It will be 22 years this year that my brothers and I lost our mum to suicide. People often ask if I'm angry with her... I'm not. I never have been. She wasn't perfect but she was an incredibly caring, supportive, reliable and resourceful person. She was always there to help anyone who needed it, was always the strong shoulder to cry on and carried others burdens around with her. She had many of her own that she seldom shared. How could I ever be angry? She gave a huge amount of herself, her time, her understanding and forgiveness to others and left little for herself.

I am sad. Sad that she never got to meet any of our children. Sad that she wasn't there on our wedding days. Sad that she's missed out on so much joy our family would have brought her. Sad that she wasn't able to talk to us and share how she was feeling. Sad that she felt we would all be better off without her. And I miss her, every day. I wonder if she would be proud of us. I wish I could share my highs and lows with her, ask her parenting advice, just spend time, making memories and 'chewing the fat'.

Losing her wasn't our first experience with suicide. My brothers and I lost a friend the previous year and without knowing it at the time, she prepared me. She told me 'don't be mad. We are taught self preservation, to keep ourselves out of harms way. How sad must he have felt?' She used the word "brave' which sounds like an odd word to use to some but those words came back to me after she passed and were strangely comforting.

I am running this marathon with my cousin who sadly lost her husband and soulmate in 2020, also to suicide, in memory of them both. This time last year we started running together and could barely do 3k, now we've signed up to do 42! 

My heart breaks every time I hear of another life lost to suicide and if we can help save just one persons life, well then it's a cause worth running for.