Liz
Liz is a peer-support worker.
She has experienced 10 losses in 10 years, including her dad Alan in 2018, mother-in-law Jean in 2022 and her sister Anna in 2023.
“My mother-in-law was an amazing gardener.
She brought cuttings and suggested plants to put in: a bleeding heart, a salvia called ‘Hot Lips’. She planted daffodil bulbs with my little boy and they still come up now. She’s everywhere in my garden.
I doubt I’ll ever have green fingers like hers, but I have the knowledge she passed on. We have a rose she gave us before she died. It’s called ‘Remember Me’. It’s blooming really well.
I really like having my hands in the soil. There’s something about connecting to nature. It’s grounding; I find it very mindful.
And I love seeing seeds pop through. There’s this tiny little thing you’ve put in soil and you give it light and water it.
It never gets old.
My sister died of sudden heart failure.
Everyone was saying ‘when’s the funeral?’ People mean well; they want to make sure they can get time off. I sent out holding messages: “It might be hard for people to understand, but this is right for us…”
We knew we didn’t want a traditional funeral; Jean’s memorial had shown us a way of doing things differently. Instead, we had an unattended cremation. It’s carried out in exactly the same way as a ‘normal’ cremation, it just doesn’t have a congregation.
On the day, me and Mum sat in our pyjamas and lit a candle. We ordered breakfast in - my sister liked doing that. It felt like such a relief.
Five weeks later, we had a memorial. We took time to think about how we wanted to remember and honour her. We wanted to be real about where Anna was at without going into masses of detail. But we wanted to share lovely things, too.
We left little quartz hearts on seats. We wanted to send people some love. And we didn’t want some crap buffet, so we had an afternoon tea. My cousin did a toast. If you’d walked past, you’d have thought it was a birthday party or something.
We had the ‘honouring her’ side of things and then the celebration. It was beautiful and healing.
“It gives me a shortcut to being able to take a breath, to manage my thoughts”
What struck me with Anna’s death is how much it’s brought up from losing other people. It’s not just about the person you’ve lost.
I took a long time off work after she died. I’m really glad I did. I needed to look after myself and my family; nothing else was important. It wasn’t just Anna; it was the cumulative impact of all of those losses.
I had a complicated relationship with my sister. She carried such a lot. But she was my sister - we should have been together until we’re old.
At the moment, I feel like I exist in a space that’s about loss and grief and bereavement. And that’s OK.
After my sister died, my brother-in-law bought me a bare root rose. It’s called 'Renaissance Rose Anna'. It was such a beautiful thought. It’s bloomed really well, too.
So now I have a rose for Jean and a rose for my sister.
The garden is still a place for me to go and reflect. There’s always a job to do - weeding, dead-heading. It gives me a shortcut to being able to take a breath, to manage my thoughts.
It’s where I go to remember them all. It feels like a hopeful place.”
Written by Laura McDonagh