready to file away as lost just yet. That inner child in me is still waiting for that call to gather up my proton pack and save the world.
Growing up my Hope’s world change like the west highland weather. I slowly swapped the paranormal swell for heroes in a half shell, although not quite ready to give up on the city that never sleeps just yet. More on that would follow.
Suddenly a new discovery was threatening to blow the competition out of the water. The most simplistic object yet, a Football. The pinnacle would be 1992/93 as I ran around the swing park, jumpers for goal posts, with my Admiral Rangers FC shirt on my back. I had grown at least 6 imaginary feet as I would add my own commentary in the voice of Brian Moore as I scuffed the ball into the air as I became Ally McCoist for a moment. A moment where reality and fantasy collided and any cruelty the world was showing would be blocked by the force field of Hope surrounding me.
Over the years it was a recurring theme. All started off by the purchase of my 1st Rangers top from my Celtic supporting Father. Something that wouldn’t hit home until some 28 years later. Even as teenage years approached, nothing would beat the wheel of delight as you became whatever sporting alter ego you had chosen that day. Some new faces had pushed their way into the room in my head, Brian Laudrup, Paul Gascoigne just to name 2. Super Ally would forever be my number 1.
Alternate reality was my escape. A chance to forget any pain that was on my life. The next chapter was where pain eventually had to retreat. My teenage years had been fraught. Derailed at the beginning although fate pulled the train back on track before the damage became irreversible. Alcoholism had taken its toll on another statistic of a family. The final shots being fired as the empty bottle snarled as victory was in its grasp. Wrong.
The stars had other ideas. And my own idol was given a 2nd chance in life which he took with both hands. And it shaped not just my own life but many more to come.
Once again sleep and hope combined and another crazy idea came to be. At 17 years and 8 days, I enlisted into the Royal Air Force. Not quite the swashbuckling “Maverick” in my own cinematic head but still a massive leap for the kid from the sticks in the highlands. A village where the population was less than the barrack block I now called home. You cannot achieve anything in life unless you want it bad enough and you have to earn it. My will power was shot to pieces like a spitfire that had just taken our a weather balloon. 14 days and begging to return to the quiet life I once knew. A sympathetic voice of my Mother playing to my pain, however my mind was soon AWOL when stern rejection came from the man I had idolised.
I never did get to thank him because that sharp tongued phone call would shape my destiny. Allowing me to serve my country for 8 years at home and abroad. From the Falklands to Jordan, Germany to Cyprus too. The pinnacle being the award of an Air officer Commanding commendation in the New Years honours list of 2003. The phone call on Hogmanay from the South Atlantic to my parents will be forever one I’m proud of.
I gave up my beloved Air Force when my instinct dictated. I now had the dream of a wife and a new family to come. Along with the twist of fate I least expected. In my 1st year of marriage, our beautiful Son was born asleep. Kyle had come into our lives and changed it for the better. It was these next few years that I discovered the dream I never wanted had found me and landed on a permanent base.
The coming years brought tears of Joy and sadness. From losing Kyle, to the arrival of his little Sister Amelie. A loop of emotion not even a Typhoon could match for the impact and speed it hit. Supersonic would be VHS compared to the MP3 I stared down. Between my wife battling Cancer aged 26 and my daughter fighting Psoriasis my new job had been infused whether I liked it or not. I may not have hit the dizzy heights I had dreams of in the Royal Air Force. I was no “Jester” or “Viper” but I did become a little bit of “Ice Man” if only by description. I never got to sit in the cockpit and control that splendid aircraft, however my life had now borrowed at least a part of the programme. The robotic element at least.
I had discovered Auto Pilot as my Father had before me.
Crisis would push my mind to the extreme limits. Cracks were now turning to dust as reality began a bombardment that even Sir Arthur Harris would have found too much. However it was his same School of thought that would be the foundations to holding out in your very own Bastogne. All those years ago when I could not quit, firing up my inner boosters and allowing me to strike back and fight another day. Tears would be a casualty of the war in my head. Locked away, my very own POWs, not knowing when they would be allowed to run free once more.
Once Auto Pilot was engaged, it took over. Emotions stood down from duty as Robotic mind-set and rationale matched in sync, digging in for the tough decisions and partaking in many a Sortie in order to keep functioning. Auto Pilot has one flaw however. When each war comes to an end, it disengages, causing a crash. You don’t know when the virus will hit the software. It could be years after the battle ends. It could be a matter of minutes. The Dream where it was born has surrendered to the nightmare holding it hostage. The POWs making a run for it with no strategic plan. Simply running in all directions with no end in sight.
All you can do is find a fox hole inside your pain. Bunker down and ride out the storm that’s bombarding you. At the end of every storm, you will find that Rainbow. And like 5year old me who had fallen off his bike, my hero would insist I get back up and try again.
I found out that I could get back in the cockpit and experience life without the Auto Pilot switch that was going to be forever part of me. A little like Nanny Macphee in the respect that it would only be there when I needed it, not when I thought I had.
January 17th was the day I flicked the switch I never wanted to but knew so had to. The day that my hero had been stood down at last. 21 years longer than should have had as he defeated his demons and never lost to them again.
A twilight zone as I once again pulled on the old uniform and prepared to soldier on. Repeating battles of old, recreated to amend the circumstances from my Son to my Father. Tears this time making their own way to the cells as they have seen this movie before. Everyone knowing their role and falling into place. Our Mission? To simply get through every day. How long? Well as long as it takes. When Grief attacks, it’s an enemy without compassion. They will strike as and when they see fit. No textbook attack or pattern. They will simply strike and no army in the world can adequately prepare for it.
Tomorrow we say goodbye to our Dad. The only fear I have is when the guns eventually fall silent. That’s when my real battle begins.
Dreams are important. Allow Hope to make contact and anything is possible. You might not always get the 1st choice. I got to play for Rangers, take on Shredder and trap multiple ghosts in Brooklyn. Reality may not allow us everything but fantasy shaped massive part of my childhood that still allows me to smile and reminisce as I’m about to turn 37.
Share your Hope’s and fears. Don’t be afraid to say I love you. Go to sleep without a cross word and know that although you cant change what happened yesterday, you can make your imprint on the future of tomorrow.
I Would not have achieved half of my dreams without my Dad. He was more than my Dad. He was true to his word and never touched alcohol again for the remaining 21 years of his life. 3 Grandchildren turned to 11 with 2 Great Grandchildren and a 3rd he never got to meet.
Sleep easy. We will meet again and we will have that kick about one last time.
2020. A new decade has landed and the embers of the festive season are now fizzling out as the “January Blues” swirl into town. The twilight zone, where time simply disappears in between the 25th December and the 2nd of January and each day becomes a Sunday, is now fading away as we catapult back to reality.
We raise a glass to those we have lost, not just the last 12 months but also those from our heart at any given point in our very own Sands of Time. Up and down the country we see tributes ranging from precious photographs shared on social media to memorials.
Jan 2nd 1971, 66 souls went to a football match and never returned home. Every year they are remembered as are the 96 Angels of Hillsborough. We will always honour them.
Football as much as it can be vilified can also be powerful when it unites us. You see traditional “rivals” on the field offer hands of friendship and also a timely reminder of the importance of treating the game as such. With tolerance and respect regardless of results.
I’m very fortunate to have a “football family” who are also very caring and compassionate. Too many to mention, however you know who you are.
We pay tribute every single day to those we have lost by living the best life we can. For myself this journey began 10 years ago with my Son, Kyle, who was born asleep.
For many it’s a cold time of year in every sense. A months wage to last 6 years and the return to work. Last year ironically feeling exactly just that.
Before I go any further I want to say, please never feel alone, especially at this time of year. Talk to someone, anyone. My own DMs always open. I can testify first hand that bereaved parents often slip the net. As a bereaved Father, “you need To be strong as the Man” was used on more than one occasion. Maybe a reason why my pain remained bottled up for so long.
Some of us set targets and goals. Something to look forward to and achieve for the coming year. It can range from fitness, running that 1st mile to a marathon. A new diet or simply just a new you. However it’s also fair to remember that it’s perfectly fine to be the same old you. Not everyone needs to change and nobody should ever feel pressured to.
My own outlook has altered dramatically over the past 10 years. My main goal as it has been the last decade? To Climb out of bed every day with a thanks for being here. Simple but effective. When you lose a Child, part of you dies too. You are broken but crucially not beyond repair. Time can heal and although you will never be the same, you can learn to live once more.
Getting up every day, wanting to be here was conquering a mountain. Mentally maybe but still a victory. Each time I open my curtains, Ben Nevis, our highest peak in the British Isles proudly stares back at me. Almost an unspoken acknowledgment that I’m doing ok.
I’m looking forward to 2020 as the year those said mountains offer their solace and support. I want to tell you about the power of teamwork, friendship and walking side by side.
Last summer a last minute idea coupled with the perfect weather window presented an opportunity. To make the most of the breathtaking part of the world I’m lucky enough to call home and scale the mountain that stares back every day with a twist. A 1am start to chase sunrise.
As we ascended into the cool summer breeze, already a feeling that something beautiful was being crafted above. A couple of hours of trekking, laughing, cursing and appreciating the wonders finally drew silence as we stepped onto the summit. Not quite the moon landings but for us the Stars (For Harris) were standing down as the Sun welcomed us. For 30 golden minutes we were the 2 highest humans in the UK as we took in the wonders I was guilty of taking for granted right under my nose. It was just sheer Bliss.
Those stars gave me a feeling. A gut feeling and one to trust. No sooner had my feet landed at sea level had the laptop fired up. Emails sent out to other Children’s charities explaining the wonder I had just witnessed and asking them to consider taking on this majestic challenge as one. Uniting to raise awareness for Child loss and hopefully helping others.
Then reality hits. What have I done? A Co-Founder of our own charity barely 4 months old brazenly asking some massive names to join this crazy idea. Silence and doubt can be a brutal combination that spread seeds of negativity in a mind that’s already been prone to earthquakes.
Ping.
It started with one, then another. Replies chasing away any lingering negativity. Other like minded individuals looking to chat and explore the options lying ahead.
Several emails and phone calls became a conference call. That in turn became 2 and 3 and fate was delivering some new friendships. We had amassed 10 Children’s charities all with a common goal of working as one. We had agreed a date of Saturday June 13th for an Overnight climb of Ben Nevis and officially in Novenber 2019 #Bigstepsforsmallfeet came to be.
I’m a Father who just loves his kids like anyone else. What began as a pipe dream is now a reality. It’s not easy being on this road. You are often isolated. You lose many friends although you will gain some precious ones for life. You are part of an exclusive club that nobody wants to join, although once you are there you look out for new members you hope don’t pass through the door.
Hopefully we will show that no mountain is too tall for our children. We will walk together, talk together. Laugh together and cry together. As someone else beautifully said “Maybe I can’t stop the downpour but I’ll always join you for a walk in the rain”
If you want to join us, please see the link below. Also are the links to the 10 Charities involved and please take a look at the work they do. 14 babies die before, during or shortly after birth every day in the UK. That’s 14 too many. One day I hope this figure is Zero or as close to that as possible.
Life is the greatest game we will ever play. You cannot predict the result yet the outcome for all of us will inevitably end the same way.
One of the great experiences is knowing you are about to create a precious life. Your own bloodline and legacy. For myself it propelled my new family to cloud 9. A level of joy I had not reached in my young life and the beginning of phasing out carefree youth to fully fledged grown up. Reality is when you sit amongst the highest clouds, you are at risk from thunderstorms. Not everyone will be affected, however if you are struck by the lightening of fate, it changes everything. In a blink of an eye you go from drawing up you future in Stardust to plummeting to earth with no parachute.
It’s ok. As with something new and this type of grief will be no different I told myself. Someone will catch me as I fall.
Still waiting.
The freefall then goes into slow motion as the realisation hits home that there is no safety net waiting to catch me. I’m now grounded with a bang so painful that my heart is in tears. The galaxy of dreams that I once called home are now a distant memory, so far out of sight yet only moments old.
Stranded on an edge with a further drop, I was simply stuck. Afraid to look up for the fear of falling further into the abyss of my life. In the distance you can make out some signs of support. So close yet so far our of reach. You’re on a platform unexpected and certainly unprepared for. The way out is a million light years away. It’s conquering life’s Everest using stepping stones. Small steps as with each one you are trying not to fall back into the darkness that lurks at every turn.
When you have reached rock bottom they say the only way is up. When you have lost all hope, the depths are unlimited as fear shackles you from venturing forward. Society would watch from a distance. Sometimes a hand of friendship waiting however mostly out of reach. Once discharged from the initial situation, you become someone else’s problem. Quite simply life can swallow you up and the safety net you always look for is nowhere to be found. As you tentatively take steps forward, you are faced with the backlash of being sent back to the start. Phrases such as “you need to be the strong one” and “you’re young enough to try again” are shackled around your ankles and weighing down progress. Familiar faces that once met you with a smile no longer meet you at all. You can’t or don’t expect anyone else to understand your grief, however a hug is always better than an empty space. That part still hurts now.
You are inside a bubble of grief. Outside the world is carrying on as normal as if nothing never happened. Something did happen yet nobody can hear you no matter how hard you try it feels like your words are silent. You want everyone to stop and listen. Yet the bubble is also a barrier that many choose not to allow the world access to as it has done to you. Checkmate.
I wanted to talk to someone. The chains that society had placed were preventing me reaching out. Sometimes I would free myself and eagerly would knock the door for help. The answer never came. Waiting lists meant I would be turned away as sadness would now clamped firmly to my mind, embedded so deep, my personality was no longer within my control.
The road has been long. And for a decade I climbed one step at a time out of the abyss. I clung onto hope and it slowly gave me another chance. I will never reach the peak the old me had done. Fear is now a passenger in my life and will forever have the “what if?” banner waving in front of my face. As a bereaved parent you learn to adapt. You make new surroundings and whilst my cloud 9 will forever be a thing of the past, my new one is much better than the abyss I crawled out of.
I’m proud that in the last decade society has released some of the shackles. We are now given the opportunity to speak without being beaten back with a Taboo stick. Charities are fire fighting a mental health time bomb that has been ticking over for too long. For every bereaved parent that has been fortunate enough to get specialist help, hundreds have slipped through the net and find themselves at the very rock bottom I was once stood, with no one to guide them out or worse they take the option of letting go altogether. It’s my worst fear and one I have wrestled with for a decade not to let it enter my mind. Its heart-breaking for those families who do suffer the worst outcome. Ask any bereaved parent the question and frighteningly I can assure you the percentage will be high that have wondered how it would be to join their child. It’s the ones who take it one step further that my heart cries for.
We have come a long way in the last 30 years. We have smashed so many barriers. We can now have the discussion and our children are mentioned in parliament. Its testament to the dedication and spirit of the families who have suffered in silence. We now need to go one step further and as a society reach out and ensure that no person is left behind. Every life matters and in this game we play you only get one chance. The least we deserve is the opportunity to rebuild the one we have.
The world may have left some of us behind at one point , though I can assure you that bereaved parents do have a unique bond and look after each other as best as we can. As famously quoted,
“maybe I can’t stop the downpour but I’ll always join you for a walk in the rain”
Please give us a world that will listen. Please know that although we may be broken, we can be saved.
Feel the night sky closing in
Waves crashing against my soul
Falling into eternities stars
Begging for the life back that I stole
Hearing voices calling me
Whispering don’t ever let go
Blocking sight of all the words
As I wander through inner fields of snow
Close my eyes and count for me
Wake up from this nightmare I walk each day
My eyes hide from the pain I see
Sunlight won’t pass on her Ray’s
Finding salvation amongst the sands
Beams break through my broken mind
Pulling me back towards the Hope’s shore
Moonlight guiding new life I have to find
Two hearts connected from above
Infused by the power of a million stars
Cracks in my mind papered over for now
Love temporarily healing my battle scars
Water escapes as the sun goes down
When my world is fast asleep
A river of pain ebbing away
As I fight for my sanity to keep
Society’s shackles chained to my mind
Emotions under daylights lock and key
Forced to abide a contract of pain
Wandering a world searching for me
A single voice is lost in space
Crying out for help without a sound
Your not alone in this void of grief
Brothers are waiting to be found
When 2 voices come to meet
Together tearing down these walls
Courage breaking the words free
Uniting a voice to stand 10 foot tall
The shadow of stigma now cast free
Silence no longer dictates my tears
Feelings able to roam as they please
Hope rising for the first time in tears
A decade of love encapsulated in grief
Lost time reclaimed from life’s seas
Sharing your story for all to hear
Of the love between you and me
Tears are as strong as the bravest smile
Love so pure can breathe outside
Uncorking the bottle once about to pop
No longer ashamed with the need to hide
I will never stop until my sky goes to sleep
Speaking your name to the world we live
Fighting for the souls who need a voice
Dedicating my life to simply give
The night so many aligning stars formulated their plan and guided me home.
It’s been a road full of more twists and turns than a Formula one calendar. As a bereaved Father it’s a journey I wish I had never had yet once you are strapped in, you face the experience head on. A roller coaster of infinity that you can’t get off, no matter how much you yearn to do so.
10 years ago was when my life was given the Reboot I didn’t want but I know has shocked me back to humanity. My Son Kyle may have been born asleep, however he has given me a renewed sense of purpose that was lacking in my previous life.
It’s a lonely journey sometimes. Crucially my co-pilot has been by my side the entire time. There have been testing moments along the way that as a family we have had to battle, my wife’s cancer at 26 being our toughest after losing Kyle.
We have gained some very special friends along the way. Sadly lost many too. Part of me died 10 years ago. I’m replaced by another version of my life. The choice was simple. Almost like a twisted sub plot from Star Wars. Be consumed by darkness and bitterness or see the light and hope “the force is with me”.
As a family we decided to “strike back”. To show the world we will not take anything lying down. And this was the base of some friendships developing that would come full circle a decade on. It also has cost me many friendships and for that I have no regrets.
Our 1st effort was a night for the wonderful Sands charity. Over the coming years we followed up with support for others including Tommy’s and Clic Sargent. The joy in raising awareness and some pennies gave a rush that cannot be accurately described. The feeling of giving a high 5 to every little Star in the sky to let them know we got this.
If you have a Dream, no matter what happens, hold onto it and never lose hope.
My dreams began in the form of nightmares. 3 days after tucking my lad into his eternal bed to sleep, i was back at work. The world stops for no Man and that included a broken one. My fractured reality required me to earn a living in order to give Kyle a dignified send off from the life he never had. I couldn’t grieve and so began the snatched moments of hiding alone in toilets or a quiet corner to cry in a world that would not allow me as a Dad to show my pain.
2018 was a turning point. Inspiration is in my life every day when I wake up to my beautiful family. And so came the announcement from Westminster that Carolyn Harris MP had successfully created Martin’s law, in memory of her Son, tragically killed in a road accident years earlier. Families in England and Wales would no longer pay funeral fees for a child. I recalled the sickening feeling going on the bus back to work, as Number one by Tinchy Stryder ans Ndubz played in my ear on the radio. I felt the burning pain scarring me all over again.
We challenged the Scottish Government to follow suit. We petitioned after a long process of scrutiny. I met my local MSP as we campaigned for this to be adopted in Scotland. Initailly we were rejected and we did not lose hope. Kate Forbes continued to fight on my behalf a then came the news we has won. As it sunk in the weight lifted. Nobody else had to be on that bus like I was day. Nobody else has to worry about paying a funeral when they should be grieving. A spark was ignited that was now burning as bright as any star.
Dream? If i wasn’t on that bus I’d rather be on the road to tranquillity. An eescape from the cruel world that was holding me captive. One phone call asked the question. The follow ups answered and went to work.
Months of hard work. Long nights after work. Legal docs, emails. Branding, identity and many tears and smiles.
March 2019 Anam Cara Fasgadh offcially became a Scottish charity. With the aim of providing that free respite that fate never allowed me to go to. To strive to ensure others can be given space to grieve.
As I stared at the new found bank balance of Zero, i wonderd how in earth can we do this? The answer came on an emotional autumn evening in Edinburgh as Anam Cara Fasgadh launched in the Scottish Parliament in Edinburgh.
As soon as the Radio played Kyle’s song, the most beautiful Rainbow appeared in Glencoe as I knew we would be ok.
An evening containing every emotion possible. 10 years on from saying goodbye to Kyle, I was able to speak of him as I delivered a speech in The Scottish Parliament in front of his Mummy and Sister. A normal husband and Father making a dream cone true in the place that one yeat earlier had set the stars in alignment. One of the proudest moments of my life.
I spoke of many beautiful children gone too soon. To say the name of Daisy Nicol and her incredible legacy of bringing my home town together. Where a play park bears her name as children’s laughter will forever be her gift to our world. To speak of Harris Ross, an incredible little boy in front of his Mum and Dad who I’m proud to call my friends. A charity in his name, STAR for Harris raising vital awareness of childhood cancer. Again heroes from my hometown who inspire me. Seeing an old friend for 1st time in 17 years. To thank her and her family for their bravery in speaking of her nephew James Kelly, who sadly passed away aged 11 in 2003. Their courage and spirit giving me the hope that we can make the world a little kinder.
As i recalled about our bank account, i was able to address Amelie and thank my little girl. One day Amelie cane home and said sorry she had missed lunch and asked me not to be cross. I knelt down and said of course not, just worried why my daughter had gone hungry. She handed me £1.67. She had a collection amongst her pals and said somebody had to start off our charity. She is 9 years old.
Today, less than 6 months on we have 13 thousand pounds as we chase our goal. Some incredible generosity from some amazing people are propelling us to our target. I cannot ever thank them enough.
At this point I had to compose myself. On the day that heaven had gained a special angel in one of my heroes, Fernando Ricksen, I dedicate my speech to his bravery in the face of adversity. A man who defined the word courage more than any words can ever do justice. I know he would have been up there 24 hours later watching the team I adore with my Kyle from the stars.
Never in a million years did I imagine this path. Being part of an exclusive club you cannot leave is how I describe being a bereved parent. Now I am here, im devoted to making the world a kinder place in Kyle’s name.
To stand in our Parliament with several other Child Loss charities there to support us was humbling beyond belief. All of us now United with the goal of working together for bereaved families.
Not my words, but maybe too beautiful not to apply as It means a lot to me.
Maybe I can’t stop the Downpour, but I will always join you for a walk in the Rain.
I like to gather my thoughts. Unlocking the door to my inner feelings each night after autopilot is disengaging. The world passes by at 100mph and it’s easier to tackle it with a little part switched off.
I used to be scared of unlocking the door. I have written before about the wall of silence that would terrify my mind into submission. It took a long time to find a solution and even as I type it’s only an emotional tidal wave away from being swept away back to square 1.
I’m a bereaved Dad. It’s as plainly complicated as that. Its been 124 months now, or just over 10 years since this one way journey began. It’s a road of no turning back, no matter how hard you may wish or try.
I used to bottle up my emotion. Society had the pin code to the safe even though it only needed the key my mind possessed. These days the dam is gone, Barnes Wallace would have been proud of the explosion of words that broke it down. A simple pen connecting my thoughts to a blank page would hold the answer to regaining control of my life.
And back to the start. A fresh rewind from DVD back to VHS. I’m back in control of this voyage, even though the seas may get choppy, I have a crew of Friends always ready to face the waves by my side.
Today I returned home from work and disengaged autopilot. My little girl was just home from school and the heart warming words of “hey Dad” greeted me. I sat down with my coffee, and enjoying the simple joys I maybe once took for granted. Outside a familiar face sat waiting too. A small Robin who has made himself at home these past few weeks. The tiniest creature creating the biggest smile. My inner heart and mind on the same page at last telling me someone was also welcoming me home.
I’m going to pause for a moment and allow anyone to finsing up here if they wish. I’m a grown adult talking to a small bird. Understandable to some on the outside it’s maybe a case of grief causing madness.
If you are still reading on, then thank you for sticking with me.
I heard a beautiful song lyric today, and it goes like this…
“I was pulling empty pales out of the wishing well, Only holy water breaks the spell, I had to pinch myself, ’cause I knew all too well, The stairway to heaven always starts in hell”
My new existence is literally throwing imaginary coins into the wishing well of life. Sometimes in my moments of solace I wish for the impossible to the subtle. The old cliche “penny for your thoughts” would have more coins than the Royal mint if presented.
When you have stared Hell down, at least there can be only 1 way left. I decided immediately after losing Kyle that I had a choice. Consumed by anger and bitterness or face the storm and emerge with Love and Hope. Hope.
My little Robin gave me hope on that snowy Christmas day almost 10 years ago. Of course some will say coincidence and I’m perfectly fine with that. The same for every time I have gazed at the night sky whispering goodnight with a shooting star saluting back in true RAF style for Dad. Every cancer appointment for Mummy, a Rainbow appeared.
All of these glimmers of Hope combined. They gave me inner belief an strength I never knew existed. The courage to fight for parliament to abolish Child funeral fees and win. The belief to start our own Charity and flourish, now 6 months old. To be a better Father and Husband every day. Karma will always prevail.
I make no apology for discussing Child loss and the stigma still clinging to it. Its been a decade of being the voice my wee fella should have. To see more opening up and talking is encouraging. We are making progress every time we speak their name.
Hope is the most powerful gift the universe possesses. It’s within sight of all of us, however only when our eyes feel ready to see it.
The next time you wish upon a Star, it’s maybe a little more real than you ever did imagine.
Flip a coin. 2 sides of a metallic man made object containing the power of fate. Allowing a decision to hinge on the most simplistic form of conclusion yet some would argue controlled by the alignment of the stars.
Many days I would personally not know what road to take. My rationale departed my body so many times that only the heart had sole control of the ship. Some days there is only so much direction you can navigate solo.
We simply will never know the real consequence of each decision we make as we open those sliding doors. On those occasions I would flip the coin inside my mind and choose the door my instinct would guide me towards. In reality we are making these choices every minute of every day.
Some days I like to sit alone. My thoughts being the only company permitted in my solitude as I embark a journey of reflection. A train that travels in reverse with each station being a memory to analyse. There are not enough sands of time to go surf back on the wave of every decision, but enough stolen moments you can pore over the ones your conscience has banked as pivotal.
I first caught the train when Kyle had passed. At 1st I used it as a weapon to beat myself with. Convincing my fractured mind that if I had the power of eternity I could and more importantly would have changed everything. The ripple effect of this would spread and for a while the waters became toxic. My mind now drowning in a sea of guilty decisions ranging from saving my Son to stopping my wife’s cancer. Mental torture had found a way of knocking my confidence.
I would get off the train a little more broken than when I stepped on. Convincing myself It would be the last trip of self questioning. Sadly this became an addiction and every time the whistle blew in my mind, I would run to the station of silence to board again. Each time I was a solo passenger yet aware that others were boarding identical journeys.
As the years would pass, I would stop at new stations. Pivotal moments on the what if? Journey. From career choices to moments of wishing I could have one more cherished second with ones we love.
10 years of voyages slowly evolving to other methods of transport. The sandman providing a carriage to happier times. A flexible ticket to my dreams allowing stolen moments of redemption. Each occasion offering a different setting and different sliding doors to waltz through. Sometimes just sometimes reality and fantasy could collide ensuring when I woke up there was a tiny feeling that something could have been real. The more I departed for my dreams meant the less I chased my conscience. The train trips dwindled.
Watching the glass screen of Mr Logie-Baird I listened to someone quote a certain Mr Einstein. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results”.
Talk about flipping a coin? The mother of all pennies had dropped and ignited my fire within. I couldn’t move on whilst stepping on the same journey day in day out. My insanity was staring me in the face and I could not see the wood for the trees.
2019 has been the year I walked away from the train station. My eyes now viewing life in a different manner. One of my last trips was to seek answers on Kyle. One of the toughest journey’s of my life but one that taught me that whatever decision I had made, another one awaits. I don’t blame myself any longer.
I’m now defined by every day. Only with burning pain have I truly realised what it’s like to live. Moments I would have taken for granted in another life are now cherished and every last drop of joy squeezed into my memory bank.
I have witnessed some incredible acts of humanity over the years. From strangers offering friendship to seeing other humans achieve the impossible.
You only have to have seen a young man walk from Glasgow to London. A young man with more set backs than is remotely fair in this life yet he is inspiring others. Seeing a baby defying the odds and his Father updating the world on his fight. Tear jerking and moving in every way. Forgive me but these acts for me are a million times more powerful than the negativity I refuse to engage with elsewhere.
I’m no longer looking over my shoulder. Acceptance has been key. Hope is reignited and the onus is now firmly focused on what can we do? Rather than what if?
We have a charity. We have a chance to give Kyle and many others a legacy that will help other families like our own. My very own Phoenix rising from the ashes of a testing road of flames my feet were simply tired of walking any longer.
It’s not about what we could have done better, it’s all about what we can do going forward to make things right. We only get one chance of this life. I intend to make the very most of every minute oxygen fills my lungs.
Take those chances. Dance under moonlight, sail those rivers of dreams, chase those Rainbows, make a wish under starlight and if you ever reach the crossroads of uncertainty then reach into your pocket and flip that coin.
It could Just be the beginning of your very own forever.
Competition. Human nature at its finest. From the Roman amphitheatres to the Olympic games of Greece. Striving for perfection and the right to be number 1.
The love of sport is such a global phenomenon it unites mankind even if we do not know it. I’m a mere infant at 36 compared to some with sporting memories but I have a back catalogue I cherish. From Sally Gunnell in tears on the Barcelona podium after winning Gold to Lennox Lewis dominating the Great Evander Holyfield as I watched as a child. Seeing Scotland win the final ever 5 nations with Gregor Townsend carving open a French defence that Wellington would be proud of to the heartache of France 98 when we pushed the Samba superstars to the limit. And on that final note we come to Football.
The Beautiful game or not so in recent weeks.
22 humans chasing a ball. Simplicity? No. An art form. From the mighty armchair and maybe armed with a keyboard we sometimes vent explosion in the form of emotion at events on the small glass screen in front of us.
Recent weeks in good old Caledonia we have been treated to an ugly side. Where the architects of our national treasure are unable to craft their magic without the fear of a missile being launched from the very people that are meant to appreciate their art. Spectators now crossing the line of using their eyes and ears to actively engaging with the sportsmen and women we are meant to respect.
I’m not going to go into who is to blame for every incident. We would reach the end of time and still never be in agreement. This is where another human trait emerges with vigour. Tribalism.
We naturally withdraw into camps and defend our own, even if its glaringly obvious to the rest of the world the fault lies at our own door. I happen to wear blue tinted spectacles. For that I make no apology as it’s in my blood. I have many friends with green and even maroon tinted glasses. It is what it is.
Last words on the ugly side. If our masters who walk the corridors of both sporting and political power are serious about eradicating such activity then they can. Call out each and every example and treat equally. If you are in a position of authority then I’m sorry but you cannot wear the tinted specs that the rest of us get away with. And sadly that seems to be a major reason in why the minority can ruin the fun for the majority.
I’m reclaiming the beautiful game for my own peace of mind.
I fell in love with our national game as a young child. Following in the footsteps of my Grandfather and a love for Glasgow Rangers. I grew up idolising the heroes of Ibrox park. From the euphoria of screaming at the television as Gary McSwegan hauled us back to a draw with French giants Marseille to seeing our all time Great Super Ally McCoist defy the odds with an overhead kick to win the League cup final after a horrific leg break.
Then came “the moment”.
100 mile drive to Glasgow after my Father who supports the other team bought me my 1st strip and also handed me a shiny foil paper card. Forget Wonka bars and tickets of gold or the new national lottery. I was going to see the Famous Glasgow Rangers.
Fort William had a small but loyal supporters club. It was run by a gentleman called Colin Pinkett. A selfless man who would look after myself and my pals and allow us to be the next generation of young bears. We travelled south on our very own chariot in the disguise of a mini bus.
We parked up with our valet paid handsomely the sum of 1 of the queens finest Pounds to “look after our motor”. I would learn this was always a wise move to accept and pay the rate being asked.
Walking along the magnificent red bricks would come into view. Towering into the heavens was our very own Coliseum. Steeped in history I cannot do justice in a short written piece. Along edminston drive I would meet my very 1st Rangers Icon. And in 2019 only a few weeks after his death, I wish I had known then as a 12 year old I was shaking the hand of a true legend in Mr Eric Caldow. A gentleman who signed my match programme and wished me a good day.
Walking up the steps of the Broomloan stand and nothing prepares you for the magical sight that awaits. It’s a feeling I thought would never be beaten. Oh how I was wrong. As a father and taking the hand of my little girl and seeing the sheer delight in her eyes retracing the same steps was a million times more powerful for me.
I’m a Father of 2. And how I dream of a day where I’m watching Glasgow rangers with both my children by my side. My Son and Daughter both born just a stone throw away in the old Southern general hospital. As I type this, my lad Kyle would have been 10 years old on May the 6th. Not a day passed where I don’t miss my wee man.
Our beautiful game? When Rangers were there for me. When they became much more than a club. Having a spare season ticket for my daughter to take a pal is in Kyle’s name. A touch of class so I can say forever that my 2 kids had a seat side by side at our Ibrox home. You never hear the good in our media these days about such human kindness. To me it will live with me forever. That’s beautiful.
Many who follow me will know our journey. It is what it is. From losing Kyle to his Mummy’s cancer. We try to fight back and help others.
Through setting up my own charity in Kyle’s name I have been unable to visit our home as much as liked. For me the right thing to do was to allow other families to share the love we have for our club by giving away our season tickets. I’m humbled to say we have made many new friends and knowing some little bears saw our team for the 1st time due to my kids is a legacy I’m proud of. That’s the beautiful game.
When Amelie was struck head to toe in Psoriasis it was another blow. Seeing a little girl in pain and also being bullied was beyond hard to take. As her Dad I will do anything for her. Rangers stepped up again. One of the proudest moments of my life was seeing Amelie leading out the famous Glasgow Rangers at Ibrox Stadium. To grace the hallowed turf and partake in a minutes silence on remembrance weekend brought a tear to this RAF Veterans eye.
I watched my little girl stride into school the following Monday now 10 foot tall recalling her big moment to all her pals. I saw my little girl start to tip toe out of the shell she had been imprisoned in for the previous months. That to me is more than a club. That’s the beautiful game.
I never realised at the time that witnessing such greats from Gascoigne and Laudrup to De Boer and Van Bronckhorst that such pain would come. 2012 saw acts of greed and shame I never thought I would ever witness. Mr Struths famous quote would never be more apt than it is now.
“Our very success, gained you will agree by skill, will draw more people than ever to see it. And that will benefit many more clubs than Rangers. Let the others come after us. We welcome the chase. It is healthy for us. We will never hide from it. Never fear, inevitably we shall have our years of failure, and when they arrive, we must reveal tolerance and sanity”.
“No matter the days of anxiety that come our way, we shall emerge stronger because of the trials to be overcome. That has been the philosophy of the Rangers since the days of the gallant pioneers.”
We rallied led by the great Sandy jardine. We took our medicine and rightly or wrongly fought back. We filled our Ibrox home from division 3 and followed our team far and wide. Sharing the blue pound and helping smaller clubs with payday they could never have dreamt of.
We are not quite out of the woods yet. But looking at the world class name of Steven Gerrard leading our team still gives me butterflies even at the age of 36. No longer the likes of Sandaza and Cribari but Defoe and Arfield should show how far we have come. Mr Struth in all his wisdom could not have chosen his words better.
I have seen supporters rally round raising money for sick children no matter what team they support. That’s our beautiful game.
We now have a player wearing the Rangers badge that gave such joy and beautiful moments to the late and inspirational little Bradley Lowery.
That’s our beautiful game.
I was at Ibrox to see 50k cheer and raise money for the brave Fernando Ricksen as he battles Motor Neurones. Love from many clubs for our former player.
That’s the beautiful game
To say we lived in an era that produced the likes of Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Ronaldo, Zidane, Figo just to name a few. Magician’s in their own right.
That’s the beautiful game.
Seeing supporters brave the cold and sleep out in the name of Charity. That’s the beautiful game.
My very first fundraiser in Kyle’s memory we were donated gifts from clubs such as Celtic, Rangers, as well as Inverness. They could see beyond football colours.
That’s the beautiful game.
Using social media as a platform for good and making friends through a shared love of your team.
We all have our own stories to tell. Our own tales of those first steps into a stadium or meeting an icon. To wearing our 1st top to tears of Euphoric highs and heart breaking lows. Emotions of recalling memories with loved ones who are now watching our team from the best seats in the universe to the dream of taking new generations to a game for the 1st time and passing the baton over. Wishing for a time machine to share those moments again we maybe took for granted. Hoping to be lifted over that turnstile just one more time.
I know I’m going to appreciate the moment even more now as my little girl grows up.
Ladies and gentlemen that is our beautiful game.
It’s the right time for me to say good night to my blog. I have given all my words and bared my soul. I hope its helped even just 1 person as I now look to the future and making our Charity a success for my wee lad.
Thank you for all the kindness. especially the Rangers Family.
No words spoken yet a nuclear device of thoughts are detonating within the walls of the mind.
Suicide
The biggest killer of Males under 45 in the UK. 84 take their lives every week. That’s 84 too many. 84 Sons, Fathers, Brothers, Husbands, Uncles.
I’m going to write on this because I hope if anyone is trapped within a mind of silence, they can escape even for 5 minutes to let their voice out.
When I lost Kyle in 2009, my world literally came to an end. To carry a white coffin at 26 wasn’t the script my marriage 7 months earlier should have been writing. It was the start of my own mental health being in the firing line of life. This barrage left it scarred and on life support.
I wanted to scream and cry. No words would form nor water would flow. Society had a padlock firmly around my mind that forbid any feelings as a Male from departing my broken soul.
Following the programme of what was expected of me I didn’t even cry at my own Sons funeral. Something 10 years on I deeply regret.
I was tasked to be strong. I took care of my wife and swatted off the world with my Cape to shield her. Unbeknown to me that by doing so I was leaving my own fragility in the firing range for more mortars of grief to land all around me with no way of deflecting them. My persona as some sort of Super-Dad did more harm than good. The Cape may have shielded those I loved however it also blocked them from seeing the hurt that was bottling within me more as each sun went to sleep.
Occasionally when the stars were looking the other way, a cork would silently slip off, allowing some excess pain to quietly run free. Not enough to burst the dam but sufficient to allow some sort of functionality.
As the years progressed, my cellar of tears remained locked away in a vintage collection. Slowly I would open a bottle on occasions they were required. Like Christmas, Birthdays and the 1st day of School. Not quite free flowing but the pressure was easing a little more than the previous years.
And so came the day another asteroid hit. This time it was Cancer. The impact that hit so hard I was blind. If there was a way out at that moment I could not see how. Yet I placed hope and faith our Son would see us ok. My wife was the inspiration and key to emerging through the storm.
Frantically almost immediately the Cape was back on and my soul panic buying as many bottles as possible to store the impending sadness.
This was the lowest point of my life. After reaching what I thought was rock bottom and climbing out only to be smashed down to earth’s core with only a ladder of molten misery to climb free.
This was the point I begged for a break. My back was in pieces surrounded by the billion bits of straw that suffocated me. My inner mind factory was now functioning erratically and was unstable. Each moment alone when the world fell silent, glass would split one by one as grief flowed. It would barely be out of my body when it was being immediately recaptured as my Cape herded it back into bottles. I couldn’t go on much longer intact.
This is the time of my life I wanted the lord to take me in exchange for letting my 2 girls live in peace. I never acted upon anything but how I wanted this pain to end. I’m ashamed to type that even now knowing my 2 girls needed me. I needed to talk as my dam was now at a level of caving in. I found writing and most importantly I let my guard down so those I love could see the real me. It was almost like admitting I was a fraud. The person I laid claim to be all these years didn’t exists. It was like Goliath throwing off his costume only for a tiny mouse to stand in his place.
Fast forward to 2019 and a decade since my life changed. And I’m still here. I even have a new Cape. This time its translucent. I can still be the hero to my 2 girls but also let them see when I’m hurting. To allow the world to see a Father can grieve. I allow my tears a free pass now. They travel via my blog and often carry the words for me to share.
I’m lucky that I still have this world and a chance to leave my foot print. My charity Anam Cara Fasgadh is a decade in the making and hopefully our potential caravan will make life a little gentler for other families. We may have walked the same path but on the journey I can honestly say that no 2 shoe sizes are ever the same. Each story unique.
Let’s talk about silence. Society has moved on and more Fathers and males in general are finding the acceptance allowing us to share our feelings. To lose the disguise chained to our persona for so long and let our true colours shine out.
I’m sharing all of this because it’s real. And that some still suffer in silence afraid to let anyone in.
For anyone out there who has been on or walks this path please know one thing. You are never alone. I may not be able to stop the downpour but I will walk by your side in the rain.
I would like to introduce you formally to our new Charity, Anam Cara Fasgadh – SC049149.
It still feels surreal typing that!
This is a bit different from my other blogs. I want to take the time to explain our exciting new adventure and what we hope to achieve.
10 years ago in May my only Son Kyle, was Still-Born. It was the defining moment of my own life and laid the foundations for my future. At the time I was 26, 7 months married and staring into the abyss. As a father and husband I lost out on time to grieve and care for my wife as I had to go back to work 3 days after laying Kyle to rest.
Last summer my local MSP, Kate Forbes, took my case to the Scottish government as I pleaded for them to adopt the new legislation brought in by the campaign of Carolyn Harris in Westminster, to abolish Child funeral fees. After weeks of petitioning we got the result we prayed for. And only recently Kate disclosed to me how Kyle played his part in changing legislation.
Myself and 3 friends discussed last summer how we shared a vision. To help others who are in the same situation we found ourselves in.
Andrew & Susan Simpson, and jenni Morris. 3 people I’m proud to call my friends. All live each day to honour their Angel’s, Eilidh-Beth, Alex , Theo and Jay. We all met through our children.
Buoyed by the success of parliament we decided we wanted to act. Our vision? To give a space and haven to anyone who has lost a Child as we had. To have an escape at no financial cost whether it be the immediate aftermath of a loss or 20 years later. We hoped to simply give refuge for the bereaved soul. And so our concept of Anam Cara Fasgadh was born. A mix and match of Scottish and Irish Gaelic describing the above. We are a mix and match bunch. None of us perfect yet we simply strive to give our all to help others.
We spent the next 10 months formulating a plan. To get a team of trustees, the incredible Niki, Claire and Irene on board as well as forming new relationships with people we are blessed to call our Patrons. First up was Gavin Wright, a Scottish Actor I had been fortunate to converse with over our shared love of Glasgow Rangers. An absolute gentleman who offered me words of kindness in my own hour of need. A man I’m now proud to call a friend and Patron.
We then have 2 fantastic MPs in Will Quince and Carolyn Harris who are Conservative and Labour respectively. Both Will and Carolyn have walked in our shoes as bereaved parents. As well as being both instrumental in the National Bereavement Care Pathway legislation going through parliament and of course Martin’s Law for Child funeral fees. We are thrilled to welcome both on board.
Last year I was fortunate to.have shared my love of running with an author writing her own book. Little did I know that Kyle would ve included in a best seller along with a link to this blog. Bella Mackie has been an inspiration to me personally and I urge anyone to read her book, Jog On. Its something a lot of us can relate to when finding a coping mechanism when life hits you. Bella said yes also to be our Patron.
Last and Certainly not Least we have Kate Forbes MSP who is my local MSP. Kate has been a massive support to me over the last 12 months and I can think of no better human being to join our team and welcome our Scottish Finance Minister.
We also have support from several other cross party parliamentarians. Proving that our cause is much bigger than party politics. Child loss doesn’t discriminate, it could happen to any one of us regardless of who we may be.
Finally on 21st of March 2019 Anam Cara Fasgadh received official charity status and registered as SC049149. 10 months of smiles, tears, emails, conference calls, late nights all paying off.
So what next?
Well now the hard part begins. We should be fully functional in coming days to accept donations and apply for funding. Our goal is to secure a caravan on the beautiful Argyll location of Tralee Bay. I would urge anyone to have a look online and see for yourself the stunning area. Linked below I’d a VLOG by Mikey McManus, a superbly talented Cameraman and Drone pilot who has given his time to help promote our cause. This shows where we hope to lay the foundations of our charity.
Our Twitter handle is @anamcaracasgadh and Facebook is same. Any shares or likes of our pages are massively appreciated.
To those who have messaged support we cannot thank you enough. If anyone would like to support us in any way at all please get in touch. From running a 5k to simply raising awareness, we would literally welcome anything with open arms.
I promise you that we will give this our absolute heart and soul.
I never envisaged at 36 I would be married with a child above and one on earth and a Co-Founder of my own Charity. I can’t change the past but we can try and make the future a little gentler for someone else.
I’m 5 years old. It’s 1988 and my 1st real memories are being unlocked from the little jar stored in my mind. This was the 1st time I can remember the pain of disappointment coupled with unrivalled excitement. One evening the Sandman chapped my door to tell me that my taxi was ready. And just like that I was a Ghostbuster. Amongst my heroes and doing all I had ever wanted in my short life. And then came the crushing blow. As my carriage returned me to reality I awoke as plain old me. Utterly devastated that I wasn’t the hero that I had literally just dreamed of.
At 5 years old I had my 1st lesson handed out from life that you can’t always have what you want. A lecture 30 years on that I have never forgotten, delivered from the 1st school of hard knocks visited.
My world became split in 2 over the next 3 decades. A reality I craved to leave behind and a fantasy I was desperate to stay forever and a day.
I grew up yearning to be anything from a famous footballer to a Ninja turtle or astronaut. Anything to escape to the make believe I found refuge. And once again the sound of an alarm clock usually signalled another crushing defeat for my army of hope from the General of fate. Sometimes it was easier to give up on my dreams.
The coming years from my late teens onwards defined me as a person to the current day. I found that if you’re willing to fight and give everything then you can achieve the impossible.
At 17 years old I enlisted in Her Majestys Armed Forces and the Royal Air Force flew into my life. A small kid from the West Highalnds. From a village of maybe a hundred or so to a barrack block contains the same number in London. The odds were stacked against me. Homesickness targeted me with pinpoint accuracy and came within a whisker of success. Resilience burned and I had to dig in. Eventually the kid who left Scotland passed out at his parade now a young man. Wearing the royal blue uniform was one of my greatest honours. I Had to pinch myself. This was real. The first time in my life I was able to grasp happiness that wasn’t taken from me with every sunrise.
Jumping forward to 2009. I was newly married to the woman of my dreams. Again reality had beaten fantasy. My 1st child was due. I Had it all to look forward to. And then my world ended with a crushing blow.
Kyle was born asleep in May 2009. Beyond perfect I’m every single way. Beautiful and my own. Fantasy and reality had collided in the most painful way and derailed all the strides of the last 9 years. I couldn’t grasp that in one hand I had my wish of being a father to a perfect wee boy. On the other hand I was saying goodnight forever. The system had crashed and with it my mind lost all power. The standby generator woild kick in. Auto pilot engaged that would remain for years to come. I miss you.
When 2010 gave me a daughter it was almost a 2nd chance. I couldn’t come off auto pilot. Scared that the nightmares that had replaced every dream in my sky were only a blink away. Instead of enjoying the precious gift of life I despaired that fate was waiting to snatch away my light as it had done 10 months earlier. I would have given anything for my sleep to be returned to me safe and well from the void that stole it. My little girl started my road to recovery.
Cancer.
Yup. That word. Even now it makes me nauseous.
Rachel beat you. You might have broken me and my fragile heart. You did not beat her. As a family we fought back.
If you allow the darkness to consume you then eventually it will suffocate anything good you have left.
We broke free. We raise awareness. Ran marathons. Hosted events and we never gave up. By now I dread the moonlit sky. I would rather be awake capturing the milky way by lens than by 40 winks. I Had lost control of the ability to rest. Each night a new monster would arrive at my door with my old friend the Sandman and terrify me. I was now scared to answer the door of my mind after sunset.
Slowly I began to wake up and take back control. As Rachel’s cancer was cast away and Amelies skin was clear I was able to relax. I was able to close my eyes and instead of waking up disappointed in the morning I now rejoiced simply for being back in fantasy land once more. Even if reality was waiting with that cold cup of coffee.
And then it happened. My fantasy and reality crossed one more time.
I wrote a book for Amelie. I had found an outlet over the last 2 year’s. Blogging and scribbling was my own way of coping when I felt suffocated by the world. When the words arrive I simply scribble and let them speak. They make sense to me if all else fails.
Most mornings it would be a case of the sheer disappointment that something remained locked in the filing cabinet under pipe dream. One day everything changed. Fate had dealt me a hand of a lifetime. The filing cabinet was wide open and a file was missing.
I woke up on an icy February morning of 2019 and the file was still gone. In its place I had something special. My dream of being a published author was lying in front of me. I Had signed my 1st publishing contract after 2 years of rejection.
After 35 years of broken dreams it finally happened. It came true. My rainbow was shining after the mother of all storms.
I still have to work hard. I know fate played a part but so did dogged determination.
If you are going to sleep at night and harbour your own special hopes then grab them tight. It’s not an easy journey. It could be painful lined with a tinge of joy. Never give up hope.
I’m an 80s kid. Born in 83 and brought up to an era of magic as a child. Ghostbusters and Teenage mutant ninja turtles were my early obsessions. When the Sandman came calling I would usually be transported to lower Manhattan either chasing spectres or Spinning on a half shell with some Kung Fu moves to make Bruce Lee nod with approval. Innocence I would probably give anything just to go back and visit for one day.
Dreams. They are another world. And for those precious moments a salvation that even as an adult hold the gift of Hope.
The 80s also gave us Movie classics. From the Goonies to Back to the Future. A plethora of silver screen right before our Impressionable eyes. One of my favourite franchises I still watch now as an adult with the same love as I did many moons ago. As a soon to be 36 year old Father of 2, it has more meaning to my life than I could have ever imagined all those years ago staring In wonder. I’m talking about the life of a fictional character named Rocky Balboa.
Who loves an underdog? It’s been a British love affair for generations. From Rourke’s drift and Zulu to the Crazy gang of Wimbledon defeating the mighty Liverpool to plunder the silver on offer disguised as the FA cup. The list goes on. Who failed to smile when Del Boy finally made his coin? Or when Eddie the Eagle thundered down the slopes? Maybe our finest hour when “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few”. I spent 8 years in the Royal Air Force and that last one still brings a lump to my throat with pride.
Now let’s talk about Rocky.
Before we proceed I want to add that the 1st Rocky movie was in 1976. The one I’m going to focus on is number 4 made in 1985.
The art of pugilism. Many great warriors have graced the ring over the years. Some I grew up with such as Mike Tyson, Lennox Lewis and Evander Holyfield. Then before my time such as Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier and Rocky Marciano to name a few. And on the last one leads to why this movie strikes a chord.
I’m a bereaved father. I lost my Son, Kyle in 2009. Coming up to 10 years. And everyday for me has been a boxing match. Each day my mind has come up against it’s opposite numbers throwing punches as hard as any of the men I have mentioned earlier.
Rocky 4 sees our underdog head to what is now the former Soviet union. To fight against the giant of a man called Ivan Drago. To me Drago portrays life as I know it. Tough and unflinching. No emotion as he despatches anyone in his path. When Rocky loses his closest friend and mentor to this machine I could only relate what it felt losing my only boy. Cold and unforgiving as the Siberian winter. No rewind or 2nd chance.
The path is crystal clear. You can curl up, which I wanted to do many a time, or you can fight back. When Rocky agrees to go to Moscow to lose the inevitable battle I could feel it. The pain of what has come before you and also the fear of what lies ahead. My dreams that were so cherished as a child were now a conflict zone not even the United Nations Peace Keepers would wish to patrol. Reality was blow after blow raining down and waiting for the knockout to come. One thing I did have in common with the champ was I don’t give in easily.
And so I started my fight back by training to run a marathon. Just as Rocky ploughed through the frozen plains of Mother Russia I used the same music as my own inspiration. My legs ached and burned as much in my own mind as the lung bursting moves I watched on the TV. It also gave me hope.
When Drago beats Rocky to a pulp as expected the easy option would be lie down. When life hammered my family, ashamedly I had moments on the canvas I wanted to stay down. Some moments I wanted the bell to sound forever. No towel was there as I looked to my corner for anything. And I found my wife by my side. She would not allow me to give up. Nor would our daughter born a year later.
Every time I would pound the streets focusing on my end goal I knew I couldn’t give up. When set backs came I had to strike back. I climbed back off the canvas and made a vow. Promising that Kyle would have a legacy. That I would speak his name. And for 10 long rounds I have done just that. We decided to strike back. As the Iron Curtain was torn down by Uncle Sam in 1985 there was not a chance of giving up. 6 marathons later being the body blow I needed. As our Underdog won in true David v goliath style, someone in Scotland even if just for a moment felt the same.
As with all victories they come at a cost. My mental health is fractured. It’s not the same place it once was. The blows of Still-birth and my wife’s Cancer put me on the canvas many times. I may have got back up but part of me died too.
I cry. Yeah you heard me right. I’m a 35 soon to be 36 year old man. And I cry. Sometimes when the world has been tough and I reflect on my own journey from Philadelphia to Moscow. Then other times I cry with joy. To see my daughter grow into the beautiful young lady she has become. To see my wife beat cancer. And each time crossing that marathon finish line this underdog has given his blood, sweat and tears to honour his wee lad.
The world has moved on from the 1980s. It’s ok not to be ok. We don’t have to hide and pretend it’s not happening. Mental health isn’t a game. It’s real. If you are lucky enough to get through life without any trauma then I genuinely salute you and wish you well. For those of us blessed to survive the hurdles, you command my utmost respect.
It’s ok to talk. For those of us with Angels too good for this world, never be afraid to speak their name. As a parent we have an eternal right to cherish our memories no matter how small.
I have had days where I’m top of the world and feeling like the same champ Rocky did. The flipside is the days I wanted it all to end. You don’t need a statue at the top of the steps to know you have conquered Everest.
Im going to finish up with a quote by the man many call the greatest. If ever I needed a little inspiration for the last 10 years of battle then maybe this shines most.
I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.’
My 10 year challenge. To me it’s more than sharing a photo on social media. May 2019 will be a full decade since my life changed forever. 10 years that feel like a lifetime ago. When I became a Daddy for the 1st time.
For those who follow my blog, you will know the last 10 years have been a whirlwind. Lows of losing my only Son, Kyle and Rachel’s cancer to the highs of becoming a father to a beautiful daughter.
I’m going to instead write about the positive things over the last decade. About learning to smile again and how I hope I have changed for the better.
Life is precious. It’s honestly as simple as that. Live every day because you don’t know what’s around the corner. So here is my top 10.
1. Becoming a Father.
I cannot put into words the feeling of being Dad. To my Boy who I have devoted 10 years of ensuring his memory Lives on by helping others. For Amelie, waking up every day knowing my little girl loves me is the pinnacle. I don’t think I will ever get a feeling on this earth that beats the bond between parent and child.
2. Rachel beat cancer
Cancer is a bastard. Sorry for the language. Positives only and to see my wife discharged from NHS care in 2018 has been a dream come true. Dignity, passion and courage. All in abundance. I’m proud beyond belief not only of Rachel’s determination but how she now speaks of her experience to help other women. You are my hero.
This photo was a hill above fort William. Not the biggest but for someone who had her last cancer treatment only weeks earlier….. This was Everest.
3 Sore Feet!
6 Marathons, 3 Half Marathons and 1 Relay race. Between Edinburgh, Glasgow, Loch Ness and Fort William. Over 8 thousand pounds raised as well as vital awareness all in Kyle’s Name. My kids inspired me to give my absolute all and to look back I’m proud of it all. It wasn’t easy and my body has taken a battering but I would gladly do it all again. To hear Kyle’s name from the crowds in Edinburgh and Inverness will live with me forever as well as the rainbows that carried me home.
And meeting a bloody good friend. Iain you know how much you mean to my family pal.
4 My love of Rangers Football club
As most know I am football daft. Rangers FC has been my love for over 30 years. This club has given me so many emotions but I need to highlight a few.
Seeing Amelie lead out the team on remembrance weekend will stay with me forever. As an ex RAF serviceman seeing her at the minute silence was humbling. One of my proudest moments of my life.
A season ticket holder has also been a dream. A spare for Amelies friends became much more when Rangers put it in Kyle’s name. Allowing my 2 kids to have seats together at Ibrox. An absolute touch of class.
Finally the friends. This club has given me some amazing new people in my life. I’m lucky and blessed.
5. Be kind to others
I know the events of the last 10 years have made me a better Husband, father and human being. At my lowest ebb when Rachel was ill I went without food to ensure my daughter was ok. As well as to save extra petrol for hospital visits between working 50 hours a week. I didn’t break. Just.
Fate a few years later paid off our mortgage. The hardships and pain laid to rest. Now I know if I have a chance to give something back then it’s not in question.
This year when I can’t make the football I ensure someone else can. Knowing we have ensured a new generation see their heroes for the 1st time is reward enough. My kids seats this season have been gifted free of charge almost each game to families or the charity foundation. It’s nice to be nice.
When Amelie had to undergo gruelling light therapy for her Psoriasis we met an angel. 60 miles from home each day a nurse names Sandra would open up before 6am to allow us home for school and for my work. On Amelies last treatment the captain of Caley Thistle accompanied her to show Sandra just how special she is. A friend for life.
6 Holiday!
Life is too short. I can’t say that enough. I love nothing better than jetting off with my girls. We have survived winter’s of pain. Now we enjoy sunsets of joy.
Christmas in New York, our 10th wedding anniversary in Florida to name a couple. Hollywood this year. Don’t wait for tomorrow. Chase it today. Seeing the Ghost Busters fire house made me 5 years old all over again.
Don’t wait for tomorrow!
7 writing.
I found my salvation. In the heat of battle my weapon of choice became the pen. I simply like to write.
I blog about Raising awareness on still birth as well as cancer and mental health. My words have been read 9 thousand times in 2018. I’m still in shock.
2019 is hopefully the year my dream comes true and I become an author. A book written 2 years ago for my kids now within touching distance of being published. 2 years of rejections now a distant memory. Never give up on your dreams.
To see Kyle and indeed this blog mentioned in a best selling book by the wonderful Bella Mackie topped off a superb 2018. Another example of our Son making a difference for so many. Bella I can never thank you enough. Your kind words shall live with me forever.
8 Change of career
I will keep this short. For too long I simply did all i ever knew. I was miserable in the choice of work I did. Eventually I bit the bullet. Now I have the job I craved. I go to work each day and come home smiling and stress free. Not a slight on my previous or current employer. I had to change. And I’m glad I made the leap at 34. You are never too old. Sometimes simple is most rewarding.
9. Social media
Social media can be awful. I have seen so many fall outs all because someone dare “like” or ignore someone’s posts.
Twitter I thank you. For all the genuine people who I have met. Some I have met in person and now call friends. For those who have offered words when I have felt low, read my blog and also shared my joy when life has been kind. I thank each and every one of you for standing my me.
Too many to mention. You all know who each and every one of you are.
10 Hope over fear.
The biggest thing for me has been Hope. Rainbows were out guiding light out of the dark.
After the pain, just waking up to breathe in a new day is victory. Seeing my daughter grow into an amazing young lady. Watching my wife smile again after enough tears to drown our happiness. Volunteering for charity knowing you can make a difference. Talk to someone who needs an ear. Appreciate those who love you as much as you love them.
And fighting for what you believe in. Being part of the achievement of the Scottish Parliament scrapping funeral fees for children. Hearing Kyle’s name being spoken in our Parliament is the legacy we wanted. And on that note 2019 has more to come. watch this space. This is only the beginning.
So that is my 10 year challenge. Only a fraction of the rollercoaster that has passed me by.
If you have even a Glimmer of Hope then the world can be the place you dream it can be.
New year’s eve approaches. The final hours of another chapter in history about to be consigned to the past. Some will rejoice when the clock strikes 12. Others will mourn and for many it’s just another day.
What is a year? 12 months spent wishing it away. A repetitive format for myself until 2018. Time finally caught up with me and I don’t really want this one to end. If only I could delay these fireworks for a little longer.
For the last 10 years I have aged inside at least by 30. Life has volleyed a barrage that I never expected to experience by my twilight years let alone the turn of 30. At 35 I’m in a time warp. Yearning to recapture some of the missing decade yet happy to simply pause the vhs tape at this exact moment of an MP4 digital age.
I’m reflecting in a mirror I no longer recognise. The person staring back is the one now telling me the story. I’m sat down and listening to the blur that passed me by for a decade.
Rewind the clock and I’m watching 2008. Where my selective amnesia began. I’m newly married and after 8 years in the RAF, life was only just beginning. My happily ever after should have been painting the future. Instead the ink ran when tears moved it off course. A new page was turned and the path I had envisaged was being consigned to the history I never knew. Fate had grasped the quill and all I could do was ride out the rollercoaster she strapped me into.
In my 1st year of marriage I had gone from Everest to the ocean floor. My 1st born Son , Kyle was asleep on a beautiful May morning in 2009. The day that my life changed forever.
That was the day I became a Dad. I had a little person that depended on me. And in the coming days I grew into the role for a Son I only spent 12 fleeting hours to hold. Half a day amongst forever. Where the sands of time ran through my fingers as the countdown was on for my final goodbyes. As a Dad I squeezed in a lifetime of parental duties in the tiny window allowed. I sang lullabies, stroked his hair and clasped his little hands. Whispering I love you forever. I vowed at that moment in Glasgows old Southern General that I would honour you as long as I breathed. I carried you home through a Glen of rainbows and gently let you sleep one more time. Now I could see someone new in the mirror. Fractured not broken. Returning to work to pay the bills would be significant later in the tape.
Reflection is hard. When you don’t like what you see it’s easy to look away. Sometimes you have to face up to the past to allow a future.
2010 brought hope. Our broken life was out of the woods and off life support. Our daughter was in our world and we had a new type of parenting to adapt to. Parents to an Angel on earth and one above.
The quill was now writing a more stable story. Staring back at me for the final 3 years of my 20s is almost the man I hoped. At this point I’m searching for a door into the mirror to desperately grab the pen as I know what’s coming. The Glass is piercing as it offers a window to a soul I cannot amend. Locked in I can only look ahead as the pause button is cautiously released.
2013. Edinburgh calls as I complete my 1st Marathon for Kyle as I promised him. The start of something special as awareness is raised and hope is burning in a heart no longer suspended in ice. And then the bomb drops. The ink has splattered all over the page and I cannot reach in. It regroups and pours off the edge in the form of cancer. My beautiful wife at 26 years old. I feel sick watching this horror show on repeat. A Groundhog day I can never erase from memory.
The RAF taught me a lot and this was the year I needed every single ounce of strength and courage. For that I owe them forever.
Our family was on life support again. I helplessly watched as my wife battled with the heart of a lion. I did my absolute best to be a good husband as well as a Father. I worked to keep a roof over head whilst spending every moment possible 60 miles away at Rachels bedside. The page is torn now. Fate is on the brink and I’m selfishly broken and unable to stop it. Forfeiting food so my daughter could eat so I had extra petrol. I’m staring back at a time where hope forgot us.
Fate hadn’t bargained on Rachel. Courage of every Rainbow in the sky. The ink was now grasped and was being forced back onto a course mapped out with the help of some twinkling stars. As the page turned to 2014 and Kyle’s 5th birthday his mummy had won. Cancer was erased for now on this story and we were still together.
I’m taking a moment. From the. Ist intense darkness came the the most brilliant glow of hope. If given the choice I would have remained in 2014 forever. That way nothing could hurt us anymore.
The next 4 years were a whirlwind. 6 marathons came and went. We rebuilt our lives and learned to smile again. We holidayed and enjoyed life. The inner ageing process that had sped up rapidly was slowly reversing before my eyes. My lips were now learning how to rise again and paint a smile. 4 month checks became 6 and life edged closer to the normality we craved. The ink had one more kick as psoriasis checked in to our home to visit Amelie. Not a chance we were losing this. Hospital visits and my daughter had same fight as her mum.
And as quick as that 9 years were gone. What lay ahead was the year that defined our story. It started in May when the Scottish Parliament spoke Kyle’s name. Recalling having to work to pay bills all those moons ago I fought to have Scotland adopt the new laws in Westminster to abolish child funeral fees. And after petitioning I received the call from my MSP to tell me a press release was imminent. We won. Kyle had played a small part in something historic.
Marathon no 7 wasn’t to be. My body simply had nothing left. Time had caught up with me and sadly admitted defeat.
October came and we won the lottery. Rachel was discharged from NHS Scotland. Goodbye cancer. Hello sunny Florida as we celebrated 10 years of Marriage that only 5 was scripted. Amelie was now 1 year skin clear. Dare we dream?
It’s December now and the glass clock is almost at midnight. Surely we had used up all our credit 2018 had to offer. Not just yet. A book written and launched by Bella Mackie all about running and mental health. A special book that mentions Kyle and this blog. Raising awareness was now at stratospheric level. I weeped turning the pages and seeing our Son still helping others almost 10 years on. Bella is beyond an inspiration and it was an honour talking to her. Her book, Jog On. A must read and link is
On the topic of books. They create dreams and allow you to leave behind the world your in if only for a while. Chance encounters. Sometimes fate can work the other way. This was the month I was offered A publishing contract for a book I wrote 2 years ago. My very own dream coming true.
In 5 minutes we enter the final 24 hours of a year I don’t want to end. If only I had a Delorean. The reflection telling the story has now stood up and handed the baton over to me. That person is gone clutching the old vhs as they fade away to my very own history. In their place I now accept the person looking back. The Man staring through the glass has let go of the haunting guilt and the shackles that chained him to the pain of “what if”
I’m now able to see I’m a better person for the pain. I see a storm and know a Rainbow is coming. Hope always shines over fear.
Today for the 1st time I’m going to celebrate the year we leave behind. From tears at Ibrox park following the team I love to cycling Central park. Taking stock of all the goodness the last 365 days have given me. For new friends gained to ones who walked away. To loved ones we said goodbye to.
Tomorrow I’m writing a new chapter in my future. Fate is still a co-pilot but as long as I have one hand on the controls there is still hope.
Kyle would have been 10 years old. We will ensure his legacy will continue to be heard and help those who need it most.
I genuinely wish every one of you a beautiful 2019. I hope you grasp your own destiny and chase those dreams.
The city that never sleeps. The fruit that everyone wants a bite of. New York City. Captivating and enchanting. As a child I grew up hero worshipping Ghost busters as they saved the world from the concrete jungle that can either make or break even the most robust dreams. Also in the depths of the gutter and sewers, Heroes were being born in the guise of Ninja Turtles to millions of kids staring into the glass screen.
A real life movie set. Where every street corner has it’s own iconic piece of history. Skyscrapers that pierce the clouds and plunge into the imagination of both young and old alike.
One of my favourite films growing up was Home alone 2. Apart from being a comedy masterpiece it just returned an element of magic. Seeing a child experience the biggest movie set in the world and selflessly allow a camera lens let the rest of us join in. From heart melting moments of friendship to comedy timing of the bad guys being put in their place. This movie defined my childhood.
Our VHS projecting this incredible snow laden miracle onto my screen captivated me in a way never done before. And it’s only as an adult and father of 2 that I can truly understand and appreciate the role it’s played in my 35 years on this planet we call home.
A story of hope. Against all odds, good triumphing over something bad. Words that can be spoken in the emotionally charged heat of the moment and painfully regretted. Unbridled joy when a 2nd chance has been granted when all seemed lost. For sure I have had those days like a young Kevin McAllister where I simply wished for a better day. And also the adulation when you realise you have a 2nd chance after taking life for granted.
Marv and Harry have resembled a thorn in my side. When all you want is a quiet and stress free life, these 2 appear and add the uncertainty you can clearly do without. However when you do overcome adversity and defeat the obstacle in front of you, only then you can appreciate the magnitude of the victory.
My previous blogs go deeper so I won’t here. All I will say is when life goes after you and the ones you love, it’s a beautiful moment when you can raise your head and say you fought back. Friends are made in the most unexpected manner. Situations you would rather never happened but when someone special walks into your life in a dark time, the Rainbow keeps them forever more when the sun shines back. The Pigeon lady typifies this when Kevin hands her the turtle doves and a friendship is cemented for life.
2016 and I decided dreams are meant to be chased. And there was one city that provided the perfect playground for the thrill. After losing Kyle 7 years prior and cancer taking aim at his mummy, it was time to fight back. And live.
Our 6 year old daughter after her own battles against Psoraisis was now waking up to a live movie set. Our very own miracle was now standing on 34th street right before my very eyes. From regally scaling the Empire state building like a queen (or King) in the pursuit of Saint Nicholas to shouting for Kevin in Central park. Dreams were coming true right before my very eyes. The moment was captivating our entire family in the Christmas spirit that magical city holds. We waltzed through Grand Central station looking for the next arrival in the form of a blockbuster to enter our mind.
From Ice Skating to gazing at the Rockefeller tree as another child did in that movie over 20 years previously. We were creating our very own piece of history for a family that had been on the rocks and was now safely ashore.
When you see the sparkle and hope in a child’s face there is no better feeling as a Father. And for 7 mesmerising days and nights I watched the sun rise through her eyes and stars twinkle at night as the Sandman came to visit.
No matter what your faith or belief, if you have hope, hold onto it. Even the smallest glimmer of light can chase the darkest nights away. If you have a dream then get those running shoes on and go after it like the wind.
Hopefully my little girl will continue to dream and one day make her very own movie set. Whether that be back in New York or from Newcastle. Magic only needs hope to ignite it.
We are only human. And many of us have probably had “Kevin” moments of wanting to escape. And judging a book by its cover? Just as Kevin did with the Pigeon lady, I have done that before and it has taught me valuable lessons.
And maybe it’s an inappropriate way to sign off but here goes in the true spirit of the film….
Merry Christmas ya Filthy Animal. And a Happy New year x
Once upon a time I loved the so called season of goodwill ever since childhood. The one time of year that you can dream. That magic comes to life for young and old alike. And more importantly we remember as Human beings to treat each other a way that’s sadly sometimes forgotten the other 11 months of the year.
December 1st. The start of the traditional advent calendar in the British isles. A festive tradition going back many years. Nowadays some may argue it’s now a commercialised money making process that has engulfed and swallowed the true meaning of Christmas. For me it still retains that magic despite the flaws despite the pain it brings.
A door to open every day of December leading up to Christmas. Something special behind each frame stares back at you every day. Something thought provoking. From a snowman to a reindeer. Each handle opening a door to my imagination.
As a child I used to love counting down the days until Santa arrived. The sheer excitement of hoping for gifts. As a child it offered me an escape for just a little while. Some magic that could make me forget what sometimes was a cruel world.
I simply missed the point and even as an adult it took tragedy to wake me up.
As a parent my world has changed. I now have a little human being depending on me. Being a Dad is the greatest gift I have ever received whether it be Santa’s magic or other forces at work. Waking up each day seeing a smiling face and hearing the cherished words of “I love you Daddy” finds the target of the centre of my heart each time the words are despatched.
2009 changed me. As a person forever. For me a crisis was a missed bus home or forgetting my lunch and having to pop to shops. Then I became a father for the 1st time.
Kyle McGuire came into my life on May 6th 2009. My 1st born son. Asleep in my arms for eternal minutes I will cherish as long as my heart beats and beyond. My 1st experience of having a beautiful extension of my newly formed marriage in my arms. Tears silently fell into the night as nightmares crept from my sleep and became the reality I never dreamed would happen.
We had 12 precious hours with our only son which we squeezed in a lifetime of memories and cuddles. Daddy is no x factor winner but I sang every nursery rhyme my lungs would allow to escape the choking pain to our wee fella. I cupped his hands and made a vow his memory would live on.
In the coming days we had to register a birth and a death in one singular moment. Reality was piercing my self imposed bubble and the cracks were starting. I held firm as A father I knew my family had to be protected.
On a beautiful sunny day I fulfilled my duty of carrying my boy in his beautiful angelic white bed and laying him to sleep one last time. Thankfully the sun was shining as my sunglasses hid my eyes the day my soul was dying before everyone to see. I repeated my vow as balloons sailed high.
Our life in ruins. I can’t describe any other way. Until Kyle had other ideas. His little sister was on her way. Our healing was beginning. Fate was now entering our lives.
Christmas Day 2009. Under the beautiful shadow of a snowy Ben Nevis we made the trip home. All I can give my lad on his 1st Christmas is a wreath and the pain was colder than the ice below my feet. And then something happened I can’t explain. A Robin lands on the grass, hops on the Gravel and sits on Kyle’s headstone. Finally he lands on my boot and looks at us for what seemed an eternity then flies away. Our Angel was saying his very own goodbye and amongst the Freezing snow, we felt the warmest glow possible. It ignited my fire that moment. It was Christmas magic beyond my wildest dreams.
In the coming years life took a great bloody kick at us. Cancer went after Kyle and Amelies mummy. Their mummy fought and won. As a family we fought together. We raised 7 thousand pounds in Kyle’s name. For all our pain we felt there was always someone worse off. 6 marathons came and went. Highs and lows. Blood, sweat and rivers of tears.
2018 has been a special year for our little family. Kyle’s name was heard in our parliament as we fought alongside many others to have funeral expenses abolished I’m Scotland. And we won. Proud beyond words of what our Son achieved. His mummy beat cancer and has been discharged from the NHS. For the 1st time in 10 years we have a very special Christmas to look forward to. Forget money and riches. Our family has had a lottery win with luck at last with our health. This year we are eternally grateful for all. We have each other.
Amelie now understand Christmas more than I ever did at her age. 8 years old and after selling her excess toys she donated her money to the local foodbank by buying a full shopping trolley of food. As a parent I’m bursting with pride at what both of our kids have achieved this year.
In my darkest days I questioned many things. I walked on the edge and stared into the abyss. Amongst the darkness hope flickered back. I grasped onto it and clung to it no matter how faint. It saved my life.
We have taught our daughter it costs nothing to simply be kind. Someone could be hurting behind a glass smile and you wouldn’t know. She still has her list for Santa although it’s small and mainly asked for something for her Mummy and cat. Another sign we are on the right path.
I’m eternally grateful for all the goodwill shown to my family. Not just the month of December but all year round. From strangers on social media I now class as friends to our loved ones around us. You have shown us love and kindness we will try and give back as you have for us. I promised our lad and we will try and make the world a tiny bit better if we can.
I’m writing this the day we put up our tree. A smiling little face as bright as the electrical beams reflecting back at her. Simple innocent childhood joy. We know our tree isn’t the only star beaming down at us.
Whatever your beliefs are I sincerely wish you the very best for the coming Holiday season. Life is so precious. Enjoy every moment. Christmas really can be every day if you want. We only get one chance. Leave no regrets x
The human mind. The most powerful weapon we possess as an individual. The ability to process more than any super computer can ever dream of doing should it manage that feat.
I underestimated the power such a device holds. I’m going to try and unlock the back door and allow a small glimpse into my own control room. To allow a fresh perspective on the operator of my bodily machine. How it has coped under stress and performed when the batteries were failing all around. A guided tour of the mission control to on A person’s soul if you like.
Every magnificent human being is unique. We are all special in different ways. Not all of us will be a Doctor or a Scientist. Not every Doctor or Scientist can Run a marathon. Not every Marathon runner can swim a yard. We are all in multiple league tables. No matter how good you are at any task there will always be someone better. Equally no matter how poor we may think we are, there is always someone worse off.
The last sentiment in particular rings true to myself and I will explain shortly why such a phrase is a key programming of my own computer system.
I’m 35 years old. In truth I feel 75 some days. Other days I have the vibrancy I did aged 15 mentally although my physicality will bring it back to earth.
Resilience has been my best friend over the last 25 years. A companion who I may not have always wanted but needed. From my early childhood and misery of school life to achieving my life goal of wearing the Uniform of the Royal Air Force as so many of my family did before. There were times that my biological vehicle had nothing left in the tank. Drained and on the verge of giving up when times got rough. Resilience had stowed on board and would take the controls just as the eye of the storm threatened to strike.
From wanting to quit my dreams to life in general. A silent guardian angel took her place In the epicentre of my mind and has remained loyal ever since.
In 2009 I was finally on cruise control. Married to the woman of my dreams. 1st Child on the way. Life was now mapping out exactly the stereotype That was permanently inked onto my brain. And then came the derailment. We had lost our only Son. The Angels had decided he was simply too perfect for this world and called him home. My control room simply overheated. Searching for the solution as life malfunctioned right before my very eyes. The script was not being followed. A glitch was deep rooted yet could not be found. A super computer more complex than the human mind was now flexing its power to show that no matter how great your own arsenal is, life holds a far greater strike capacity.
This was when I discovered my own auto pilot. When I lost full control of my own self. A time where I fell away as resilience took shifts with the heart at steadying a now listing vessel.
Part of me died in May 2009 when we laid Kyle to rest. A hand grenade of emotion had been tossed and I thought throwing myself on it would protect others at my own expense. I could take on the world to save those I loved and emerge unscathed. How wrong I was. The invisible wounds cut to the bone.
From that Day the damage was done. My internal servers damaged. The grenade had exploded and scattered a mixture of worry, anxiety and pain that now firmly embedded and could not be removed. Feelings that carried a noise that would remain forever.
Slowly I began to learn the controls again. Small steps. Figuring out how to smile was challenging although it was harder to cry at the right time. The damage would not allow tears when they were ready. Something held them back. Pride overload meant this was done in silence when the world was asleep. The feeling of being superman was uploaded and giving a false reading of The definition. The numbness was only masking the pain I was causing myself.
When Cancer decided to go after my wife within 5 years, code red was in full flow. The temporary repairs were now crumbling all around me. Resilience was working double shifts. As my wife battled she gave me strength. Her courage charged my auto pilot and gave me the fire to fight on. As life pressed the nuclear button it also fired a defining moment. As a family of 3 we stared down the barrage that was coming our way. And we had the choice to either sink or swim. The superhero cape was on its final legs with the love of my wife and daughter holding us together.
I’m going to admit that ashamedly part of me wanted to sink. I pleaded with any religious part of my soul. I begged for life to spare my 2 girls from the impending misery and I offered my own place. To be clear on something, Suicide never has or was a option. Allowing any God to trade however was completely on the table.
Resilience thankfully took the stick and fired back. As I said before, my family were now providing the energy I had badly craved. We decided to fight back. We owed it to our kids to say mummy and daddy didn’t just accept the cards we were dealt.
We decided that No matter how bleak things were there was always someone else worse off than we were. We fought back. We took the controls and struck a few salvos back at life. We raise awareness for Kyle. We have ran marathons while this runner can’t swim. We will not go down without a fight.
And so In October 2018 the guns fell silent. Rachel was discharged from the NHS after 5 long years in a war we never ever wished. We took ourselves on a much needed escape from the fractured reality of the past to mark 10 years of Marriage. To start the healing process that we have needed for so long.
Resilience had now stood down from her duty. 10 years and beyond of serving a vessel that for a while bounced from rock to rock risking breaking apart at any given moment.
This was When the last explosion hit me. Silence.
For the 1st time in years I was able to shut down at the end of a day without the shrapnel of anxiety and worry embedded in my mind. Free from the fear of losing everything when I restarted my systems each day with the first blink.
Now came a new challenge. Facing up to the new Normal. The first silence in years. Although different as the echoes of The last decades pain still linger. My tap of tears is slowly learning to flow when required. I’m Taking back control of myself once again albeit with many modifications and repairs.
Resilience still has a passenger seat. To catch me when I fall and remind me when doubt creeps in that it can be removed. I have also kept a space for hope. Without hope my engines will not fire up. It’s really as simple as that.
The human mind is a beautiful thing. It’s capable of so much wonder yet can be as fragile as a butterflies wing. Like any machine as long as it’s looked after it can function. More importantly I learned that if damage is unavoidable it’s certainly not game over. You can repair. You can fight back. The love of others can offer the healing when maybe you can’t find it yourself.
Life may be a wave that little bit more powerful. We have every right to ride that crest and cherish every moment we are on the board.
I’m scribbling this deep onto the night in October. The time of Halloween and all things mystical and enchanting. Currently in my last night in the sunshine state of Florida. A land of Mickey Mouse and Theme parks where dreams are created. The land of the American dream.
Sometimes you can’t see the wood for the trees. And when the clarity arrives, she does so maybe as striking as Lady Godiva was all those moons ago.
Some who know me will know about the last 10 years of my family life. And the Irony of how we have set up home on a constant Rollercoaster that dwarfs anything the sunshine state has to offer.
The feeling of the last decade began on my wedding day to my amazing wife. Walking down the aisle mirrored with going onto a thrill ride for the 1st time, not knowing what life would now give. 10 years of a constant emotional loop. From exhilaration of the Birth of my daughter to the utter despair of losing our only Son, Kyle. When you add my wife’s cancer at 26 the fun of the fair had left my world. The lights had gone out and I now prayed to be allowed to jump off these fractured tracks that were infused to my fate. For all the prayers this was my very own hotel California. A journey I simply could not leave.
The carriage was broken down and for 10 years intermittently trundled along. Some days running free only for the cruelty of fate to sharply apply life’s parking brakes.
October 2018 was the month our family was finally able to step off after a 10 year voyage. Rachel discharged from our wonderful NHS care after 5 years, just days before we landed in Florida. A holiday we craved so much now took on even more significance.
For the 1st time in years I went to bed without worry. I closed my eyes and instead of departing to the land of nod via a mental meteor storm, I now travelled in 1st class comfort over a Rainbow.
We have spent 2 weeks laughing and building dreams. Seeing our 8 year old daughter now a full year psoriasis free has given back more than her physical health. We have seen her care free again with her confidence back. That as a parent has been a beautiful sight.
Disney world and all its glory. Our own princess has absorbed herself into her very own fairy tale. Meeting heroes and making memories that will sparkle on in her memory as precious as the pixie dust sprinkled by Tinkerbell onto the gazing crowds below. Eyes lit up as the fireworks overhead painted the sky with her hopes and dreams.
And then on the final day of our trip came the lightbulb moment I was waiting for. A spark that Nikola Tesla himself would have been proud of.
Universal Studios. From legends such as ET to Marty McFly’s Delorean and the carnival of Dr Seuss land. You cannot fail to be impressed. Then you see the main event.
Harry Potter Land. Even if you are not a fan, the spellbinding beauty captures you. If you are a lover of all things from Muggles to Bellatrix then this is your heaven on earth.
Walking along to join the queue for the Hogwarts express line there she was. A lady I’m front of me. Not wishing to sound rude I would have guessed aged early 50s. Dressed in a Harry Potter robe, wand in hand and crucially the final piece of the outfit…. A smile as wide as the eye could see. A lady who was Cleary caught in a very special moment. A moment where every single one of us on that platform became stripped of the age that our bodies had bestowed on us. For that splinter of time we had become whatever we wanted. Our minds separating from reality to allow an escape to something simply beautiful in every sense.
I don’t know her name and I probably never will. However to the lady we saw today on Platform 9 and 3/4 at Kings Cross awaiting the trip to hogsmeade I will say one thing.
The summer of 2000. So many memories from the time I completed my 2nd and final phase of training.
Robbie Williams was huge at the time with his album Singing when your winning. England had played their final game at the old Wembley and lost 1 nil to their old foes Germany. The weather was glorious and life was good.
I was on a new course with some I had been in basic training with and others just met. We had a real good mix of half of us under 18 and half over. We all gelled and the next 1e weeks were a good laugh amongst the pressure of final graduation.
Inbetween a trip to Wales took place for adventure training. Right on day my beloved Rangers were playing Celtic in the opening fixture of the season. At the time all I had was a text service of goal updates at 30p a pop. No radio or phone signal meant a torturous journey. At last my phone sprung to life and cost me best part of 3 quid as the horror unfolded we had lost 6-2. My colleagues whooped in delight to annoy the token Scotsman. The other one Stevie being Rugby daft and didn’t care. I will talk about Stevie a little later. Someone I hold in the highest regard and a friend forever.
Wales was a great laugh and for the first time I was emerging from my shell and allowing my own persona to develop, free from fear of failure.
Back to Halton and we graduated for a 2nd time. Once again my family travelled from the north of Scotland to witness an Air Vice Marshall present our course with the rank of Leading Aircraftman. We were now ready to depart to our units! Goodbye training and hello to the Real Air Force!
I had been assigned RAF Kinloss on the Moray coast and only 2 hours from home. This was a dream. Freedom yet able to see family at such a young age. And after being on the same intake of 5 & 6 Flight, Stevie and I were posted together along with Simon (Harry). I had 2 pals at my new home immediately.
Harry 1st left still pals 18 years on
1st day at RAF Kinloss. No longer a recruit but now a fully part of the armed forces. And it felt amazing. Walking to work a group.of Air cadets at summer camp stood to attention as we passed. I laughed as on my days prior this was us. Then I heard a voice saying “Hello Michael “. As i turned it was a young lass I went to school with. I laughed as her warrant officer bollocked her only to recognise me being younger than her from school. Her red face was priceless.
I now had my own room, and a be and new life. I’m the year that followed I was able to fly in a Nimrod, the Anti Submarine hunter that was our fleet at at Kinloss. I went to Germany with the Squadron football team and came home with my 1st trophy and 1st adventure abroad as a serviceman. All I can say was it had it all. From wrongful arrests in holland to nights out in Germany. 18 years old and my dreams were coming true.
Runner up plate from RAF Bruggen, Germany 2001
I had progressed as everyone did to Senior Aircraftman and became fully operational. This meant I would soon be going on my 1st Out of Area (OOA) tour. And within a few weeks the signal came that in September 2002, the South Atlantic would be my home for 4 months as I joined the Penguins down the Falkland islands.
A famous day in history arrived I will never forget. I had returned from lunch and found the hangar deserted. Oddly I wandered and found the entire squadron watching tv. As i walked in I saw an aircraft slam into one of the twin towers in New York. I asked why they were watching a movie? To my horror this was real. September 11th 2001 and the day the world changed. Immediately the base went into lockdown. Airspace over the Atlantic closed and we prepared for multiple flight arrivals. Thankfully it never happened. This was the day the world changed forever.
A month before I left one small mishap occurred that would play a part in coming weeks. Alone on night shift making a cuppa, the fire alarm sounded. At 1st I suspected a false alarm but I followed procedure and located what was an electrical fire with flames 30ft. Training kicked in and after calling emergency service’s I simply tried to remove as much combusatble material as possible as within reach was a cardboard storage area. The firemen swiftly arrived and blew away the myth all they did was play volleyball. I was ordered out as they done their business.
Half an hour later the boss was called in and I was let’s just say shiting myself. Turns out I hadn’t made any error. After being offered to go home I.declined. I finished my last 7 hours as we had ops needing cargo that wouldn’t send itself.
And so came September 11th 2002. A failed driving tests as nerves beat me. September 12th was the trek to the South Atlantic on a Tri-star aircraft ZE706 nicknamed Damien for many reasons. Arriving on Friday 13th. I couldn’t have written the script.
Arriving halfway at ascension island we waited on refuel. My Scotland top on someone laughed as we had a piss poor draw with faroesjust days earlier. Hearing My accent the gentleman asked where I was from. When I replied Fort William ” , he asked “are you Mickeys lad”? I was speechless. Turns out the stranger was an electrical contractor pal of my dad’s. We chatted thethen got back on the plane. He was the row in front of me! 18 years on I now work with his son in law. A small world indeed.
Waiting down there were some familiar faces from home. Stevie had departed days earlier to keep our fate tied once more. Dirk and Richey also there made the transition easy. As the plane taxied I looked out to see a group all dressed up holding score cards for the pilots as well as the grim reaper stating “welcome to hell”. Immediately I laughed and felt at ease. Even better was to come finding out this was my squadron and I would be joining in on future arrivals.
The Falkland Islands. So much to say. A small group of islands yet so important. To honour the fallen heroes of the 1982 conflict and also protect the islanders in the present day to ensure they lived the same freedom we take for granted. For the 255 Brave Men who gave the ultimate sacrifice in 1982 it was humbling to be standing in a place of relative peace all because of them. Every one of us owed it to them to serve the islands without fuss and with honour.
A beautiful place. The nature was stunning and at 19 I didn’t fully appreciate what an opportunity I had as the bar was more appealing on downtime sadly. I did however go on battlefield tours and pay respects to fallen from both sides. I met heroes who served in 82 and were back again. It was an honour to be in such company.
I settled into life well and my new role. We had phone cards issued every week. 20 minutes each. We use to either trade them or save up for Xmas etc.
Myself with Chinook refuelling 2002
We had no satellite tv or Wi-Fi, internet was offered at 30 minutes a day. Just a standard forces tv which included soaps from week before and the odd live game of football. I remember vividly watching Rangers and Celtic battle a 3-3 draw as we all huddled round a small tv screaming.
As the days moved on, others you got to know would be leaving and saying goodbyes. The closer it got to your own date the harder it was seeing others depart knowing you had weeks left and minus a buddy every day. However we certainly knew how to give the lads a send off.
Richey was lucky or unlucky some would say to have been twice in 2 years. In the middle his R&R (rest and recuperation) he was allowed back to Blighty. On his return he took me a Big Mac from McDonald’s. It survived 18 hours and I could have kissed him. I microwaved it as scores gathered to smell a little home comfort. I couldn’t do it. So I cut it into a million pieces to let everyone have the moment. I felt like Andy Dufrense on that prison rooftop In shawshank redemption.
Logistics Squadron football team 2002
Remembrance weekend now arrived and being not on parade or duty we went for a drive to Darwin. There we went to the Argentine war cemetery to pay our respects to their fallen. It was the right thing to do. I’m still haunted to this day by the images of boys younger than I was on the many graves. We laid flowers and saluted before solemnly leaving for home.
Christmas came and went. A barbecue and drinks. Probably the hardest day as the booze flowed. I retired to bed by 3pm. A mixture of drunk and missing my loved ones on a family day of the year. Thankfully the RAF family look after each other on days like this.
Hercules over South Georgia
Before we knew it new years eve had crept up. As we prepared for a night off I had taken part that day in police dog training for charity. The dog slipped and missed me leading to laughter. As scores of the Squadron were gathering in the bar, I was being purposely kept back in work. Worried i had dine wrong I said nothing. Eventually I was last in and convinced I was up for Wanker of the week award for failed for bite. This was 4pm.
Our Sqaudron leaders said a few words thanking us all for our dedication away from home. He then asked me on stage. I front of a few hundred army, navy and air force all wanting away for 7pm.
He had received news that the new years honours had just been announced. and in the military ones I was being awarded an Air officer commanding number 3 group commedation for bravery. He handed me 2 letters from my station commander at Kinloss and the wing commander. The bar was proclaimed open 3 hours early to the delight of our boys and girls. I never had to buy a drink all night on arguably the best hogmanay of my life.
Sheepishly I wandered off for 5.minutes to use my phone card and tell my mum and dad of the surreal events that had just unfolded. The proudest moment of my military career.
My award ceremony at RAF Kinloss with GP Capt Porter
11 short days later and thankfully there were no delays in the airhead. My replacement had arrived and after Stevie, Dirk and Richey leaving my turn was now. 4 months that will never be forgotten almost at an end. I was lucky enough to fly over South Georgia on a Hercules an see ice fields as well as fly in cockpit of a Chinook. Experiences I will treasure forever.
The last drama came at Gatwick. Waiting to go to Inverness I declared I had a hollowed our Tornado ammunition round. I had paperwork yet British airways has never seen. I was quizzed by terror cops as people stared. I offered to bin it as all.i wanted was home. I eventually made my flight as my colleagues enjoyed the free lounge I missed out on.
12th January and back home IN Scotland. Just under 3 years served in the RAF and not even 20 yet. It was the stuff of dreams. Although like all dreams they must come to an end.
16 years old. Inverness on a cold wet morning and applying to Join Her Majesty Armed Forces. A day I will never forget. From aptitude tests to medicals.
My dream was to Join the RAF from a young age. My grandfather had worn the uniform amongst many others on my Father’s side. In truth it was also an escape from the world I no longer felt part of. A deep rooted hatred of School. A miserable experience finally free of the bullies and vermin that had made mine and many others life unbearable. Maybe a sign I had to toughen up and fight back.
I had experience my first setback as my hearing had failed me on one side to a point it had ruled out my hope of being an Air Traffic controller. Truth is I wasn’t disheartened. I would have taken anything to be in the Air Force and I settled on the trade of Supply and Movements. I had been accepted and would be leaving in the following May. First steps were taken.
February 2000 and a week before my 17th birthday the call came through that someone had pulled out. My new date was in 2 weeks time. Feb 29th wasn’t just a leap year in time, it was the biggest jump of my young life.
Saying my goodbyes I stepped into the Caledonian Sleeper train ( Ironic as could not sleep a wink) in Fort William and departed for the bright lights of London. The furthest I had been away from home alone was Glasgow, a mere 100 miles away. This was another stratosphere for me.
Arriving in London was surreal. I had printed maps ( long before days of smart phones) and meandered my way through the swathes of bodies making their normal daily commute. Finally arriving at the small Wendover station. Stepping off the train I had no need to look for directions. An immaculately dressed drill instructor (DI) stood with a staff, ushering swarms of giant ants towards the carriages that awaited them.
This was it. Deep breaths and no turning back.
In the holding room I tucked into a Green Apple provided. My stomach wouldn’t allow me to take on anything else as my nerves were chasing butterflies. Looking around I could see people of all ages, waiting for the start gun to sound. Next up I had to lose all of my hair and pay for the privilege! Every male now looked the same 1950s style convict. This part I found hardest yet now I can laugh being bald at 35 it was simply a wee heads up to the future. We were then ushered into a hall where we took our Bibles and swore the Oath of Allegiance to our Queen and Country. I was now fully attested into the Royal Air Force. My childhood ended 90 seconds previous and my adulthood was just beginning.
I was assigned to no 6 Flight. Our Sgt Weaving and 2 Corporals, Smith and Mayor. All 3 took no prisoners. From the off we were left with no illusions. They expected the highest standards. Yet they were charismatic and compassionate when required.
1st few days I struggled. I relapsed between the man I needed to be and the boy I was leaving behind. I cried for my mum the 1st week solid much to the disgust of the 3 guys I shared a room with. Homesick for a life only yesterday I was desperate to leave behind. Being under 18 I could only leave if my parents consented. Easy. Mum crumbled as expected. My Dad? Threatened to disown me and said I had no home to return to. I hated him there and then. He had single handedly destroyed my last hope of escape. We have never seen eye to eye but I will concede what he did for me I’m eternally grateful.
For the 1st 16 days it was bedtime at 3am and up at 5am. Literally scrambling for every ounce of energy. Many would fall asleep in lectures, we all did at some point relying on the person next to you to shake you awake. It was team work yet again.
3 meals a day, mainly carbs were devoured as I gained weight. Physical education came in form of gruelling cross country runs and circuits. Rooms and barrack block had to be immaculate. From dust free to the brass window latches gleaming. And this was before you made sure your Kit and locker was perfect. From creases in shirts to “bulling” your shoes for a perfect mirror reflection. Not to mention the dreaded bed pack. Draconian bedding squared perfectly into layers so a coin could bounce from them. Not ashamed to say once I had mine mastered I slept on the floor in order to squeeze in previous minutes sleep in the coming nights. My batteries were dead and I was onto my emergency reserves.
Only when your older and wiser do you realise that even your best was never going to get pass marks. Many a day beds were ripped apart, lockers emptied and left a quivering wreck as your Drill Instructor disects your confidence like the birthing scene from alien. Then they slowly build you back up as a team.
First test was Day 17. A huge kit inspection. Failure would mean backflighted. Success would allow the 1st weekend pass and a little freedom. 1st test duly passed and my fractured jigsaw of confidence and the 1st piece reconnected. Celebration was a jaunt into Aylesbury with Dave, who was our senior man. Dave was a Geordie and a bit older. He seen my struggle and took me under his wing. A gentleman who I owe so much.
Rock and roll for me was home by 4pm and I slept until 4pm the following Sunday. Ready for round 2.
The next phase was Ground Defence Training (GDT) with the infamous RAF regiment flight. These guys had a reputation of being utter hard Bastards and hard as nails. And they didn’t disappoint. We spent the next 3 to 4 weeks learning everything from first aid to weapon handling of the SA80 assault rifle. Even now I think I could strip one and reassemble such was the drill used.
We also got the dreaded Gas chamber as part of our Nuclear, Biological and Chemical warfare (NBC). The horror stories were infamous from hearing them in the Mess (dining) hall. You enter a locked room fully kitted up and then the green mist descends. Nothing. Easy. Then you are instructed to remover your mask and say your name and service number. For a millisecond it’s fine. Then the fire hits. Your eyes stream and you cannot breathe. Eventually after suffering enough you are allowed to leave. The proof of having confidence in your Kit right before your bloodshot eyes may just save your life. Now we could take part in the infamy and enjoy terrorising recruits yet to face the chamber.
After passing more exams and final exercise phase in the field now came the final weeks before pass out. Day 43 inspection. The most vigorous yet. Any mistakes now just days from graduation would be nothing short of a disaster. Not many slept that night as we ensured our standards were above the highest. And come 10am after we had all finished a night exercise we collapsed in an exhausted relief. I could call home and tell Mum and Dad to book their flights.
In between all this I got some welcome weekend respite. My aunt paid for flights and I got some precious hours back in the Highlands to cure my homesickness. I can never thank her enough. It got me over the line.
Final prep was now in order for the final week. Drill and more Drill. The weather was awful and on the 18th of April 2000, the day was finally here.
Our No 1 Uniform that had stayed immaculate in our lockers was now given permission to Join the party. Pulling on the Blue peaked hat, White Gloves and gleaming shoes was probably the proudest moment of my life. As we formed up in the indoor facility I caught a glimpse of my family. This was our moment. We marched to the Royal Air Force band and graduated after 7 weeks of intense mental and physical endurance. The feeling was elation. Seeing my family now as a Man after leaving them as a Boy.
One thing spurred me on. My local bar, many guys I had known as a child had placed bets on me leaving and being a failure. After week 1 I admit I was. However no matter the circumstances I stuck it out to prove them wrong. One friend named Lachie always told me visiting home I could do it. He fought my corner. and he was an Inspiration. Sadly Lachie is no longer with us but his footprint is well and truly left on my pathway.
Now came phase 2 and trade training and the beginning of some friendships that have lasted almost 20 years. My journey was only just beginning.
3 simple words yet life changing in the moment they flow from someone else’s voice.
I’m writing this from the view of someone on the other side of the window. Looking in from afar yet close enough to reach in. I can never give a perspective on someone who has battled this illness and I apologise if this offends anyone who has.
October 2013. The month of scares and frights and the year it also attached the meaning to our family. We had lost our only Son just 4 years before. This wasn’t for us. We had already received our portion of bad luck. Surely no God could be so cruel?
Something wasn’t right. And instinct had told us to get checked over. Our GP instantly referred to hospital and we duly obliged. Smears were up to date and we just needed the closure that it’s nothing. But it wasn’t. Something was found and needed a biopsy. The eternal optimist in myself refused to believe sinister and reassured Rachel it was all ok. 6 days later my words were chewed up and spat out in my face as we were give the news we feared.
As a husband and father of a 3 year old I wore my cape. I had to be strong and hold it together. Unable to cry or show emotion as I had my world resting on my shoulders.
The initial shock passed, Rachel wiped her tears and she vowed it’s game on. “I’m not losing, my little needs her mummy”
3 day a before the diagnosis was the Fort William half marathon. Waiting for me were my 2 ladies and I wasn’t letting them down. Stupidly I hurt my ankle at mile 8 and didn’t quit. Pride pushed the last 5miles when my body cried not to. I had stress fractured my heel. The reason I recall this is as it played an unlikely role in events to come.
Next stop on our journey was now Aberdeen for a staging scan. Stage 1 of the fight back was on. As I hobbled in, most folk assumed the hospital visits to Inverness and Doctors in coming weeks were for my foot. It was the perfect cover for the Privacy that was deserved. Although what I will openly say is people in positions on authority leaked the news before we told some family members. It took a while but I forgive them.
And so came the 1st week in December. When our life froze in conjunction with the weather outside. I was firmly pressed against the window. Unable to intervene as my best friend was being injected with chemicals. Helpless as you see someone only 26 going into round 1 with destiny itself and you can only stand in the corner.
Worse came next. The 1st goodbyes. Having to leave my wife behind in hospital accommodation 60 miles away. Returning home to comfort a confused 3 year old and lie to her that mummy is working away. Listening to the emotion as Mummy phoned every night for 6 weeks reading a bedtime story when I could see the pain in her words.
This is where my Glass shattered. I Tried to break through and cut myself in the process. It’s a window you cannot escape. When Amelie was asleep and the world couldn’t see me I cried in a corner. Feeling selfish as I wasn’t ill. I had no right.
The coming weeks were tough. I forfeited food in order to squeeze extra petrol money. So I could make midweek trips after work to be with my wife as well as be a Daddy and work to keep a roof over our head. It broke me.
I don’t work for my employer anymore. What I will say is they treated me with compassion and went beyond what anyone else legally would do. For that I’m always going to be grateful.
We spent Christmas at home together and my girls were as one. Despite being very sick Rachel smiled all day for Amelie when inside she was exhausted.
New year brought another trip to Aberdeen and round 2 was beginning. 2 consecutive weekends of operations. Again my window kept me at bay. A view of the ring but blocked from entering. After being on the ropes I was at Ringside to be told that the tumour was gone. Rachel had put cancer on its Arse as she landed a knockout blow.
We arrived home victorious and delighted Rachel could finally rest up. Nope the judges of fate had ruled a rematch and hospital called again. Rachel’s Gall bladder had taken too much. Chemotherapy prevented instant operation so the next few weeks were spent in and out of hospital waiting on the bell to sound. Eventually it did and once again victory was within grasp. And yet again fate was playing every cruel card it had left. C Diff ran into the ring with a blindside attack. Only the interception of blue lights and intensive care stopped a 10 count.
I spent 2 days in my work clothes by your side as I prayed. The window opened a little so I could hold your hand as rainbows shone.
And finally in April 2014 we Got to take you home. Our NHS team had played a blinder in your corner and we had our world together again. May 2014 would change everything. Our little boys 5th birthday you were summoned to Inverness. As we travelled Rainbows reminded us who was with us. And on Kyle’s big day his Mummy went into remission.
You went back to work that summer and climbed a small hill behind our home less than 6 months after chemo yet it was bigger than Everest in effort. You had put cancer on the floor and won. Although it remained for the next few years refusing to leave the table just yet.
February 2016 arrived with something special. I foolishly never checked our life insurance. I only wanted to make you better and was last thing on mind. Turned out our policy was valid and it paid out. Our mortgage was gone. Bitter sweet moment thinking back on struggling at our darkest times. Now we had something good. Trips to new York for Christmas followed and we created our very own fairy tale.
Our Daughter also took after her Mummy with a fighting spirit. When fate went after her with psoriasis she battled. 2 years of hospital trips and she now stands 11 months clear. My girls simply do not know when they are beaten. Fate would be wise to pick a fight elsewhere.
The windows have been well and truly replaced and the locks allow me to be a lot closer. We have our family together. We know how fortunate we are when sadly we have friends no longer with us. We are eternally grateful for the 2 Children we have when some have none.
All throughout you have acted with immense dignity and pride. Teaching me how to become a better human being, Husband and Father in the process.
Cancer got into the ring with the wrong girl on this occasion. In the face of adversity you stood up to every single punch it threw and you fired them straight back.
If anyone reading this is due a Smear test or is scared I plead with you to go. I’m a Man and won’t patronize or pretend to understand the physical pain or discomfort involved. But I will tell you it’s nothing compared to locking horns with the alternative.
We are flying to visit our old pals Mickey and Minnie mouse next week to celebrate 10 years of Marriage when we almost got derailed at 5. Celebrating our vows especially “sickness and in health” never did we envisage they would be so vital so soon.
Life is too short. Live it. Smile. If you have a dream then chase it. Nothing is impossible and if you believe in something then go after it. One day I will write my little poetry book for Kyle even if it’s my last days. 2018 has seen Kyle’s name spoken in Parliament making his parents proud.
October 2nd 2018 was the day my lottery ticket came up. Forget all the money in Fort Knox I’m a Billionaire in Love. My world makes me rich beyond my wildest dreams.
A special mention to our NHS. You are the reason my daughter still has her Mummy. I owe you my gratitude forever. Also to Miss Prince who is sadly gone to soon, you are forever a hero in our home.
Cancer one day you will be beaten. May not be in my lifetime but Its coming.
For my family “Float like a butterfly” you certainly did the rest is history x
The Glass is half full. For 10 years no matter how many leaks and spillages occur, my glass has never fallen below the midpoint.
Many a time it has come close but Rain has always come when a drought threatened my thoughts.
After losing Kyle, as a Father I immediately put up my barriers. An impenetrable object that not even Barnes wallace could bounce a teardrop from. If my Dam had shown even the slightest crack then my hope may have escaped to the ravine of fear that has been camped outside for 10 years.
On the 6th of May 2009 the brightest Son in our solar system had gone to sleep. That same day Part of me also was laid to rest. No longer 100% human, I was devoid of a little fire and hunger in my heart. A partial empty space now lay in its place.
As my light slowly went out, so did many others as some friends and loved ones jumped on the first flight out or our life. Wandering in a bleak cave of life’s ruins, Gold would slip through my fingers as loneliness joined the group. Luckily some Gems never fell and indeed a few rubys dropped into our world from above.
When the Cave finally allowed light to guide us out, I would rather a handful of rubys than mountains of gold that didn’t want to stick around when the going got tough.
This was when Mr Jekyll introduced Mr Hyde to my soul.
For 10 years my 95% existence functioned. Embracing a new normality. I tried to bring something positive from the harshest winter Pain could conjure. Raise awareness for Kyle and throw a few counter punches when the 12th round was stuck on repeat for so long.
And when I woke up with my 95% leading the charge, I could conquer any army that life advanced on me. Marathons would shell any negative infantry. Charity work sailed the seven seas beating back any hurricane that had formed out of tears.
And then it would come. The day you knew existed yet was kept at bay. The 5% that never made it to the front of the queue. No warning alert system could stop it. A tidal wave of emotion plucked out of nowhere has now breached what was once an impregnable perimeter wall. And for a split second after tears raised their flag in victory, silence. No words or sound. A millennium of silence that lasted seconds. The clear blue skies you had painted for so long were fading away before your very eyes as something replaced it. A Red mist would come crashing down packed with the emotions you had locked away and submerge all in its path.
Dr Jekyll had left the building as Mr Hyde put on his specs. Casually lifted the half full glass and smashed it into a thousand pieces of hope. Consumed by everything that you had tried to hide. Anger and Fear were now on the stage and nor letting go of the microphone any time soon. Hatred for anything was now infecting my body.
In between such Raw emotional weather came a way out. A train pulled up with St Peter’s gates as it’s final destination. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. Especially if a welcome party awaits. It was a one way ticket. If for just one day there was an offer for return travel then I think the train would be sold out. However despite the red mist clouding all sane judgement, there was never a chance of boarding a journey I couldn’t return from. The carriages remained empty for a reason. I had never even come close to boarding and pray I never will.
I stepped back from the platform edge. Soundly knowing what and to be done. As with any weather event, this storm would pass. My mood would snarl it’s teeth at innocent bystanders as I scurried to find somewhere to bunker down.
Like any storm, my rainbow simply had to follow. And it waved off Mr Hyde as she duly arrived from the heavens. My Glass had been replaced with a fresh supply of hope that topped it up. The 95% part of me carefully placing it out of reach of the 5.
For 10 years I have tried to suppress the small gap within me. Tried to hide it away. And the more I try the bigger it expands.
Now when I know it’s coming there is no point trying to fight off a tsunami with a bucket and spade. It has to come out and hopefully it can pass without anyone witnessing the event.
It’s not easy for me as a Male to talk about feelings. Especially when life has had more ups and downs than a theme park.
When the Red Mist descends a Rainbow will always follow.
Friends. What would a world be without them? Good and bad times it’s a lonely universe if none orbit your own planet.
I’m going to share a little. About someone I have an eternity of memories yet they only ran into my life 5 years ago.
September 2014. I’m about to run only my 2nd Marathon after fracturing my heel bone the previous November. A lot more than bones were in the healing process. My incredible wife was 4 months in remission from cancer after diagnosis at 26.
Months of gruelling treatment had taken it’s toll yet would not break her incredible spirit. Our family had taken enough of a beating the last 5 years since our little boy gained his wings. We were Rocky Balboa and Ivan Drago was life giving us body blow after blow. We were on the ropes but saved by the bell of hope every round.
My 1st counter punch was the 2013 Edinburgh marathon for Kyle. My 1st achievement of raising money in his name and the 1st of hopefully creating the legacy I had promised. By November I was on the canvas twice in 3 days with Rachel’s diagnosis and then the heel injury.
3 day a prior to the numbing day the doctor called, I was running my home half marathon. My 2 girls were at the finish and I promised Amelie a medal. 5 miles with a fractured bone maybe wasn’t my best idea.
Now September was here. It’s 5am on a cold wet Inverness morning. Nerves and adrenaline are scrapping each other for superiority in my mind as I get ready to rumble once more. My race number is now stitched on and the remains of my once ginger hair is now pink and matching my vest for Clic sargent.
My own superhero now waves me off as I’m driven to the start line by my marathon buddy of Edinburgh. Only this time I was flying solo. Or so I thought.
The convoy of buses are lined up. Ready to transport a sea of hope to the start line at Fort Augustus. So many bodies with stories to tell through their feet. All there for someone or their own pride.
As my breakfast threatened to ring the starting bell early I sat on the bus. Pulse racing and mind in overdrive. I was taking on more than a marathon. I was fighting my own demons on one of the toughest routes the UK has to offer.
Fate now decided to come and join my corner. Sat at the back of the bus A stranger sat next to me. A broad invernesian accent offered me warmth on a cold dark morning.
We spoke and exchanged tales of why we were here. For the 1st time I opened up. Told a complete stranger all about Kyle and Rachel. Why this wasn’t a marathon to me but my salvation. Someone who didn’t know me yet didn’t judge me and also had a cheeky humour to make a frown smile.
As the start line approached and the bagpipes began to serenade us into battle we said our goodbyes and wished the other luck. The last I would see my new friend Iain. Or so I thought.
This was a race where the tortoise was not going to keep up with a Hare. Iain took the course apart with relative ease whilst I had to dig deep into all my reserves to come home albeit with a Rainbow to carry me there.
And after 4 hours 45 minutes this fight was coming to an end for at least the time being. I had been beaten sometimes by my own self doubt yet a deep resilience would jab back when I needed that little space.
My girls were at the finish line and the emotions of the day poured from every escape route my body had to offer.
Days later and amidst the highs of what had happened one thought had stated with me. A stranger and the kindness shown. Someone to carry a torch for a little while to let my hands rest.
Back at work I recalled the tale to my cousins husband. An Inverness man and told him of my encounter with fates guardian. And then I remembered maybe that moment that defined 5 years. He had a missing tooth. This small insignificant piece of the jigsaw puzzle was to unlock a treasure chest.
Iain just so happens to be a neighbour of my cousins. And the power of social media had connected 2 strangers once again.
September 2015 now called and Green hair was the order of the day. Once again waiting at the bus was my new partner in crime. Instead of stories of old we laughed our way to the start line as others sat in the silence I had felt 12 months earlier.
And for 12 more months it was goodbye at the beginning as the hare powered home.
2016 would come and go and then 2017 would creep up on us. No 4 was special. A stranger no more and now handing me the finest honour on Nessies lair. Iain wore Kyle’s name on his shirt. The 1st man other than his daddy to do so and fitting I could not have asked for a better friend.
Kyle didn’t just carry me home that day, he was the wind in someone else’s sail. I know a little star was proud of his Daddy and his Uncle too.
Sometimes you have to know when the time is right to call it a day. The legs and mind have thrown their last punch from a body that can’t give any more.
As a father and husband I would be letting Kyle down if I ended up off work and unable to provide for his Mum and Sister. That’s the unwanted legacy that I risked If stepped into the ring one more time.
I won’t be at the starting line This year. That still hurts like a sucker punch. However I know a wee boy that will be. Guiding someone we love dearly over that line.
Iain was a stranger that fate decided was too good not to be in my world. The word Friend does not do justice. Someone who is an ear when my day has been sore or a smile when my soul needed warming up. A father and husband who has taught me humility and how to be a better human being for someone else who may need a hand held out.
You are a winner my friend. Not at the finish line or even making the start line. Simply by being you. For the person you are and the inspiration you give to all around you. Your family are testament to this and shine just as bright.
Being honest mate you sealed the deal the second you proclaimed to be a Rangers fan so all of the above was just an added bonus!
Proud beyond words of my sparring partner.
Loch Ness may be famous for its monster. In reality it conquered my demons with a little help from a friend.
What is Blue? A colour? A word? A feeling? Maybe it’s more. To some of us it’s defining. A way of life you are born into rather than choose.
It’s a fire that once ignited can never be extinguished. A love that burns so bright it outshines the milky way. A legacy that infuses from one generation to the next.
Family? A club? It’s both of these combined and some.
A small plastic box invented by a Scotsman beaming the 1st iconic images Into your mind for life. Figures behind a glass screen on the green surface wearing the colours of Royal Blue. The noise captivates you to a point you want to climb through the portal. Miles away from the amphitheatre yet you feel our gladiators thunder into every challenge.
The moment comes. A child in the 90s living 100 miles away and the tickets in your hand. Willy wonka has simply nothing on what this means. A chance to enter the television set and breathe in the atmosphere you crave.
A minibus. Strangers shake hands. Tape cassette player in hand for the journey soon becomes discarded within minutes. You listen and the words start to flow from your mouth. A music and words are in unison with the brain and the older ones are teaching you on the traditions of old.
Halfway pit stop. Refreshments for young and old. And all of a sudden you are within the city boundaries. Familiar landmarks are within sight. The driver hands over a pound for the wee guys to watch the bus and you walk over the cracked pavement slabs. Raising your head to the pounding feet you Join a stream of your own. And then it hits you.
Red bricks gaze down at you from the skyline. Glistening blue gates are within reach. For a maiden voyage it’s clear you have come home. You belong.
The smell of hot food fills the air, programmes are flying off the kiosk, scrambling for that 1st booklet to take home. Ticket in hand you approach the turnstile. Handing over knowing the time has come. Walking up concrete stairs as many a generation have done before.
Daylight creeps towards you and pulls the wide eyes towards the top. Heart racing, pulse flying. Butterflies and air grasps your lungs when the beauty of Ibrox Stadium meets your sight.
Scotch pie and bovril a traditional must. Every crumb devoured as you wait for the sacred time. Icons that were a dream world away now stand just within a snowball throw. As they disappear they are replaced by 4 walls of noise. The songs you were taught just an hour ago are pulling you along a sea of emotion.
Then the beat drops. The words boom and adrenaline now runs through every blue vain.
“I call you when I need you, my hearts on fire”
11 words that signify the beginning of the battle. Gladiators now approaching the arena ready to defend the crest every single spectator wears in their heart.
90 minutes fulfilling a childhood dream years in the making. A sadness that the full time whistle has to make an appearances from the bench. Hoping time would freeze to simply savour an occasion of joy.
Homeward bound. A west end chip shop dinner. Songs and laughs. A day that you never want to end.
Arriving home and words accelerate at the speed of light. Lung bursting to share the joy the day has just gifted you. Cup of tea poured as highlights now grace that little box. It’s simply no longer the same. No matter what angle it offers you or close up it provides it’s simply never going to be the same again.
Year’s come and go. Destiny allows you to witness history. The greatest showman was invented long before the movie. Mavericks would grace the hallowed turf before your very eyes. Genius belonged to the Oxford dictionary filed under Gascoigne. The Clyde had a smile only Mccoist could match. A great Dane conquered the country named Brian. Silver routinely plundered from the ailing hands of the conquered teams. Opposition deflated as soon as the team sheet roared out such names.
And then time caught up. Life took me away to another family called the Royal Air Force. Absence made a heart grow beyond fonder. That small electrical box became my best friend. Never more so when stationed at the Falkland Islands in the South Atlantic. Colours proudly worn. Thousand of miles from 2 homes yet projected onto the glass stood the giants I adored. The warriors in the stands representing all of their brothers and sisters in spirit. Heart pounding and palms sweating as they did all those moons ago. Hoping when we scored my cheer would be carried by the wind to join in.
More years would pass. So much change. A wife, 2 children, one in heaven and one on earth. One thing remained a constant. The family of blue and the love she gave us.
Titles would come and go. A man named Kyle would come to life every May on my boys heavenly birthday who shared his name. A club giving me more than I could ever give her in return.
2012 came. A nuclear blast to every bear trying to destroy all in its path.
You cannot and will not ever beat an institution iconic as Rangers FC. Players, fans, managers, owners and shysters will come and go. Our family will stand long after all of us depart this earth and some more.
We watched others take kicks. Wounded and on Our knees. Medicine taken. Healing slowly. 6 long years of prolonged attacks from outside and within. The Blue family held firm. Sandy led the battle cry with Super himself. As we were on life support with the switch shielded.
Finally 2018. This great Phoenix pulled herself from the ashes as a leader took her reigns. Unflinching at the task ahead we had a superstar at the helm. For the 1st time in years the gloves were off. Someone who simply got who we were. Understood our history. Set standards befitting of past custodians such as Mr Struth, Symon and Smith. A prince knowing he had the full support of his King.
30th August came the day the Banter years war ended. The scars could finally begin to heal. After matches on the continent we had negotiated the final last stand in a fashion rourkes drift would have been proud of in the trenches of an Eastern front.
Rangers were back. A European competition that years ago was in the eyes of many a consolation was now a holy grail. When you spend decades on Everest it’s humbling when you end up at sea level for so long. So when you eventually make it as far as Kilimanjaro you rejoice. It’s not the pinnacle but compared to recent history you are skipping along Saturn’s rings towards Mars.
The tide is turning. May not happen tomorrow. May take a year or Maybe 2
Now I have passed the baton to my very own next generation Bearette. Our club allowed a season ticket in the name of my Son so he can always sit with his sister. A touch of absolute class that means the world. In turn my wee lads seat is now gifted to allow further new generation of bears to come home.
A family that allowed my daughter to grace the hallowed turf and lead out our team. Remembrance weekend. A tear was shed as I watched my girl partake in A minute silence for our fallen. Destiny had given a gift of beauty. Seeing my child live both our dreams. Pride I cannot begin to describe as a former serviceman and Dad.
If anyone reading this was an 80s kid or before, then Doc and Marty were part of your life back then. Simple as that.
For anyone who hasn’t been fortunate enough I will try and give a new twist without ruining any plots.
In my 35 years it’s been an utter rollercoaster of every emotion that the fairground of fate can throw at you.
Since turning 26 everything in my future was being mapped before my very eyes. A force you cannot see yet runs through every vein would begin laying a sat nav in my mind that my body could never override.
May 2009 was when everything began to reprograme. 26. Just married and the world awaiting.
I was going to live my own equivalent of the American dream. Raise a family of many kids and live an idealic life. And why not? So many others I knew did So. And as for any hazards in the road? Until now it had always been other cars swerving off life’s highway as mine cruised along at comfort.
The Day my first born arrived. The 2nd part of the grand plan. The day the roadmap was chewed up by fate and discarded in the dustbin of broken dreams. Yet as I discovered later, a Phoenix cab rise from ashes.
My Son Kyle. Beautiful. Just simply perfect. Beautiful red lips and soft hair. Tiny hands with immaculate shiny nails. A button nose and a scent of love. I cuddled all night. 12 precious hours when time for me did stop. Our room in the labour ward was out very own Delorean.
As with all cars though they can’t run forever. And those previous seconds began to lose to mother nature as the sun urged the moon to get some rest. Her guardianship was done and it was time for the light to take over.
As I said precious goodbyes to my Son I promised he would be honoured. Stalling I looked at the beams striking through the window that now lit up my hands. Praying for the engine to start up so I could go back. To relive those hours or further to stop it happening. The key simply would not turn. This road was at an end. However a new one would lie not far away.
Life now controlled me. For the first time it was in control of my Destiny rather than myself. I went from driving the most powerful car in my mind to being trapped in a seatbelt as my journey was In danger of veering over cliffs of agony.
In the coming weeks I woke up. Managed to wrestle my mind free from the shackles keeping it down. The handbrake was applied as I Now teetered on the brink. The options were stark. Release my grip and fall into darkness where I may never return. Or nudge Into reverse. Take precious steps backwards in order to make my world .I’ve forward again.
Oh how I considers letting the brake go. A simple motion to let go of burning pain and rejoin with the most precious 12 hours that I could not get my time machine to give me.
A voice told me no. Hope rose from the ruins and reminded me in had made a promise. A fathers promise.
And so the car was now safely parked up in the garage of destiny for now. Allowing me to dig my own road out of the rubble and rejoin the highway I should be on.
The coming year were kind. The car had settled and I was now driving on a shiny new highway. Life had offered an olive branch. Our daughter was here. Someone so small with healing powers beyond any rational explanation. I was learning how to function again as the human I wanted to be. I had reprogrammed to allow myself to smile once more.
Comfortable maybe I sped up a little too soon. Took for granted the smooth surface and did not see the gaping crater that lay ahead. It was too late. Cancer had introduced itself to our life and was the unwanted guest that attached to our family.
The car lay badly damaged as going forward was simply not an option. Darkness and alone on a road with no lights or sign of hope. All we could do was pray. The storm came in and for the coming months battered our souls as we clung onto our family unit with every ounce of fight we had left.
Finally on Kyle’s 5th birthday the storm passed. His mummy summoned all her courage to kick out our unwanted guest and she was in remission.
Scarred we managed to be towed home. Broken to a point of not knowing if this journey would continue never mind where it was going.
That was when Destiny arrived. That Phoenix of hope. Reminding us of who we are and our family.
We crawled over the shards of pain and pulled our socks up. 6 marathons would follow as well as volunteering for charity. By this point we had a new car. The old one was a painful reminder of what had been. The new one had a new sat nav. A silent programme that gave us the chance to make wrong turn yet find a route back to salvation.
And so came the Outlander effect. Fate would bring many special people into our lives. Our paths woudl cross and they crossed for a reason.
There are too many to name but I will try a few. Susan, Andrew, Jenni, Andrea, Robert, Leanne and Barry.
Similar to Jamie and Claire being drawn by a force they could not explain. We had been drawn to meet some amazing people. We had joined a club no one ever wished to join. Yet now we were exclusive members we wished no one else to come on board. If they did we offered love and care as had been offered to us.
It wasn’t a case of standing stones transporting us back in time. It was more than that. The sands of time and the stars aligned to create a jigsaw. A jigsaw carefully crafted by tiny hands placing their parents together. Creating a bond that would see them conquer pain together than face anything alone.
Twists of fate or the Outlander effect would keep occurring. Bringing opportunity and new beginnings into all of our lives. Paths crossing in a lifetime where the seeds had been planted generations before. Now the flower were in bloom that our bloodlines had carefully nestled all those moons ago.
The Delorean is repaired. If I ever want to go for a spin I simply switch the engine of my dreams and we are a way. Revisiting a time of immense pain yet pride whenever the calling comes.
The Phoenix continues to fly. Hailing pain from the flames and constructing hope in its place. As long as we are able to wake up and live her wings Will glide. To be the voice our children honour us to carry allows her to live as them.
Maybe the stones will one day reveal themselves. Maybe I’m free not knowing and able to make choices with a fresh mind.
One thing for certain is we all know what has happened in the past. We don’t know what’s in our future but we can shape it by choosing whatever road we take.
As someone once said “Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads….”
Some words to describe my love for a beautiful Marathon that has captured my heart 4 years in a row.
ADaddy’sRace
The horizon is now so close you can see
A line to cross that sets you free
Hearts beat fast and palms sweating so
As the starting gun tells you it’s time to go
Lungs now grasp the Highalnd air
As you meander the start of Nessie’s lair
Thousands of feet in unison they go
To the beat of bagpipes that drives us so
Conquering those 1st daunting slopes
Not quite yet on the boxing ropes.
At last the vast chasm of blue is in sight
Enchanted home of Nessie in light
Captivated by her beautiful view
Forgetting the pain creeping up on you
And before you know it halfway is here
As you bounce to the musical beat in your ear
The hills encourage you to conquer their power
As the minutes start to run away into the hours
Sometimes a walk is as strong as a run
Telling yourself this is meant to be fun
So close to the end yet so far away
Digging deep for any strength you saved
You look at the shirt proudly on your chest
Whispering to yourself I know I’m the best
The legs now had over the baton to the mind
Summoning all the courage you can find.
Ignoring the pain as you see the end is within grasp
Holding onto the love of that one you dearly clasp
Strangers in the street now become friends
Urging you to fight until the very end.
When you think your body wants to give in
The Sound of your boys name ignites you within.
A final push and the goal can be seen
As your inner Olympian strides onto the green
A medal awaits and sparkles with glee
As the river of tears now come to be
6 times I have given my all
Trying to stand 10 foot tall
I know you were with me every step we did roam
Holding my hand and guiding me home
What an honour to run with my boy
As you have given me such endless joy
And now the baton must be passed to another
As Amelie will continue to honour her brother
Perfection. Something we all strive for. Whether it be an athlete in their prime going for Gold to a parent working every hour under the Sun to provide for a little mouth.
This is about not one person but a collective. I’m going to write about our NHS and give a very raw and honest view on something most of us take for granted.
As stated this will be honest. And I don’t wish to offend anyone. I have many family members and friends in the health service and I hope this does them justice.
2008. 25 years old and just married. The world was literally my oyster. Feet firmly back on the ground after 8 years serving In the Royal Air Force and ready for a new beginning. One cold winter morning my life took a new turn. We were going to become parents. I was about to be responsible for life on this earth and it bloody terrified me.
This story begins pretty much on that day. Rachel had morning sickness. And it simply never went away. Days passed and as it got worse, the pregnancy went on. Early stages I sensed something wasn’t right. We spent many appointments at the Doctor as Rachel wasn’t keeping fluids and the baby had reduced movement. The famous line “you just have a lazy baby” first appeared. It has haunted me ever since.
Weeks passed and things were still not good. 28 weeks pregnant and another hospital trip. The baby’s heart was distressed and my world lay on a hospital bed with a drip. Steroids injected to prepare for delivery the next day of my 1st born child. only for the consultant to change his mind.
We were sent for a detailed scan the next morning that lasted a matter of seconds. Discarded with another lazy baby line and the feeling of being a nuisance. I had seen and had enough. I decided to plead out of desperation.
A heartfelt letter in the form of electronic mail was typed out that evening and duly sent to my local MSP who was our health minister at the time. My 1st act as a Father was to plead that my wife and child were at risk as no one would listen to me. I was met with silence then a standard reply. Frustration got the better of what I thought was a rational mind.
Bank holiday weekend May 2009. The week that changed my life and defined me as a human being, husband and Father.
A beautiful sunny day needed with another trip to the same hospital with our lazy baby. The nurses went through same routine. Doppler. Find heart beat, reassure us, we feel wasting precious time and sent on our way. That was how it has been. That was how it was meant to be. Waiting. Seconds felt like hours as no heartbeat was found. My head was telling my heart the machine was faulty and normal service would resume imminently.
As my wife became agitated my heart spoke up above the background noise of sanity. I knew we now had an angel. The nurse to her credit kept professional although I could see the panic in her eyes. Now a consultant wheeled through with an ultrasound and he was the same one who sent us home 2 weeks previous. As the screen failed to show the beat we prayed for I saw that little angelic face asleep.
The consultant at that moment looked a broken man. As it was back holiday and no 2nd Dr to verify the death we were sent home and told to come back in the morning. We spent our final night As we thought as a 3 in the wee flat in Minard road , shawlands that we called home. I think enough tears flowed that night to fill a river.
We reported back and had to endure another scan to confirm what we knew. Again broken we are sent home for 2nd time and booked back in for the following day to meet our Angel.
6th May 2009
The day part of me died. Sat in a Labour ward watching Chelsea lose to Barcelona in a champions league semi final to a last minute Andres Iniesta goal. Amazing what stays with you years on. A game of football. Maybe ironically the day it became to me simply a game of football. After that day no result of 22 men kicking a ball about would make me upset as maybe previously.
23:38 was the time the world said a brief hello and goodnight to our sweet Angel. Our baby Boy. Beautiful in every way. Red lips and gorgeous little hands. We named him Kyle, after the family name of Rachel’s grandmother. Jean was the most caring human being I ever had the privilege to meet. Sharing her name would be fitting for our Son. I know they are together now and smiling down.
His mummy done so well and slept As I took over guardianship. All night I cuddled our boy. I clasped his little fingers and in my finest Dad voice sung him lullaby’s as the moon handed over the sands of time to the Sun.
We encountered 2 midwives. Michelle and Connie. In the midst of our pain I owe them a lifetime of gratitude for the care shown.
When the time came to say goodbye and hand Kyle over to Michelle it broke me. I kissed him goodnight one last time and made him a vow I would honour his name. Something I have dedicated 10 years to.
Back home the plastic keys became fired up and another emotional email departed my screen. Proclaiming I had warned a tragedy was coming and could have been avoided as my Son was Still-born. The next day a reply arrived from a secretary. It warmly congratulated me on the arrival of my Son. I cried. Anger lasted only seconds because no human being could be so cold. They had misunderstood my email. I simply replied that my Son had died. Email sent and the last one I had. I forgave them.
Days later I received a phone call from someone from Greater Glasgow health board apologising profoundly.
In the coming days Kyle was laid to rest under the shadow of Ben Nevis. Our hometown in Fort William. Fate would bring us home in the coming years.
Minard road. The flat felt cold even though summer. Life was a chill. Shattered we tried to pick up the pieces of our broken lives. Not even a year married and we had fallen to the depths of despair with no light in sight.
A letter arrives and we are summoned to the hospital. Post mortem results are in. Petrified we make the journey over for the 1st time and nausea took over every sensation.
My wife is asked for a sample and I had to keep my cool and point to the small teardrop on her notes. Mortified we are ushered to sit amongst all the heavily pregnant woman. Vibrating and trying not to break I could see my wife’s pain visibly. A junior Dr ushers us into a room as our consultant was on holiday. After briefly scanning the notes we were Informed that no cause of death was found. Just one of those things.
Half of me was devastated yet relieved as I blamed myself. We quietly slipped away to try an rebuild what remained of any hope we had left.
Rainbows were always significant. We were guided home by a guardian of Rainbows when going to lay Kyle to rest. They have been with us ever since.
We decided to try again and after a matter of weeks we had another life changing moment. When a blue line yells you life is on its way. Our daughter was due. We shared the news with Kyle’s Granny who text back a double rainbow above Ben Nevis.
Excitement turned to dread when we had a letter drop in post. Another small piece of paper that caused paralysis of fear. Your post mortem results are here. Please come to discuss. Thinking it’s a major blunder or a sick joke I phone the hospital. It wasn’t a joke. Not all Kyle’s results were in and the original letter was sent in error. Error did not seem appropriate.
We drive back over and the 2 miles or so feel like 200. A clearly nervous consultant meets us at the reception and immediately ushers us to his room a level above where our misery took place previous. We explain what took place and he is horrified. We are then broken the news that Kyle’s placenta clotted. My healing heart was again shattered feeling I had failed my precious boy.
.
We then dropped the bombshell that Rachel was expecting again. To his credit he assured us we would be looked after.
And so began our next chapter. Daily blood thinking injections followed by a scan every 2 weeks. We were being given vip treatment and at 20 weeks I officially met my daughter on the small screen that had haunted my dreams for months prior. I cried and cried.
Drama followed with hospital admissions with Noro virus as well as gastroenteritis causing a blue light trip fearing a miscarriage. Our wee miracle was alive and kicking.
March 5th 2010 was the day my heart began to mend. Amelie Ellen Jennifer McGuire entered the world. Unconditional love from the 1st seconds to eternity.
Years now pass and our bad luck was over. We were rebuilding. Bought our 1st home. Life was good again. Fate however had other ideas.
Another hospital trip and a small concern. Something wasn’t right. Then we heard the phrase “ you are too young for cervical cancer”.
Our GP pushed though and sadly a biopsy revealed our worst fears. My beautiful wife was battling cancer aged only 26. Why why why?
The coming weeks and months were a blur. Chemotherapy and radiotherapy took their toll and the bravest woman I know was battling harder than ever before. Keeping it secret from our the 3 year old as she was too young. 6 weeks being separated by 70 miles battered our family. Saying Mummy was at work. Sick and weak yet phoning home every night to read Amelie a bedtime story. That to me was the definition of heroism.
In-between C-Diff infections and Intensive care I was terrified. My own mental health was crumbling in the background.
I did My best to travel up to Inverness as much as possible whilst keeping a job and being a Dad. I have never been so tired mentally yet ashamed as I was not the one suffering.
After weeks in hospital, Amelie got her mummy home. Our Doctors and nurses had saved her life. We had nights where they let me sleep over as she was so sick. Fed me as I was on my knees and gave me their own staff tea cup when I needed a cuppa and a cuddle. Lorna, Sharon and various others at Belford hospital in particular have my gratitude behind what I can type here.
And on Kyle’s 5th birthday in 2014 we Got the news his mummy was in remission along with a rainbow. Fate was now playing ball. As well as Rachel winning the Mum of the year.
Now back to the VHS and hitting fast forward to 2016. Surely fate would be on a permanent vacation? No. This time our daughter was In the firing line. Small red blotches got bigger and caused alarm. My wee lamb had been diagnosed with psoriasis aged 6.
As she got worse we waited on seeing a specialist and after weeks and weeks I snapper almost like I had trying to protect Kyle all those years ago. This time I wasn’t failing. I called the hospital and spoke to dermatology dept. Horrified I was told Amelie was weeks away from an appointment as she was marked as routine. I pleaded and sent over photos of what this immune disease was doing. A prayer was answered when they wanted us to go up immediately.
And so followed 12.months of hospital trips on 8 week blocks. 4am starts to be back for school for the sake of a 10 second treatment. We had a team of nurses behind dedicated. Sandra in particular was amazing. A selfless woman who opened up early for us to allow us to get home on time for school and allow me to work my shifts.
Sandra only flaw was she didn’t support the same football team. She was Inverness Caley daft. So on Amelie’s last treatment in August 2017 her Daddy never walked her in. Instead Sandra’s grandson and the captain of Inverness Caley waltzed in with flowers and complimentary director’s box tickets. Our small thank you to an amazing human being that we are proud to call your friend. Many years that day of joy.
2018 and Amelie skin has been clear almost 12 months. Light at the end of the tunnel at last.
To summarize the last 10 years in a short blog. Days of despair. Nights of sometimes anger and tears. We are all human. Could some things have been done differently? Absolutely.
I don’t blame anyone for Kyle’s death. I did hold one person responsible and I have learnt to let it go. I no longer blame myself after almost 10 years.
At the time pain only made me see negatives when the bigger picture was not in clear sight. Could I be a professional and work seeing babies live or die every day? Absolutely not. Like a spoilt brat I took our health service for granted. It’s something to be cherished.
To the nurses who cared for my Son and our family in the time we needed them.
To the various staff who cared and brought our daughter into the world.
To our own GP for the speedy referral and the staff of Raigmore hospital and Belford hospital. Without your care my daughter would not have a mummy.
To the nurses who taped my feet up. Seeing my broken heart failing a west highland way walk in Kyle’s memory you fixed me enough to run my 4th Marathon in his name.
To the dermatology department at Raigmore for the love and dedication and care they not only gave Amelie but to myself when I became distressed seeing my baby girl in pain.
To the nurses in our family who make me immensely proud of everything you do for others. Mhairi, Eilidh, Alison, Jane and Rhanna you are inspirational.
For all of the above I give you my thanks from the bottom of my heart.
To my old MSP at the time, Nicola Sturgeon First Minister I thank you also. Your health service is why my family is still together. As a Father I did what I thought was best for my child. I hope you understand my frustrations at the time we’re a cry for help from someone who was staring into the abyss.
Our NHS is Imperfect yet completely Irreplaceable.
Sunday evening. Chilled on Sofa before the inevitable return to the reality of a Monday morning. Calm and relaxed until the flicker of a scene change on the TV. Gone is the tranquil paradise my mind was bathing in and replaced by a tsunami of anguish crashing against my egg shelled barrier.
Still-birth.
A simple hyphenated word that carries all the weight of the Oxford Dictionary and more.
A phrase that is Taboo. Some will never discuss. I’m going to.
A term that sadly takes a life to the Angels as well as part of the living. In the space of 3 days of knowing our Angel was asleep to having my first cuddle I went from carefree to broken. 26 years old and 1st year of Marriage with a new child was a dream that quickly became a nightmare. Part of me died that day I will never get back.
As a father, society had other ideas. I led the line of being strong. I was the captain at a time where despair was firing cross after cross of pain at my goals. Even if I had 10 pairs if hands I could only save so many.
Many well wishers would stop me and ask how my wife was. Something I was very grateful for. Not many would ask for me. And why would they? I never gave birth so it’s understandable. Well it was at the time.
To fast forward I lay my little boy to rest on a perfect spring day under the shadow of Ben Nevis. A day where my defence held firm as my heart faced a barrage of emotion. Sometimes to win you have to concede.
When you are at Rock bottom you cannot sink any lower. A pit of darkness where you seek a ladder or a glimmer of light to climb out. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what method it will be delivered. You pray .
This passage is a thank you to the Club I love. It’s fans and the warmth they gave me in my hour of need.
And so came my first rung of the ladder. A wet and miserable 9th of May 2009. 3 days after our Angel fell asleep. Steven Davis scored what would set my beloved Rangers on their way to the championship. Tearfully I watched with my Celtic supporting Dad and felt the 1st hope fill my soul.
May 24th 2009 was the day Rangers clinched a 1st title in 4 years. And the 1st scorer? A Mr Kyle Lafferty. It felt like a heavenly intervention when I needed it most.
Wearily I clung onto the new found hope that had been dangled before my eyes. A new season approached along with the news that my Daughter would be born the following March. Years to follow would link my daughter to the club we love.
April 25th 2010. Amelie was 6 weeks old and another title winning day. Kyle once again would be the name. Whisper it but I was smiling. A new born daughter and an Angel giving his Dad joy.
Another year forward and you guessed it. Another title with my boys namesake delivering once more. No one would dare tell me this was anything other than a miracle. In a way it was because it started to play a part in healing my broken soul.
2012 and the year things dipped. No title and no Kyle. The riches of the last 3 years were gone and replaced by the ruins of a club on its knees. Strangely I wasn’t despaired. I had been on a journey to the bottom of the sea before. I knew this would get better. I had a renewed hope of seasons gone by.
Fate had brought me back to earth with a bump the years that followed. Seeing my wife battle cancer had me thrown back into that pit. Darkness was swallowing me and I didn’t know if I had much fight left. The feeling of punishment by hurting those I loved instead of me slowly bled me dry. My mental health became fractured and a quick fix was no longer possible.
May 2014. Another title as Rangers climbed the divisions. But a lottery win as Rachel went into remission on Kyle’s 5th birthday. The pendulum of fate was swinging back towards joy.
The once burst ball was now inflated again. 2016 arrived with myself and my little girl now season ticket holders at the club we loved. Psoriasis by now had caused my wee lamb anguish. Yet she taught me how to fight back. Never once complaining of her treatment. A warrior she was.
October 2016 was a day Rangers gave me something special. They invited my daughter to be mascot on the day of remembrance weekend. As ex Royal Air Force it was a moment of sheer pride. Seeing my little girl march out onto the field with the boys in Royal Blue was a sight to behold.
And when I added a 2nd Season ticket so Amelie could take a friend the club gave another touch of class. They allowed Kyle’s name to go on the ticket so he has a seat next to his sister. A small gesture to some yet mammoth to me.
This club has given me new friends. From Angel parents to old friends not seen in years. In turn one being Steven Clifford and seeing the following of over 20k people his website has attracted. Great to see good people prosper.
I have an immense debt of gratitude to the Rangers family.
I write this as a Father who loves his family always and has a passion for the beautiful game. Rangers are my club and I have nothing but respect for anyone who feels the same for their own no matter the colours. Kyle Lafferty will always be one of My favourite players because whether he ever knows it, he played a part in my recovery when I could not see one.
This is just a small example of how football helped save my life.
I wish everyone regardless of colours nothing but best wishes. I have been on the edge and would never wish anyone to experience that.
You can choose your friend’s and not your family. A famous old saying that many of us would have used at some point in our lives. However, what if your Family of Friends could choose you?
I write a lot about my only Son, Kyle who gained his wings in 2009 sadly still-born. Speaking of Kyle over the last 9 years has been an emotional roller-coaster. From highs of marathon runs and hearing Kyle’s name spoken in our parliament to lows of utter dejection every passing day he isn’t with his Mum, Dad and Sister.
Losing Kyle changed our lives. From my own perspective it changed me as a person, husband and Father. I have my Boy to thank but also a 2nd family.
I became part of something rather special. I met others who had sadly walked in our shoes and they welcomed me with open arms into this new world I was so scared to enter. Over the last few years I have grown to care about and love these people as my own family. When grief still lingers and catches you on a bad day, I know I can count on the water to be as thickened as the blood. A voice at the end of a phone. Words at the end of a keyboard. Friends who are literally there at all hours of the day.
As you grow within the family you find yourself becoming immersed. You now extend your own hand to welcome new members at the Infancy stage you were at what only feels like 5 minutes ago.
You cannot promise them everything will be ok. But if a storm is bearing down, you will assure them you are facing it together.
That to me is the definition of Family.
However….. A small part of me would have gladly given all of this up. I yearned to have a day where I never knew of any of these wonderful people. Hoping to wake up from life’s nightmare and pass them by in the street as the strangers they should have been. To return to an ignorance that once existed blissfully within.
Then my heart tells me that destiny sketched our paths to cross. The cards of fate have been dealt and I simply cannot give them back to the dealer above.
I wouldn’t have met Eilidh-Beth and Alex’s Mummy and Daddy who I hold so dear. The same applies to Theo & Jay who brought their Mummy into my world. Also for Ben and Sofia to name just a few of the special Angels that defined my world.
We have a bond. It’s something you cannot explain unless you have climbed into the gaping shoes we have infused to our feet in order to walk as Angel parents. Collectively we have attempted to turn tragedy into triumph. To be the voice our children sadly could not have. To live their hope in the belief that their name will make a difference to this world.
I will be forever proud of the day I heard Kyle’s name spoken in our Scottish Parliament. To see our Governments pass legislation to help ease the burden at a time the lights have simply gone out in your life. To see our Boy be part of that. Beyond proud that his little footprints have joined many others in leaving a lasting impression. A legacy.
I have said before and stand by my belief that what is for you won’t go past you.
In this case a family did not pass by. They stopped the car and squeezed over to make room for a soul wandering a highway of pain, not knowing what road to take.
You are my family and for that I will forever be grateful. The journey has only just begun.
Give up. 2 words that have played in my head on repeat so many times over the last 9 years. A broken record that can never be saved as it crackles on repeat day after day.
Many times it would have been easier to throw in the towel as my mental health bounced off the ropes, each time saved by the bell in every round.
Life would throw haymakers and I could only block them for so long. Cruel blow after blow would rain down and eventually I would fall. What felt like a skydive without a parachute as my mind sinks deeper into an abyss of pain.
May 6th 2009 my world became a warzone. I was pulled into a fight I never saw coming. A conflict between my Mind and soul and there had to be 1 winner.
Round 1 and I’m lying on the deck. Losing our only son and it’s floored me. Looking up and questioning if there is any point getting back up? Maybe I could stay here and the pain will be gone. And as quick as a flash the bell goes. My wife is in my corner and has lifted me from the floor to ride out this storm.
I’m back up and ready to carry on. Sluggish and not the person I was before the 1st bell sounded. The next few rounds last year’s but feel like minutes. My fists are wrapped in Marathons as my running shoes keep me out of reach for now. I’m still in this fight and starting to settle.
Round 5 and this time I’m out cold. The blow of my wife’s cancer has put me on my knees. My eyes are welling up as the pain has ramped up by miles. Now I know I’m not the only one in this fight and need to pull myself up. This time Amelie my beautiful daughter is the one that has lifted my head up. She hands me my Superman cape at the bell and I fly out of the traps for round 6.
By this time Rachel is in my corner and her super strength is transferring over. We are throwing punches left right and centre and powering back into the game. This isn’t over by a long shot and the world knows she is now in a battle.
Life isn’t giving up. She lands some more knockouts . I’m tired and not sure I can take any more pain. The towel is staring at me and I’m looking for someone to throw it. I’m broken and my tears are escaping a body that has trapped them for so long. The towel could end all of that and simply let go. One motion and my pain. would be over. I’m looking over again and I see familiar faces. They won’t allow me to give up. My wife, daughter are there. And alongside them now I’m have Susan and my SiMBA family urging me to fight back.
I’m dragging myself off the ice cold floor of fear to enter the final round. A fire now burns deep inside that thaws the pain. I’m using positive energy to hit back. Belief that we can be part of something special and make a change now are wrapped in my gloves. Hope now glows and has me back on my feet. One last swing and it’s there. Life’s cruelty is lying on the ground. An injustice has been floored with the love of a thousand friends.
And the bell sounds. It’s over. Darkness flees into the night As hope shines through once more. Victory snatched from the jaws of a certain defeat. A corner of love that carry you on their shoulders as They have done all through the fight. A world champion for a day but a winner forever.
1 battle has been won although many more await. As long as my corner has the people I love and care about then any fight will be taken head on.
30th May 2018. That’s your day Kyle. For all our Angels.
This is all about kindness. A world where something small can snowball into an avalanche of adventure.
Many a time I have watched movies growing up with wonder. Asking what if? Where would I be if I had not done this or that? Almost like a real life version fantasizing of Back to the future.
Now on a personal level there have been so many questions over the years of what if? Such as what if I had never joined the Royal Air Force? Where would I be now? Or what if I had stayed? what if I hadn’t visited home that weekend in 2006 I met my future wife?
Now the reason I have always asked such questions will become clear. I am 35, married 10 years this October to Rachel. We have 2 children as most well know, An Angel in heaven named Kyle and an Angel on Earth named Amelie.
I always wondered why fate had dealt such cards. For years It prayed on my mind. If only I had done something different. Would it have saved Kyle? Could I have prevented Rachel’s cancer? Almost to a point of obsession burrowing away with her doubtful claws into the chasm of my confused mind.
For long enough it was a mental battle of “what if” riding over the top of my sanity with banners overhead declaring I had screwed up. If only I had not come home that weekend Rachel could have had a better life. If only I had insisted Kyle be delivered at 28 weeks he may have had a chance. Every time I questioned myself the knife In my heart would take another twist.
20th May 2018. Maybe the day What if finally retreated as Thank You stormed from the trenches of my brains battleground to fight back.
Today was the day that Kindness shone a torch so bright that it destroyed the dark wasteland that threatened to overthrow my hope.
When someone thanks you for something you perceive as small yet it carries your Sons memory in helping others.
When someone so famous on Broadway gives their time to chat and In turn they meet someone you admire and respect to give them their time to make them smile.
Today “Thank you” won the war.
Thank you for the day I Joined the Royal Air Force and the 8 years of incredible friendships she gave me.
Thank you for the weekend I came home and met the most incredible person who shaped my world.
Thank you for giving me the most special Son who brought me the SiMBA family. A charity of love and admiration whose children have brought us together. People I have laughed and cried with. Held hands and been there for each other.
Thank you for giving me a daughter who simply rocks our world. A child through her own torment of psoriasis has made her strong and caring beyond words. A beautiful human being who carries humility like No other.
So many days where the Night refused to allow the sun to rise. So many nights where even the Moon was afraid to show her face.
A glass not half full but cracked and leaking to a drought at the bottom has now been replaced with a reservoir of hope. Having handled the burning cards of fate and returning them extinguished by a force of belief and love.
I can’t change my past. And now should Marty and Doc rock up with that Delorean I once craved as my holy grail I know exactly what to do. I would pull over and allow them to pass me rather than allow my life to. I have had my days of sadness, where tears flowed faster than Niagara falls. It’s not easy but Everest has been conquered although the Moon is yet to be taken.
I have a family of love so rich that I’m a Billionaire in comparison to what I once was.
So to “what if” you are consigned to the past. For “Thank you” it’s a journey that will continue to set out roads in all directions of our future.
4 simple words. However it has taken almost 9 years for them to come out.
9 years ago when my little Boy was born asleep, I began to lose my speech. Society deemed as a Father I had to be strong. In order for me to function and possess the required strength inside, my words had to take a back seat.
As a bereaved Father, at times I was cast aside. Disregarded. Men don’t cry. They are meant to be big and strong. As the world expected this persona I began to adopt it. First of all I wore a glass smile. Inside I was broken, grieving silently for the child I was never going to watch grow up whilst pretending to the world I was ok.
Human interaction once so normal now became rocket science. Some would stop me in the street to ask how my wife was doing? Rarely would anyone ask after my own welfare. I never held this against anyone as I was also being programmed in this way too by the stigmatic computer society had plugged me into. Second way was some would cross the street to avoid you. The first time I felt like a walking leper. Again this was entirely rational and I carried on functioning. Maybe I was the problem.
Still -birth has been a taboo subject for too long. With every passing day I grew restless. My Son was real. I held his hand, cradled him and sang him a lullaby. My inner strength grew and so did my voice. Raising awareness was going to become my goal. I had to fight.
Kyle’s story slowly came out to the world. I took on marathons and my feet then powered up my vocal chords who instructed my hands to put them into print.
This carried on even after the birth of my Daughter. I now had another enemy attacking my mind, Fear.
I lived in constant fear. It wrapped around my neck so tight I could not breathe let alone talk. Fear would sit in the corner of every room reminding me although I had a life in my arms so precious , they could snatch at any moment. All I wanted was to Chase it away. I tried to fight back although Fear was smart. It had infected my mind-set that they would take my daughter away if anyone suspected my sadness. The only solution was for me to accept who I was. Silently cry when the world could not see me.
I carried on as a prisoner of my own mind for the next few years. Then in 2013 when Rachel was diagnosed with Cancer, my sentence was Increased. As previously told, my superman cape was back on. I carried on as society instructed and managed to sneak tears whenever the guards of fear were not looking from their watch-tower in my head.
As Rachel beat that evil illness something had changed. Fear had retreated. It had caused carnage in my mind during the war we had fought over the years. Now the only companion I had known was leaving town. Having a blank mind was worse than the battles that had gone on before. The dam was cracking and the flow of emotion was gushing into my soul faster than every wave of the Atlantic.
I simply cried. Fear wasn’t there to patrol any more. Most days I was fine as could be. Then without warning the tsunami would strike. Paralysed, my heart would sink and my eyes would leak. Sometimes in places I never wanted it to be seen let alone in front of others. In a way my programme was malfunctioning and I did not have the expertise to fix it.
Running did become my salvation. It was something I could control. My own body would determine when my feet stopped. It kept my mind full of focus as much as possible and this plugged the leaks in my very own dam. Wearing Kyle’s name and raising awareness kept the lights on as the medals racked up.
The day came where I could not carry on being someone else. There are only so many times a temporary repair will hold. Almost like trying to blu-tac gaps in the Hoover dam.
My heart took up the fight back. She led from the front as I battled to find myself in the ruins of my life. My hands chose the pen over the sword and this did indeed prove to be mightier. The pendulum was beginning to swing back. Belief then weighed in on the action with a battalion of love.
I accept who I was. I am a bereaved Father who for years bottled every ounce of grief I had and floated it away as far as possible from my own mind-set.
Now I have retrieved the bottle. Swimming the length of the psychological Nile to grasp it back. It’s been smashed open and my feelings are allowed to flow freely.
I take no greater pride than when raising awareness or volunteering for a charity I love. However I now have a new ability. When my tsunami warning system is activated I step back. The storm still has to pass, however I don’t need to face it full on anymore. I have a network of people I love. From my wife to the dearest friends I could ever wish to have.
Love and understanding have arrived. Pushing those trapped words back to the surface. Not accepting anything as taboo but realistic enough to know I don’t need to fight anything alone.
It will never be acceptable to some. There will be those who will laugh and question why a man writes as I do. It’s who I am now and I will not change for a society that cast me aside. Maybe it’s they who need to change.
My Grandmother once told 2 things that have served me well all my life.
1. What is for you won’t go past you.
2. No matter what, there is always someone worse off than you are.
2 pieces of advice that I now swear by.
One thing I have always believed in is to try and see the positives no matter the negatives. Some may call this naive however it’s always down to the individual. I will never change who I am. My glass will always be half full.
After losing Kyle, we took the decision he would be laid to rest looking over Ben Nevis in Fort William, our family home. Although residing in Glasgow we just knew this was right in our hearts. A wise call as we moved home just 1 year later.
We travelled home from Glasgow to give our lad the final journey he deserved. Amidst our sadness, as soon as we departed Glasgow we were given a heavenly escort home. Rainbow after Rainbow lined the sky as we headed North. The colours reaching out and warming our frozen and broken hearts. The healing process was beginning and yet we never knew. This was the 1st time we saw Rainbows as our symbol of hope.
Soon after, we received some news that would also go some way to rebuilding our shattered lives. It was July 2009 and we were expecting our 2nd child. Nervously we only told a close handful of people. Upon telling our parents we got a text reply. A double Rainbow in the sky. A sign of hope.
Christmas 2009 and we arrive home in Fort William on a snow covered morning. What happened next I still cannot do justice with words. A small Robin hops onto Kyle’s headstone. Then jumps onto his toys. Rachel and I with baby bump watch in awe. Then the little Robin lands on my foot and just sits there for want felt an eternity before saying goodbye. I have never felt such warmth in my life surrounded by the freezing cold winter. Tears fell in amazement as the smallest creature gave the largest hug.
We took this as our sign that everything will be ok. And on March 2010 we welcomed our daughter Amelie into the world. Love was teaching us to smile again.
Now fast forward and we have had more ups and downs than a snakes and ladders board. Yet a Rainbow would light up the sky at our darkest times.
When Rachel was fighting cancer, those were bleak days. Sometimes the advice my Granny gave me would be fading into the distance as I clutched desperately to drag it back. My glass was starting to empty as searched the desert in my mind for water.
On Kyle’s 5th Birthday 06th May 2014 we Got another Rainbow. However this one delivered the news that his Mummy was in remission from cancer. A gift beyond happiness on the most special day. Coincidence or fate? I go with the latter option.
For my marathons undertaken I have had a Rainbow on every one. And when I hit my brick wall that simple yet inspiring multitude of lights carried me home.
Another beacon for me was my love of football. I have supported my boyhood heroes Glasgow Rangers all my life and walking into Ibrox park still gives me the goosebumps I had as a child. Now it gives me great delight in taking my daughter to the games so she can share the love that I do for our team. Hope was seeing my daughter lead out the boys in blue in 2016, a proud moment as a father. The depleted tanks I held of smiles now being filled up by ever cheer from the 4 corners of the sacred ground. One fan who has been saved by the love of 50 thousand others. For that I thank you.
Finally the club kindly put a season ticket in Kyle’s name. Meaning he has a seat beside his sister and his Dad. We use Kyle’s ticket so Amelie can take friends to the games and inspire a new generation of young fans. The support I have had from fellow fans is why I hold this club in such affection. I have made friends for life that I hold in the highest regard. I just want to add that my Dad and brother are Celtic daft. Win or lose we all smile together. Whatever team you follow, it’s simply the beautiful game.
Along the way we have had tears. Moments when life hasn’t gone as we had hoped or dreamed. However all these things happened for a reason and have made us who we are today. We have stared down the eye of a hurricane and have come out the other side.
Are their obstacles ahead? Absolutely. However we will deal with them together as we have done for so many years now.
Through all our pain and darkness we still had each other as a family. We are blessed to have an Angel above and an Angel on Earth when some have nothing. My little girl still has her Mummy while others sadly do not. That is why we always know someone else is worse off. It’s the reason we fundraise. Raise awareness for Cancer and child loss. It’s the legacy we owe our Son. We can look Amelie in the eye when she is older and say that her Mum and Dad fought back. We didn’t accept anything without a fight.
All of us will fall into the darkness at some point. It’s how we react that can define us. My ladder arrived in the shape of many colours to rescue me. Whether it’s a glowing aurora sky or the twinkling stars, we all deserve our very own Rainbow.
My Glass remains almost full. No doubt there will be droughts and floods to come. When I need a top up I know my friends and loved ones will be the rain when I need it.
I guess the easiest way to start is by simply saying I like to Run.
I never took up the art of pounding my feet over many miles until I turned 29. I would watch the London marathon from the comfort of my couch aghast at all those people putting themselves through sheer pain. Although secretly admiring the utter determination and bravery on show.
And so came my 1st adventure. A part in a relay team was offered to support Tommy’s baby charity. I simply could not say no. Especially after losing our only son Kyle just 2 years earlier. I was given the last 4.5 miles, otherwise known as the glory leg. It was a beautiful May day and the Edinburgh marathon weekend. May was significant with Kyle’s birthday being the 6th. I done a little light jogging leading up to event. I had always been ok fitness wise since my RAF days so this should have been simple enough.
As I waited patiently at my point, the nerves bulldozed their way in. Half sickness and half excited. I had never felt this since my passing out parade for the Air Force. Then the moment arrived, the 3rd leg was in and I was up. I didn’t know what to do. I simply ran. My IPod was on and off I went into the Sun. Those miles seemed like years as well wishers cheered me and many others along.
And so came the final straight. The line in sight and I sprinted to the finish where my team were waiting. Delighted with a relay medal to show. That was the day I caught the bug.
That afternoon in Edinburgh’s summer inferno I found my path. Those steps gave me an output I had never felt before. I could channel my thoughts through a pair of size 11 nike as well as any aggression I needed to release. I was hooked.
I had signed up for something I never felt possible. The 2013 Edinburgh marathon. And no couches allowed.
Training began and small 3 mile runs became 5. 5 became 8 and before I knew it 20 was just a standard Saturday morning. I started to believe.
12 months later I was back. This time at the start line and about to embark on a journey that would last years to come, not 26.2 miles.
Joanna was my partner in crime. My wife’s aunt who ran every step with me training. Marathon veteran who knew the course. As We waited the nausea came back with butterflies carrying it. Before leaving, Amelie gave me her Smurf toy. I grasped it in my hand. This little fella was coming too. Silence, then the starter gun went. My mind paused. This was it.
That sunkissed day I had a tailwind at my back and I knew my boy was carrying me. Joanna felt ill at mile 14 and needed a little assistance and I was told to carry on as she would catch me. Joanna had someone and I knew she would be Back. I felt great until mile 22, my wall. The point where all of a sudden I crashed head 1st into the layers of bricks encasing my mind. My legs were begging for Instructions that my brain couldn’t give them. Rachel’s cousin John, a machine of a man decided to guide me home and helped me along. Out of nowhere Joanna joined me at mile 24 and was as fresh as a daisy. A PB was on the cards for her yet she wouldn’t leave my side. Finally the line was ahead and we crossed it side by side. Hands aloft. This lady will never know how much she did for me that day. Amelie was at the finish and all I could do was cry. Little smurf never broke sweat, bloody show off he was. 26.2 miles in that heat for a Ginger was sadistic in every sense of the word. Kyle’s Daddy had him a medal. I felt like Superman. Euphoria did not even come close. I was Superman for a day.
When Rachel’s cancer was diagnosed later that year I had a half marathon just 3 days before back home in fort William. Mile 8 arrived and my Foot went into pain never felt before. I knew my girls were at the finish so for the next 5 miles I hobbled as best as I could. I crossed that line in just over 2 hours 20. Slower than hoped but a fractured heel was the outcome. I couldn’t let them down no matter the pain.
And when Rachel recovered from this evil illness and I was able to Jog I felt a burning desire to run. Loch Ness Marathon September 2014 was my aim. A stunning yet unforgiving course. I had to do this and put my own demons to rest. There were monsters in my mind as well as the water beside our route.
Inverness bught park and I’m in pink hair with Kyle’s name on my top. Get on the bus and chat to lad beside me. A fella called Iain. Funny beyond belief. And a character. Just hit it off. We spoke about my journey and why I was here. He was a great man and enjoyed his company. Had a feeling this wasn’t the end.
And now I had my 2nd medal for my kids and more money for Clic Sargent. Losing a child was pain as was seeing my wife have cancer. I couldn’t imagine my child suffering it so they were an easy choice.
Through fate it transpired my cousin lived next door to Iain and after describing this perfect gent we knew we had same guy. I tracked him down and a friendship began.
And for the next 3 Loch Ness marathons I had the ideal company on each bus journey. Iain wore Kyle’s name on my last run and was an absolute honour he did. A friend for life.
I have had failure in-between. I challenged myself to the west highland way in July 2016. 100 miles between Glasgow and Fort William. I had trekked 46 miles alone in 36 hours before I had to give up. My feet had cut and blistered to point I risked serious injury carrying on as night fall approached. I was bandaged up In hospital that damp Tuesday and I sobbed letting my boy down. Some laughed at my misfortune as I knew some would. Superman was broken and my cape lay in the ruins of my confidence.
It was meant to be 7 days for Kyle’s 7th birthday finishing with my home town marathon in Fort William. I couldn’t walk for 2.days and the medics said it was game over. Or was it?
I went back on Friday as requested by hospital and my feet were dressed. The nurse was an ultra runner and we chatted. He had suffered injury too. I asked my chances of recovery in time for Sunday and he wryly smiled. He had seen worse. He told me if I was set on it then to see him after shift Saturday night and he would tape my feet. He fully obliged.
Sunday morning came and I pulled on my shoes and my running vest. The best had a rainbow and each colour carried a name of a baby gone too soon. These were angels who I had met their parents as well as 2 boys who rest beside Kyle. I told no one I was going apart from my girls who I kissed goodbye. I had nothing to lose. And that Sunday afternoon in the shadow of Ben Nevis those little angels carried me home. A little over 5 hours but I crossed that line and tears did flow. Not a lot to some but in my mind it was up there with conquering Everest.
6 marathons now and over 8 thousand pounds to help a little for kids. That’s the legacy I whispered to Kyle I would give him. I knew then I hadn’t failed. By being his Dad I was already a winner for life. I have both Kyle and Amelie’s foot prints tattoed on my legs. My children now run every step with me.
Some could call it running away. I simply call it my mind running the show of my body. It gave me focus when my eyes could not see. It gave me hope when darkness invaded my heart. It gave be a belief when my confidence was slipping away.
For years I believed I was Superman. I was wrong. However my marathons let me feel like I was a hero for those 26.2 miles.
Running is my therapy as I have no doubt others have their own coping mechanisms. These days I also like to talk and share how I feel. As a Dad sometimes we are forgotten and other times too ashamed to speak out.
I hope others will know they are never alone.
I don’t need to run from fear anymore. I run for me x
I simply cried. Fear wasn’t there to patrol any more. Most days I was fine as could be. Then without warning the tsunami would strike. Paralysed, my heart would sink and my eyes would leak. Sometimes in places I never wanted it to be seen let alone in front of others. In a way my programme was malfunctioning and I did not have the expertise to fix it.
Being Dad 