In August 2019, my world shattered when my 12-year-old son Lucas tragically fell from the seventh-floor apartment balcony on the last day of our Spanish holiday. As a single parent who had always been his constant protector, I experienced the unimaginable pain of watching my son die before my eyes. The primal scream that escaped me came from depths I never knew existed.
Lucas was a talented singer who went to Saint Nicholas high school in Hartford, Cheshire. He played at Knutsford rugby club since he was 5, he loved Rugby, and his coach nicknamed him the wrecking ball because he was fast and strong. He started a band with his friends from high school. He also loved acting and went to acting class every Saturday. Lucas was a kind, caring, thoughtful boy he had a great sense of humour which I always say he got from me. Lucas knew so many people in Knutsford, and he would always greet you with a huge smile, a high five or a hug. In 2021 one of my big achievements along with my friend Fiona and her son Sam who is Lucas’s friend, was to see in place at The Moor in Knutsford the beautiful oak bench, which was sculptured by Andy Burgess. Part of the Oak was given to me by Tatton Park. The bench is to celebrate Lucas’s life, and it includes some of the things that he loved – Rugby, singing and acting and woody one of his favourite toys as a child. The bench is for everyone to enjoy and make memories. It has little doors and stairs a mini stage all carved into it so that children can use their imagination around the bench. I always used to say to Lucas share and care this is also on the bench.
Loss is democratic—it doesn’t care about your background or how together you think you are. It comes for all of us without asking permission. The question is, what will you do when it crashes through your door?
The second year proved even more challenging as reality solidified Lucas was never coming back. I made a crucial decision: only I could heal myself because only I truly understood my pain. I sought professional support, finding someone you have rapport with is essential, and immersed myself in learning.
When my world collapsed, I created a roadmap not just for survival, but for living, I quickly realised the map isn’t the territory.
I found Gratitude in my darkest moments and kept reaching up, searching for the light. I suddenly understood how precious life is.
I found Resilience, not pretty, but a raw and brutally honest kind, that had been there since the day I was born and had pushed me through years of turmoil.
I found Intention, I chose to show up, slowly at first, waking up, a shower, leaving my home. Eventually as force of nature
I found my Evolution by transforming pain into purpose. By supporting others and finding meaning, it showed me who I am.
I kept moving Forward, Emotions need motion, and I felt and owned each one of them as they tore me to shreds and understanding that each emotion is valid and normal.
This isn’t about healing being linear—it’s a wild, unpredictable beautiful dance of emotions.
Before this tragedy, I would never have believed that within five and a half years, I’d retrain in various modalities to be of service and support people through life’s challenges. I’ve established a monthly Meet and Grief Café in Cheshire, which is a safe space for people to come and have their grief witnessed. I have a successful private practice. I’m in the throes of completing a Psychotherapeutic counselling course, delivered a TEDx talk on “The Power of Grieving as a Tribe,” participated in podcasts and talks for various companies.
While my journey began with my son’s death, I’ve come to recognize that grief accompanies many forms of loss. Whether it’s the end of a relationship, losing a job, leaving a home, saying goodbye to a beloved pet, or a dramatic change in lifestyle—grief emerges whenever we experience profound loss. The feelings may vary in intensity, but the process of grieving is universal and deserves acknowledgment, and a place at the table whatever its source.
I’ve navigated shock, denial, guilt, shame, anger, bargaining, depression, attempted suicide not only accepting but embracing the trauma and grief. These stages don’t replace each other but overlap in a complex emotional landscape unique to each person. I always say your grief is as distinctive as your fingerprint.
Today, I use my hard-won wisdom to guide others through their darkest moments, whether grieving death or other significant losses. I provide the space and understanding I once desperately needed, without empty platitudes or rushing past uncomfortable emotions.
Remember: Grief isn’t something to “get over.” It’s the price we pay for love. You are not broken. If you loved intensely, you will grieve intensely. This isn’t weakness—it’s the profound continuation of your love, which is one of our many superpowers.
Without death, we don’t have life, and without life, we don’t have death. The question isn’t whether adversity will find you it will, but what you’ll do when it does.
Nicola Marshall. 8th March 2025
