Sudden Death Doesn't Discriminate

I barely slept last night. It was one of those nights where sleep simply won't find you, no matter how many Pukka sleepy teas you've sunk before curling up. My partner lay beside me, watching something on television with his headphones on, so as not to disturb me. When I heard him say my name around 1am, as frustratingly alert as I was, I couldn't work out what he could possibly need to speak to me about at this time. Turning his phone screen towards me, the light illuminating my face, I read the news of Liam Payne's death in Argentina. A sinking feeling rose up. Another young celebrity gone too soon. Joining others that formed part of the zeitgeist of my own youth. Heath Ledger, Amy Winehouse and Matthew Perry, to name just a few that seem to have imprinted on my memory. But this isn't a blog about celebrity, or words written to speculate on what has happened to Liam Payne. This is a post about sudden death and the cataclysmic ripples that ensue, after the death of anyone so young, in such tragic and seemingly unexplained circumstances.

Liam Payne was not someone whose career and life I followed particularly, save for the inevitable information that permeates, when someone is as famous as he was. I wasn't a fervent One Direction fan either, though I did love X Factor back in the day. My loose connection to this awfully sad event, is the shared experience of pain that I know his family and friends will now be living with. And though One Direction was not a big influence in my life, Cheryl Cole was someone I did follow. Cheryl is the same age as me. I loved how she so successfully infiltrated pop culture, despite her humble beginnings. I loved her warmth and down to earth charm. And so when I heard the news, it was her I thought of. I imagined her receiving the news and I knew intimately how she might be feeling in such a moment. Though no longer in a romantic relationship with Liam, the knowledge that her son Bear's father will never now see him grow up, likely hit her full force in the gut. I can't begin to know anything of the complexities of her relationship with Liam. But, I could well imagine the torment, as she tried to process the news and the realisation that her son will have to be told of his father's death. Was she alone? Were family members there to support her? For a moment, I was back in my own moment of stark realisation after the death of my too young husband. How could I possibly impart such devastating news to my three children, largely innocent of the world and still too young to fully understand death anyway? I understood intimately how a loss like this delineates the time before it and the time after it. How nothing is ever the same again. How sudden death doesn't discriminate. I am sad for that. I am sad for the loss of someone so young. And I am sad for a mother, just like me, who had to break this news to her little one, knowing that it would change his life forever. 

Dr Laura Williams is a clinical psychologist, therapist, mother and widow. She writes on psychological topics including grief, loss and trauma. Email: [email protected] For an article on telling children about loss click the following link - https://sudden.org/supporting-children/children-and-sudden-death-how-to-support-them/