All Saints’ Day 2015

Writing this on All Saints’ Day doesn’t mean much for me, because I don’t need a sort of ‘special’ day in the year to think about my departed dad. But because it might make more sense to some of you, I thought I’d give it a go…

Liz osban

© Photo by Liz Osban 

One of the good things about being a journalism student is that you have to write all the time; even when you don’t feel like it or feel like you’re not inspired to put anything on a blank page, you still have your deadlines and hence need to produce something. I think that helps me a lot right now, because if I didn’t have to write about this or that thing happening in London or elsewhere, I wouldn’t have been able to write these words to my dad the other day, and I simply wouldn’t be able to write at all.

In the days that followed this tragedy, I received messages from many of you, even from people I am not particularly close to or whom I hadn’t been in touch with for a while. So I’d like to take advantage of today to express and share my thanks to all of those who have showed and brought me an incredible amount of support since my dad passed away…

But after a while, all you’re left with is your family and the people who are the closest to you. And I honestly like it better that way. Don’t get me wrong though! And don’t’ take this personally! I really appreciate all of the kind and caring messages and calls, but it tends to get a tad too overwhelming and so I think I really need to stick to just a small bunch of people…


© Photo by Liz Osban 

I’m still hurting, still suffocating and still mad at loads of things and people, but I’m on the healing path and I’m lucky enough not to have to go it alone. I’ve got my family and my very best friends by my side, telling me things like ‘I don’t know what to say, but I’m here’ or ‘you don’t have to be strong right now’ or even ‘I’ve been where you are’. To those people, I want to say thank you for being strong on my behalf currently. But I know only I can save myself… I know I need to be my own hero. I’m just not there yet and I still need these people walking beside me and holding my hand.

Because I still can’t quite cope with waking up every morning and facing another day, completely or – at least partially – wasted; and being surrounded by these people, barely content with their life and only getting anxious for whatever tiny crap of the everyday life. One of the things that particularly makes me sick is seeing those people who expressed their condolences and sometimes even came to the funeral somehow pretending they were sharing the same suffocating pain, just a couple of weeks later, having gone back to their miserable life just as if nothing had changed and displaying their happiness on Facebook or God-knows-what-other-social-media!

They say some of the most painful moments will come when everyone around is happy, and you suddenly stop breathing and you feel your body filling itself up with tears and quite simply betraying you. And at that point, you just go wait it out in the bathroom or any other isolated space for a while.

That’s pretty much what my daily life looks like, in case you’re wondering…


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