Category: Uncategorized (Page 2 of 3)

The 14^th of April is Ben’s birthday. Even though he’s not here anymore it’s still his birthday; the date on which he was born. This year (2021) he would have been 25. A quarter of a century. However he died aged 23 and 7 months. Strangely I became pregnant with him when I was 23 and 7 months. By the time I was 25 I had a beautiful one year old son and had recently moved from Oxford to York. Everyone thinks that their baby is the best- but mine really was THE best. He was my everything and despite life being a challenge (no partner, no job, no settled area to live in) it was all worthwhile because of Ben.

I moved to York to be nearer to my family and to start my first post-grad job as a hydrogeologist at York Environment agency. I worked part-time so that I could be there for Ben and as this was my first rung on the ladder my pay was less than my childcare bills. But it was a start and I felt like I was creating foundations for our future. Looking back on it the year we spent in York was one of the happiest times of my life. We moved to Bath when Ben was two and a half for work. But that’s another story for another time.

I was fiercely protective of Ben and totally knew what unconditional love felt like. I told him I loved him so often that I hoped it would become part of his DNA and that he would keep that love with him whatever happened in his future. I like to think its still wherever he is. I just don’t know where that is?

I chat to Ben all the time in my mind but sometimes I speak out loud to him. A couple of weeks ago I told him I was really missing him and could he come and see me in my dreams? I often feel him around and imagine him giggling at some of the pickles I get myself into. That night as I was dropping off to sleep I ‘saw’ him. Really saw him in 3D so I could look around his beautiful face soaking up his delicate features. It was lovely. A real gift. Then I stood back and looked at him as a whole. He was standing up and shaking his left arm like he was trying to get it into a tight coat sleeve. He noticed me watching and said ‘this body is such a uncomfortable fit- it always was but its how you recognise me so I’m back in it’. Ben was uncomfortable in human form. Human life was a bit of mystery for him. As a child he always said he was from Mars. 

I think I believe that we have a soul and that we incarnate in different ways/forms. Being a human was a stretch for Ben- he never really knew what date or day it was, he struggled to express himself and he was indifferent to eating food. He said that when he got to uni he would just exist on powder with nutrients in so he didn’t have to cook. He did it too. Money was another mystery. How he drove a car was something else. He did at least 4 theory tests and 3 driving tests. He never got his licence. Maybe they don’t have cars on Mars? 

In my dream as Ben struggled to fit into his body I said* there’s no need to do that. Next time be more comfortable when I see you; appear in a form what feels comfortable for you- just make sure I can recognise you. I wonder what it will be…

I often feel his mischievous energy around. I felt like I heard him chuckling the other day; I was getting ready to launch our new business and I needed a white board to write on. I sent out a request via text to ask if anyone had a white board I could borrow. Then I went for a swim in the sea and literally bumped into a flat board of white plastic. To me it felt like Ben had wombled and delivered exactly what I’d asked for! I picked the board up and its at home now!

Bens birthday present to me:

This year I’ve arranged a rather special birthday present for Ben to give to me. I’ll share more about it in a bit but here’s the back-ground..

When Ben died he left behind very little stuff- he didn’t really ever want material possessions and over his last years he moved around a lot so things got lost. When I went through his stuff I found a small ingot of 24 carat gold bullion. I remembered that Ben/ had mentioned that he thought he’d been over-paid some benefit so he was going to invest it in gold to make sure he didn’t spend it. Then a few days after he died there was a deposit of £1500 in his account from PIP benefit. He had been waiting months for it and had jumped through loads of hoops to qualify for Personal Independent Payment (PIP). That meant he wouldn’t have to work until he was reassessed in a few years time and could therefore focus on his health rather than constantly filling in benefit forms or applying for jobs he just couldn’t hold down. It’s a baffling process even without a muddled mind. The whole process caused Ben a lot of distress in his final few weeks so I accepted the money on his behalf (its paid a month in arrears) and did what he would have done and bought some gold with it. I’ve been wondering what to do with it ever since. Watch this space…

Overall I think I’m coping better than I was this time a year ago. I’m still heart- broken and will always carry great big heavy bags full of grief and loss but I’m learning how to manage them better. I need to actively find sources of joy as much as possible to balance up the sadness a bit. I just have no room to carry optional sadness or drama. I live by the phrase ‘ I choose joy’ whenever its possible. I Think Ben would approve. 

Ben is still very much in my present and my day to day life but I miss him so much. Its very hard and relentless- I won’t lie. I’ve had a two pretty bad health scares this year. Ironically (and rather cruelly) on the first anniversary of Ben’s death I received the results of biopsy which meant my life went one way or another. For two weeks I’d had to prepare myself for either scenarios. I wasn’t sure what to hope for but when I received ‘good news’ I was pleased for John’s sake. Then recently I had to have another biopsy and this time I was hoping that the tests showed I was healthy. That was a turning point.

*said is not quite the right word and sort of illustrates the awkwardness of human communication techniques via the written and spoken word. My dreams don’t have words in, just feelings conveyed without the need for words. A sort of soul level communication. Its much clearer than using clumsy words which can be hard to find and can be misinterpreted- an example of the difficulties of being incarnated as a human. Brain too big, words too powerful, kindness too quiet.

This Christmas was so much easier than last year which was literally hell on earth. Last year I was shocked and raw and felt like all my skin had been ripped off. I was literally in bits. Every single part of Christmas preparation sent a stabbing pain through me. My brain kept reflecting back to the year before when Ben came down for Christmas 2018. It went something like this….’this time last year I got one of those for Ben’s stocking’ and ‘last time I heard that song Ben was alive’ and ‘last year I was a Mum’ and ‘Last year I had a son’ and ‘the last time I thought about bread sauce Ben was alive’. Every little tradition involved reflection and a huge pang of loss.

This year it was like the initial impact had been felt. I could look at a Terry’s chocolate orange without being hit by a stream of memories. Like one Christmas morning being woken by the distinctive sound of a chocolate orange being banged on the floor to open it up. I think Ben was about 6. When I went into Ben’s Room he was sitting there surrounded by the chaos of a hurriedly opened Christmas stocking. He said he loved his stocking but really didn’t like the muesli ball that he had taken a big bite out of … it was in fact a fat ball for the birds!

Christmas 2020 has been so different for everyone. Something that blind-sided me was when lots of people on TV, friends and family were really upset that they couldn’t see their family for Christmas this year. It made realise that I have to live my life with this loss not just for a year but for every single day for the rest of my life- not just at Christmas. I felt so isolated that my norm is so far from most other people’s norm. John and I also had a few ‘words’ as he finds relating to my grief difficult. Of course he does. Everyone does. Never in a million years would I expect him or anyone to know what it feels like. Well maybe God does- ironically the only common reference to the intense, enduring grief of loosing your only son is in the Bible!

This year I decided we needed to make some new traditions to make things easier. I still couldn’t face opening the Christmas decoration box so I took the easy way out and bought lots of new ones and asked my family to send me some of theirs. Ironically a couple of days after doing this I then felt able to open the box. It really, really hurt. I’m devastated to say that probably my most precious treasure had not survived storage. I hadn’t opened the box since it was put in storage two years ago when we last moved. Ben had made a ‘pork pie’ decoration at primary school. At the time we lived near Melton Mowbray and as we always have pork pie for Christmas breakfast it was an excellent choice. I loved it. When I saw it was now a mush I felt another pang of loss. But it was tiny in comparison to the loss of Ben so I’ve just got on with it. Things are things. I’ve got the memory.

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This year I was able to give Ben a Christmas present. His long board has been a brilliant temporary headstone. However Bunchy who runs the green burial site where Ben’s ashes are buried has been gradually preparing me that it needs to be removed. They only like natural materials in the woodland. My sister Laura who is a stonemason has carved a headstone for Ben. Due to Corona she (and it) are stuck in France….. so I improvised and adapted a bit of left over slate to be a stand in until it arrives. I think Ben would approve! I’ve found being able to visit Ben there so comforting. I take the dogs up there (it was originally a pet/horse cemetery and they now reluctantly let people in!!) and say to them ‘where’s Ben? Find Ben’ and they run off to his plot- where they and us will eventually end up.

A lovely article about how swimming in the sea helps people cope. Greg Martin interviewed me in late November 2020. I didn’t swim in the sea until I was in my 30s (I was scared of fish)! Now I swim in the sea most days. If I don’t the day is more of a struggle. This article was written a few weeks ago.

“ I started regular sea swimming at the start of lockdown 2. I find exercise with a bit of a community feel really helps my mental health.”I love RS Fitness gym in Newlyn, but since it was closed I decided to try something new. I’ve always loved sea swimming and find just being near the sea very therapeutic. I thought winter sea swimming would be too ‘hardcore’ but in lockdown 2, sea swimming was clearly the new sourdough!”After seeing so many folk in the water around Penzance, and with a bit of nagging from my lovely neighbour, Beccy, we both decided to give it a go. We are both addicted to it now!”Jumping in the sea is like pressing a reset button in my head. If I’m grumpy, overwhelmed or tired, getting in the sea just makes me zing. It takes me straight into the present moment where my mind is totally focused on just being in the water.”The sounds, the colours, the sparkles, the sounds of chat and laughter around as we all challenge and support each other. Each of us facing our own battles and being held by the gentle spirit of cold, salty water. I really notice the lack of this zing if I don’t swim – it sets me up for the day.”(Image: Greg Martin / Cornwall Live)12 of 19

“The sense of community, of finding my tribe, has been such an unexpected gift. The sea is no place for airs and graces- just refreshing reality. Many of us are trying to keep our heads together and, literally, above water.”My personal battle is with life itself and the huge grief that I will always have to live with.”I struggle with mental health issues and so did my son.”Ben was so strong and I’m incredibly proud of him. Tragically he lost his battle.”Ben was my only child and was just 23 when he died in October 2019. Ben lived in Brighton for the last year of his short life. He swam in the sea regularly. I feel closest to him when I’m in the sea.”Being a tiny part of a vast, seemly endless, ocean makes me feel that maybe he’s not so far away. I never thought I’d ever be 100% happy again. But in the sea I have been – for a few precious moments.”

https://www.cornwalllive.com/news/cornwall-news/gallery/sea-swimmers-cornwall-finding-solace-4747075?utm_source=linkCopy&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=sharebar

Ben also liked swimming in the sea when he lived in Brighton. One of his key workers sent me a lovely memory which mentions this. I can just picture his hair!

The one about the seagull you already know, and the time he set off the fire extinguisher. I’m sure I could remember some other stories too… I only found out about the longboarding down devils dyke because Ben came to our appointment with his arm in a makeshift sling made from an old T-shirt. I remember he wasn’t that keen on seeing me at that point in time so I’d always offer to make him a cup of coffee and every time he said “cor, yes please!” like he was gasping for a coffee. He barely sat down for a minute before he finished the coffee, started rolling a fag, placed it in his mouth and got up and paced round the room waiting for me to finish talking to him.

He was always excited about something. One day it would have been going to a festival with his sister, the next it would be some good honest labour he had planned. Anyway on that day he was telling me how useless the A&E was (hence the makeshift sling) he asked me if he could have a sick note for his work because the arm hurt but it looked okay and I remember Dan was suspicious that Ben hadn’t hurt his arm at all. I watched him leave on his bike with his arm in a sling wobbling down the driveway towards the beach. His hair was always wild and salty at that time because he was bathing in the sea every day.

Whenever I think about Ben I’m always tempted to play a game he introduced me to, “Polytopia” a “good old turn based strategy. Very difficult Neil” I might have a game later this evening and see if I can think up any more stories.

The house next door has seagulls nesting in the chimney, the racket they make! Anyway they have affectionately been named Bert and Ethel and there’s a young chick that’s fledging. I often think of Ben and his seagull while sitting outside with them.

Its just too difficult to write about the day Ben died, and how I found out about it. So this year I’m going to mark the date with a happy post.

I sent the email below to Ben, 4 years ago. He had just dropped out of Uni at the end of his first year, but was still living in the Netherlands. We thought he was still studying, it was so hard to get hold of him via phone or email and when it did it just felt like I was nagging him. I decided to send him some happy thoughts on an email in case he would like it. I reminded him he had love running through his DNA and he could tap into that any time.

From: Anna Findlay Date: 18 September 2016 at 17:13:36 BST To: Ben Subject: Happy times!

Hi Ben I thought it might be nice to remind you of some happier times we have shared over the years. I’ve loved being your Mum. In no particular order-

• Getting Devon and you and him curling up in his dog bed together.
• Your 8th birthday party complete with dog pooh cake made by Aunty Laura.
• Climbing the apple tree right to the top at Old Hall cottage and bouncing on the trampoline in the garden.
• The village bonfire at our house and John throwing fireworks on the fire every year even though I told him not too.
• Scalextrix in the attic. Me and you going to Belgium together.
• Then when you were much older going to Groningen together for the first time.
• Swimming Topsham open air pool after school in Clyst st Mary.
• Harry Potter world with Phil and drinking butter beer!
• Camping at Trewan Hall and the evolution of the Ghetto. Devon turning up the summer fair at Trewan and being offered as a raffle prize! Bouncing on the grass on the Island near Treyarnon beach.
• You being sent home from school for smelling of Lavender! You were kept in a toilet cubical at school until John could collect you! You had 4 showers and went back to school!
• You skate boarding or scooting everywhere in the village.
• Your first ever job lifting a flag at the polo pitch in langham when there was a goal. You made this even easier by literally lying down on the job!
• Sailing courses on Rutland Water.
• Cooking chocolate cakes in a mug in the microwave.
• Seeing you chilling in the hammock in the back garden.
• Your Duke of Edinburgh revelation!!
• Choosing one present to open every Christmas Eve.
• Visiting you in Groningen in your first year and you showing us round your uni. Going out for an Indonesian meal.
• You bringing me a fig back for breakfast that you had found on a tree.
• You working in the charity shop and choosing my 40th birthday present from there.
• You being embarrassed because I sing in the street!
• Keeping conkers in the safe.
• Going out for walks with you when you were a baby and were in the back pack. You squeeled with excitement when you saw a dog!
• Cycling to nursery school in York. You were on the back of my bike and if a train went under the bridge we had to stay and wave at it even if we were late!
• Spending days standing on the bridges at York station waving at trains!
• You and Marcus being cheeky page boys! And taking loads of photos of the waitress at our wedding.
• Reading stories together after work and school in Bath. Quite often we’d fall asleep together in your little bed.
• Getting a Blue Peter badge!
• Watching you having a surf lesson and you picking it up really quickly.
• Watching how gentle and loving you were to Sox and Devon.

I miss you- I’ve got loads (more) happy memories of you and hope you can remember some good times too. You are very loved xx

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F.Y.I – This is an introductory post. If you are new here then it’s best to read the blog from the bottom up as it’s written in chronological order, added to over time. Newer posts are at the top.

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I really wish that I didn’t have to introduce you to this blog- but I do…

My reasons for wanting to write about Ben have evolved since he died nearly a year ago. Much to my surprise I find writing very cathartic and a helpful way to process my thoughts. My old English teacher would be laughing as English was never my strong point- hey hum. I write from an emotional place, when the feeling moves me. Grammar etc is not top of the agenda but I do read it back afterwards and add a bit of punctuation in here and there.  I’d rather it was ‘real’ but thank goodness for spell check!

Up until now I’ve shared my thoughts about Ben on Facebook (I’ve included these at the bottom of the blog). However over time I’ve realised that that is not the best way to share raw, sometimes very sad and possibly ‘triggering’ thoughts. Hence this blog where folk can read things if and when they want to. It’s also a place to collate photos and share the music I associate with him. Feel free to add to them. I’m very untechnical so this is all a bit of a challenge- bear with. Marcus Harding, Ben’s oldest friend from Preschool in Bath,  has set this blog up for me. Ben would have loved that.

I never want to forget about Ben so all I have are precious memories and a blog is a way of capturing that. Its also interactive so other people can share their thoughts. It is a safe space. A kind place where we accept other’s point of view. I will only write from my point of view and will not use the blog as a way to blame anyone. I try very hard not to do ‘what ifs or if onlys’…. they don’t change the tragic outcome.

However the failings of the mental health service (Until he arrived in Brighton) were a big part of Ben’s story, so that will be part of it. As will the wonderful people/ professionals who touched Ben’s life. To be human is to be flawed and vulnerable. And a bit of a twat sometimes.

I imagine the people who read this are mine and Ben’s friends and family. However if you know people who may find it helpful then please feel free to share it. Writing about mental illness and the death of a much loved son is a gritty, cry-ie, snotty, messy subject. Its not something everyone feels comfortable with. But I do and I want to celebrate Ben’s short life and the unique perspective he had about it and what its like to live without him.

Benedict James Jeary was born in Oxford on 14/04/1996. It was a beautiful birth. A Sunday. All of his family were there to welcome him to the world.

Benedict James Findlay died at Telscombe Cliffs, Peacehaven near Brighton 19/10/19. It was a tragic death. A Saturday but I didn’t find out until the police came to tell me on the Monday. He was alone.

Ben’s Mum,

Anna x

Benedict (Ben) James Findlay

14.04.96 -19.10.19 Loved Forever.

Gosh being raw with grief in the run up to Christmas is really hard. I can’t face putting up the Christmas decorations as there are so many memories attached to them. Little home made Santas from pre-school when life was full of hope. I’m going to put some fairy lights up though obvs.

Then there’s Christmas shopping- I saw THE PERFECT gift for Ben. He was always really hard to buy for as he didn’t want material possessions. But the socks which make you look like you are wearing flip flops would have made him chuckle. I always gave him a Christmas stocking- I’ll miss doing that.

It’s incredibly hard but they say grief is the price of love and I loved Ben soooo much even when his personality changed totally over the last couple of years.

This post seems very sad but there have been some lovely times this weekend too- meeting up with friends and walking on the beach with John. I went to Quakers even though I couldn’t stay long and heard mousehole Male voice choir sing and we won a fabulous hamper.

Sometimes I get huge waves of relief that Ben’s suffering is over. I spoke with his psychiatrist and Bens future was likely to be very difficult with regular hospital admissions and more medication. I think Ben knew that.

I had a beautiful dream where a young man with twinkly eyes and an impressive beard was handing me a white rose from the bunch he was holding. I accepted it and realised the young man was the Ben that could have been. And now maybe is. He ALWAYS wanted a beard (even before they were cool). He didn’t quite manage it on the earth.

Ben Findlay
I am blessed in so many ways xx

Where does love go when the one you love is no longer alive? I find myself in the middle of an existential crisis asking questions to which there are no answers. None.

When your child dies everything is out of sync. I’ve already had to choose where I want to be buried as I want to be with my boy. I’ve had to think about things most parents never think about.

When we got our first dog, Devon, a black Labrador we knew the deal. We would love him until he died. We would outlive him. We hoped Devon would live until Ben went to university and he did! He died just a week before Ben off to study.

We were sad when Devon died. Very sad. But we understood what we had signed up for. Devon had lived a full and happy life. After a few months of missing Devon we went to get George our red Labrador puppy who bumbled into our lives and into our hearts. Filling sadness with joy.

I can’t go and get a new Ben.
I didn’t sign up for him to die before me.
Love goes on.
But I don’t know where it goes.
Or where he has gone.
💔

Ben Findlay

It was Ben’s inquest in 3/3/20 Very sadly the verdict was suicide.

If anyone wants more info please give me a buzz/text on 07525 460802 or email me on annarfindlay@gmail.com

None of his care team saw it coming and neither did any of his family. He was totally sober with no drugs in his system. I respect it was his choice but I’m so incredibly sad he was suffering so much that he felt this was his only option.

Ben lost touch with almost everyone for the last 3 years of his life and his character changed totally.

Let’s remember the happy, cheeky, eccentric chap we loved. He was a free spirit and we held onto him as long as possible… but you can’t catch a cloud 💔

Some times are REALLY tough. Thats when I hide away so I don’t impose my grief on others. They come out of the blue and last night was one of those times.

It’s easy to make assumptions based on the ‘public face’ that is presented. I’ve plucked up the courage to let you see behind the mask.

I saw this poem and it resonated deeply. I’ve adapted it a bit.

My life goes on- I’ll dig deep and hope today is better. It usually is. Miss you so much Ben Findlay

Your life, that was yours to take,
But my heart, that wasnt yours to break,
From that very day my life has changed,
Now I walk round in an eerily daze,
A former shadow of myself,
I cant think, I cant speak, reality is hell,
The grief is like the dark raging clouds before the storm,
Are these flashbacks and nightmares now part of the norm?
I look back on that night in disbelief!
It didnt happen, you didn’t, you couldn’t!

But all you saw was a release.
You were so loved, but your demons were deep rooted,
Hidden locked away behind jokes and a smile,
I don’t know how you carried that burden,
I couldn’t walk in your footsteps not even for a mile.

I hope and pray you have now found your peace,
And maybe one day my heart will stop breaking and mourning my boy,
When that time comes it will bring me a great deal of relief,
But for now I will mask this pain,
Till the day I hold you in my arms again. ❤️

Poem by Chrissie Louise.