Lauren Lythgoe’s shared experience

After my brother Ciaran took his own life I read something online which really resonated with me, ‘It is said that when you lose a parent you lose your past, when you lose a child you lose your future, when you lose a sibling you lose both.’ Two years down the line and those words still cut deep.

There was 7 years between me and Ciaran. I was the big sister and Ciaran was my shadow. I couldn’t move without him by my side; sleepovers when I was at Uni (how uncool was I), coming on holidays and nights out with my friends, my go-to shoulder to cry on when things went wrong in my dating life. We were best friends. Growing up it was just me, Ciaran and Dad so this cemented our bond even further, never a day we didn’t speak and most importantly every conversation would always end in ‘I love you’.

Ciaran had his struggles with mental health since a teenager, he had requested help via doctors but sadly mental health prognosis can be a slow process. It took 7 years for Ciaran to be diagnosed with fibromyalgia but the real underlying condition was never truly looked at until weeks before his death and at that point it was too late. Despite his personal struggles he was the usual happy-go-lucky 28-year-old lad. He had a close-knit group of friends, a wonderful girlfriend and the making of him was truly the day his little boy Harrison was born. I have never felt prouder than that day of seeing my little brother truly become a man. He was a natural.

As we come to 2 years since he died, I really have been spending time reflecting on what its been like to lose a sibling. 

I feel lonely, lost. I still feel cheated and robbed. 

I was the older sibling; I was supposed to go first. Now I have to live another 35+ years without my best friend. How will I do this? Can I do this?

I was the older sibling; I should have protected him. But how do you protect anyone from their own mind?

Three weeks after he died, I became a mum for the first time. As you can imagine this was not the magical time I had envisioned. I have a text from Ciaran on how he cannot wait to meet my son, how we had planned our future holidays with our kids together, his tips on what I need to buy etc. Most importantly he was just a phone call away. In one action of desperation all these plans and dreams were gone. 

How I got through the loss of my brother to suicide, a new born baby, COVID lockdowns and grief I will never know. Thankfully I had the love and support of my husband, my dad, Ciaran’s girlfriend and my friends. How I process the loss each day is by visualising that he is just in the next room. I write to him a lot, have photos around my house and always talk about him as if he is still alive. He is alive, as long as we talk about Ciaran he will live on.

The last two years we have all continued with the future plans that we had made with Ciaran. His partner and little boy have moved to a house in the area they wanted their little boy to live in. My dad is planning to move to France once he retires, me and Ciaran always wanted him to go live his life. Our boys spend a lot of time together and I know will be best friends just like we planned for them to be. We celebrated his 30th this year surrounded by all his friends sharing stories and laughs about the great times we had together. 

Ciaran was one of 50 people whose image was used for the CALM suicide exhibition called ‘The last photo’. Seeing his photo on This Morning and visiting the campaign on South Bank was equally devastating and beautiful. It did bring back raw emotions but the fact that we were able to include Ciaran in this campaign to help spread awareness to others was incredible. For a moment he was alive again!! 

With the rising statistics of people, especially young men, struggling with their mental health I hope that by raising awareness and sharing our stories that Ciaran’s legacy will always live on and if his story can help just one person then that brings me immense comfort and healing. We need to learn not to shy away from the word suicide and the trauma that comes with a loss when a loved one takes their own life. I hope that one day talking will become the norm and the feeling of shame a thing of the past.