Never Let Your Colours Fade: Tricia’s Journey Through Grief and Service

Tricia sometimes reflects on how unpredictable life can be. When she was younger, she imagined a certain future, as most people do. You expect a direction, a shape life might take. But now, looking back, Tricia sees she has arrived somewhere entirely different—not where she expected, but not in a bad way. Just a place shaped by unplanned threads.

Tricia grew up knowing the world was wide. Her father travelled often, unusual then. As a child, she realised there was more beyond her sight: different places, people, and ways of living. That stayed with her. It showed her that, at our core, we are all human.

Tricia carried that understanding into her work. She taught, then moved to youth work. She married Michael, and together they built a life full of people. Their home was open. People came and went. Some needed refuge, some just belonging. Michael had a way with people—gentle, grounded, deeply caring. He could meet people where they were, especially those struggling.

Then, quite suddenly, everything changed. One event shifted the course of Tricia's life in a way she could not have foreseen.

Michael died by suicide at 38. Their children were young. It was sudden, yet looking back, not entirely without signs. At the time, it felt like the ground vanished beneath them. Tricia remembers holding his note, instinctively knowing this moment would shape everything that followed.

A brief thought crossed her mind: perhaps she could tell people it was something else, something easier to explain. But just as quickly, she decided no. She would face this as it was. There would be no shame—only grief.

From then on, Tricia knew she had to make sense of what happened. Not by simplifying or blaming. She never saw Michael as selfish. He loved them deeply. He didn’t leave them; he left himself. He didn’t want to die, just didn’t know how to keep living with his pain.

That distinction mattered. It still matters.

In those early days, support was scarce. People said all sorts of things—some well-meaning, some unhelpful. But Tricia also found people who stayed. They didn’t try to fix or offer easy answers. Their presence made all the difference.

Tricia was determined to learn. She read everything she could, spoke to people, listened. She wanted to understand suicide not as something distant, but as part of human experience—painful, complex, often hidden. Over time, she saw it differently. Not a moral failing or simple choice, but a point where pain exceeds a person’s capacity to cope.

Understanding that didn’t remove the grief. But it gave it shape. It made it possible to carry.

Grief became something Tricia had to live with. At first, she tried to move through it quickly, as if it could be finished. But grief doesn’t work that way. It becomes part of your fabric. Tricia sees it as a patchwork—pieces of experience, some dark, some bright, stitched together over time. From the outside, it may look whole; inside, you see the threads.

Grief returns sharply at times, even years later—not because it’s unresolved, but because it’s part of life. When her first grandson was born, it should have been only joy, and in many ways it was. But she was overwhelmed with tears—not from sadness, but because Michael wasn’t there. Grief and joy can coexist.

Over time, Tricia was drawn to work she never planned: supporting others who experienced loss. She wrote resources where none existed. She spoke openly about suicide, staying human and approachable. She realised her offering was not traditional expertise, but presence—walking alongside others, sharing what she’d learned, creating space for honest conversation.

Tricia learned that honesty builds a bridge. When you speak openly, others come closer. They see themselves in your story. In that recognition, something changes.

Tricia now sees suicide as part of shared humanity—nothing to hide or whisper about. It’s difficult and painful. But when brought into the light with care, people can respond. It’s no longer isolating.

Tricia believes what matters most is how people are with each other. Not grand gestures, but small, daily acts: being present, listening, allowing room for sorrow and beauty together. Even amid grief, there are moments of connection—deeply human and quietly beautiful.

If Tricia has learned anything, it’s that people aren’t meant to carry these things alone. Everyone walks alongside others, often unseen. Sometimes, just walking together is where healing begins.

Full Podcast: Never Let Your Colours Fade: Tricia’s Journey Through Grief and Service