By Bel Mooney for the Daily Mail
Published: 00:00 GMT, 6 December 2014 | Updated: 00:00 GMT, 6 December 2014
White butterfly darting among pinks - whose spirit?
From Sninkichi, a Japanese haiku master 1901-1987
Dear Bel,
I’m writing because I feel I’m already your friend, having just read your memoir about loss and your little dog. My Jack Russell does give me some comfort, like your book.
I’m a nurse aged 48, off work due to a recent bereavement. Three months ago my darling 23-year-old son died after accidentally taking an overdose of so-called ‘legal highs’: drugs and alcohol.
This year I also suffered another loss, though not as serious. I had a relationship with a much younger man (28). We’d been together for five years and I loved him very much, even though we agreed there was no future, due to the age gap.
He met a woman his own age and finished with me — exactly 12 days before the death of my son.
'I feel enormous guilt about my son’s death, as if I could have done more for him and somehow prevented his death'
I am now completely bereft and suffering from deep depression. I long for my son, and I long for the happy days which were only months ago. I am at a loss how to move my life forward and feel that there is nothing left for me on this earth.
Do you think going back to work is the answer? It requires emotional strength which I’m not sure I have at the moment. At times I have thoughts of suicide, but I’m too much of a coward and would feel guilty about leaving family (father and siblings) and friends to suffer as I am now.
I feel enormous guilt about my son’s death, as if I could have done more for him and somehow prevented his death.
I really needed the support of my ex-boyfriend and his family but he washed his hands of the whole situation, immersing himself in his new relationship. Due to his cold, unsympathetic attitude, I told him not to come to my son’s funeral.
My GP has prescribed antidepressants, but to little effect. I’m also in touch with Cruse, but things aren’t getting easier. My ex-husband and I keep in touch as he is the only other person in the world who feels this terrible loss as I do.
To sum up: I was a happy, confident person, enjoying my work and in love, but my whole life changed in a matter of months. I had a good relationship with my son and miss him terribly. I feel I’m being cruelly punished by God but don’t know what I’ve done. Please can you tell me how to carry on?
- Elaine
Once upon a time, in a pit of despair and consumed by terrible loss and confusion, a woman I know cried out to a friend: ‘I haven’t deserved this.’
The tough-minded friend just shrugged and pointed out that if it were a matter of justice, then bad things would never happen to good people.
Then the sad woman fell silent, remembering how, many years earlier, when her baby was stillborn, she had railed at the heavens with the universal question: ‘Why me?’ Only to hear her own voice whisper the reply: ‘Why not me?’
That woman’s face (somewhat older now) is at the top of this page. Twenty-eight years separated the two crises and the last one happened 11 years ago — yet I am no further along the road to understanding and cannot offer glib words of comfort. Because there are none.
Sooner or later all of us will have to confront the reality: that the universe is randomly cruel, just as it also showers unexpected blessings.
It’s much easier for the atheist who doesn’t seek to pin the blame for ‘punishment’. But if you do believe in a God, the hardest thing is to accept that pain is dished out without reference to sin or goodness. It just is.
You suffered the most terrible loss a parent can imagine, and we all feel we should be able to cast a magic cloak over our children, keeping them safe. Yet we can’t. Your son was in charge of his own life, so please don’t make yourself responsible — because it won’t help you.
I would like you to get hold of a little book called When Bad Things Happen To Good People, by Harold S. Kushner. Written after the death of the Rabbi’s son 37 years ago, it’s been continuously in print ever since, read by people of all faiths and none, trying to make sense of suffering.
Still available, the book is easy to read and I believe it might help.
The ending of your relationship was a cruel blow and I wish your ex-boyfriend could have found it in himself to be compassionate. I assume he was consumed with guilt (as well as new passion) and that resulted in his failure. I sympathise so much, but you have no choice but to go on living — not just for the sake of those who love you, but because every breath you take, every sunset you see, every merry wag of your dog’s tail, the scent of hyacinth, the sound of music … all such things will now be experienced by you for your son’s sake.
You cannot bring him back but you can carry him forward in your life, within your own heart.
You have many years ahead of you, and who knows what good things you will experience within them? What new people you may meet? What new love you might find?
These are still early days, so please don’t expect too much of yourself. This time next year you won’t feel the same anguish, so hold on.
I do think it would be good for you to return to work, because you have a noble profession — and I’d like to think that the sharing and helping and sense of community you find through nursing will help you. I hope so.
Why is our daughter in law so rude?
Dear Bel,
We are close to our son, who has four beautiful children whom we adore — but more and more we’re being denied access.
We are never invited over, unless it’s to do something, help clear the garden, put up shelves etc. When we do go, my daughter-in-law stays in bed and never acknowledges us.
If other family members are present she’ll get up, but totally ignore us, to the point that it causes embarrassment to all.
We’ve tried and tried, but unless we are paying for things or doing something at her convenience we just cannot make any breakthrough.
At the last awful visit (we must arrive and leave at the specified time), she again stayed in bed, our son was harassed, and the birthday present we took was a failure (though bought to Mummy’s orders).
We ended up giving money for the birthday and taking the present home after 15 minutes despite it being a one-and-a-half-hour drive each way. My husband suffers heart problems and I was upset.
Now there’s a rift between us because he just wants to see the children but I don’t want to go over and be treated so badly.
We’ve been asked to look after the children for five days next year while mum and dad go abroad, but they can’t understand that we can’t cope just like that.
They are two girls under five and two boys under eight and we have never been allowed to babysit or even take the children to the park on our own for an hour.
We never fed or changed them as babies, yet suddenly we’re expected to look after four very boisterous children for five days in our own house at half-term.
This is a no-win situation, but when it causes dissent between me and my husband I just don’t know what to do.
- Maureen
Regular readers know how exercised I get about situations like this, but it’s a no-win for me, too.
If I say I believe that sons owe a duty to their parents as well as their wives and that daughters-in-law should show basic respect and courtesy, then I get angry letters from daughters-in-law who tell me how insufferable their mothers-in-law are.
If I counsel forbearance, saying the older generation has to put up and shut up, since the alternative (not seeing the grandchildren at all) is too awful — then I get cross letters from parents who wonder why I don’t consider them worthy of respect.
Here’s what I think. Your son is feeble to tolerate his rude wife staying in bed when his parents visit.
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week.
Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk.
A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.
To all daughters-in-law reading this, I say unequivocally that no matter how much your in-laws irritate you, they are the people who gave birth to the man you married and therefore they are in your life and you should make an effort — if for no other reason than the children deserve a good example.
Unless the grandparents are truly disgusting people who are drunk, foul-mouthed, rude etc there is no reason not to be polite and welcoming when they visit. What’s more, your children have a right to know their grandparents, because this can be such a rich relationship — given a chance.
Maureen, if you have never looked after those young children you simply can’t have them to stay while their selfish parents swan off to New York. I just don’t see how it can work.
If I were you I’d tell them the doctor has said it would put too much strain on your husband’s heart and is therefore impossible. If they take umbrage then I suggest you contrive to see your son on his own, and tell him calmly how all this is making you feel.
You say you are close to him — if that’s the case surely he must feel anguish at the way his wife treats you? Mind you, many men seem afraid of their wives and just opt for the easy life.
Yet if all of us put the welfare of the children firmly at the centre of all our thoughts we would be much more aware of our behaviour.
You would realise that you just have to take a deep breath and make sure your husband sees those grandchildren you both love — because ultimately it’s not about your (justifiable) feelings of hurt.
You have to be pleasantly firm and not allow yourself to be exploited in the future, but please your husband by arranging a visit. Could you not take the children to a panto, or something like that? I’m afraid you have to swallow your pride and mend this.
As for that daughter-in-law — my message to her is this: If you want favours, my girl, then be sure you earn them.
And finally, if you want to be happy... be nice
Last week I wrote about the first birthday of Esther Rantzen’s important charity The Silver Line, which offers a vital listening ear to lonely older people.
I’m returning to it because of something thought-provoking in its press release.
Esther — who knows much about human nature after a long career in the public eye and the establishment of Childline — says this: ‘The first lesson for all of us, including me at the age of 74, is “be nice”. Nobody wants the company of someone who is grumpy, critical or complaining . . .’
That’s true — and made me wonder if it’s actually possible to develop self-awareness enough to ‘be nice’. Can people rein in self-pity and make an effort to smile?
There are lots of grumpy people, of all ages. The other day I was talking to a woman in her late 20s who told me how her mother-in-law is always moaning that her son never phones her.
This truly delightful, warm young wife added: ‘I said to her, “Why don’t you phone him? He’d love you to ask what he’s been doing in work . . .” ’
That mother can’t be very old, if her son is about 30, yet already she’s settled into complaining about life. I find myself thinking she’s just the kind of person who ends up writing to an advice column because she feels alone/neglected/hurt.
To be honest, sometimes letters like that make me feel sympathetic, but wonder what went wrong.
Is the fault always with the selfish young — or do older people too easily slip into self-absorption, endlessly talking about themselves, moaning and never asking a single question of anyone else?
The point is: none of us should feel entitled to affection and attention.
As you sow, so shall you reap, as the Bible says. Or ‘The love you take is equal to the love you make’ in the lyrics of The Beatles’ song The End.
Esther is quite right. Smile. Offer praise. Ask questions. Live in the present, not the past. Try to be the sort of person you would love to have as a friend. It’s never too late to change. So be nice.
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Published: 00:00 GMT, 6 December 2014 | Updated: 00:00 GMT, 6 December 2014
White butterfly darting among pinks - whose spirit?
From Sninkichi, a Japanese haiku master 1901-1987
Dear Bel,
I’m writing because I feel I’m already your friend, having just read your memoir about loss and your little dog. My Jack Russell does give me some comfort, like your book.
I’m a nurse aged 48, off work due to a recent bereavement. Three months ago my darling 23-year-old son died after accidentally taking an overdose of so-called ‘legal highs’: drugs and alcohol.
This year I also suffered another loss, though not as serious. I had a relationship with a much younger man (28). We’d been together for five years and I loved him very much, even though we agreed there was no future, due to the age gap.
He met a woman his own age and finished with me — exactly 12 days before the death of my son.
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'I feel enormous guilt about my son’s death, as if I could have done more for him and somehow prevented his death' I am now completely bereft and suffering from deep depression. I long for my son, and I long for the happy days which were only months ago. I am at a loss how to move my life forward and feel that there is nothing left for me on this earth.
Do you think going back to work is the answer? It requires emotional strength which I’m not sure I have at the moment. At times I have thoughts of suicide, but I’m too much of a coward and would feel guilty about leaving family (father and siblings) and friends to suffer as I am now.
I feel enormous guilt about my son’s death, as if I could have done more for him and somehow prevented his death.
I really needed the support of my ex-boyfriend and his family but he washed his hands of the whole situation, immersing himself in his new relationship. Due to his cold, unsympathetic attitude, I told him not to come to my son’s funeral.
My GP has prescribed antidepressants, but to little effect. I’m also in touch with Cruse, but things aren’t getting easier. My ex-husband and I keep in touch as he is the only other person in the world who feels this terrible loss as I do.
To sum up: I was a happy, confident person, enjoying my work and in love, but my whole life changed in a matter of months. I had a good relationship with my son and miss him terribly. I feel I’m being cruelly punished by God but don’t know what I’ve done. Please can you tell me how to carry on?
- Elaine
Once upon a time, in a pit of despair and consumed by terrible loss and confusion, a woman I know cried out to a friend: ‘I haven’t deserved this.’
The tough-minded friend just shrugged and pointed out that if it were a matter of justice, then bad things would never happen to good people.
Then the sad woman fell silent, remembering how, many years earlier, when her baby was stillborn, she had railed at the heavens with the universal question: ‘Why me?’ Only to hear her own voice whisper the reply: ‘Why not me?’
That woman’s face (somewhat older now) is at the top of this page. Twenty-eight years separated the two crises and the last one happened 11 years ago — yet I am no further along the road to understanding and cannot offer glib words of comfort. Because there are none.
Sooner or later all of us will have to confront the reality: that the universe is randomly cruel, just as it also showers unexpected blessings.
It’s much easier for the atheist who doesn’t seek to pin the blame for ‘punishment’. But if you do believe in a God, the hardest thing is to accept that pain is dished out without reference to sin or goodness. It just is.
You suffered the most terrible loss a parent can imagine, and we all feel we should be able to cast a magic cloak over our children, keeping them safe. Yet we can’t. Your son was in charge of his own life, so please don’t make yourself responsible — because it won’t help you.
I would like you to get hold of a little book called When Bad Things Happen To Good People, by Harold S. Kushner. Written after the death of the Rabbi’s son 37 years ago, it’s been continuously in print ever since, read by people of all faiths and none, trying to make sense of suffering.
Still available, the book is easy to read and I believe it might help.
The ending of your relationship was a cruel blow and I wish your ex-boyfriend could have found it in himself to be compassionate. I assume he was consumed with guilt (as well as new passion) and that resulted in his failure. I sympathise so much, but you have no choice but to go on living — not just for the sake of those who love you, but because every breath you take, every sunset you see, every merry wag of your dog’s tail, the scent of hyacinth, the sound of music … all such things will now be experienced by you for your son’s sake.
You cannot bring him back but you can carry him forward in your life, within your own heart.
You have many years ahead of you, and who knows what good things you will experience within them? What new people you may meet? What new love you might find?
These are still early days, so please don’t expect too much of yourself. This time next year you won’t feel the same anguish, so hold on.
I do think it would be good for you to return to work, because you have a noble profession — and I’d like to think that the sharing and helping and sense of community you find through nursing will help you. I hope so.
Why is our daughter in law so rude?
Dear Bel,
We are close to our son, who has four beautiful children whom we adore — but more and more we’re being denied access.
We are never invited over, unless it’s to do something, help clear the garden, put up shelves etc. When we do go, my daughter-in-law stays in bed and never acknowledges us.
If other family members are present she’ll get up, but totally ignore us, to the point that it causes embarrassment to all.
We’ve tried and tried, but unless we are paying for things or doing something at her convenience we just cannot make any breakthrough.
At the last awful visit (we must arrive and leave at the specified time), she again stayed in bed, our son was harassed, and the birthday present we took was a failure (though bought to Mummy’s orders).
We ended up giving money for the birthday and taking the present home after 15 minutes despite it being a one-and-a-half-hour drive each way. My husband suffers heart problems and I was upset.
Now there’s a rift between us because he just wants to see the children but I don’t want to go over and be treated so badly.
We’ve been asked to look after the children for five days next year while mum and dad go abroad, but they can’t understand that we can’t cope just like that.
They are two girls under five and two boys under eight and we have never been allowed to babysit or even take the children to the park on our own for an hour.
We never fed or changed them as babies, yet suddenly we’re expected to look after four very boisterous children for five days in our own house at half-term.
This is a no-win situation, but when it causes dissent between me and my husband I just don’t know what to do.
- Maureen
Regular readers know how exercised I get about situations like this, but it’s a no-win for me, too.
If I say I believe that sons owe a duty to their parents as well as their wives and that daughters-in-law should show basic respect and courtesy, then I get angry letters from daughters-in-law who tell me how insufferable their mothers-in-law are.
If I counsel forbearance, saying the older generation has to put up and shut up, since the alternative (not seeing the grandchildren at all) is too awful — then I get cross letters from parents who wonder why I don’t consider them worthy of respect.
Here’s what I think. Your son is feeble to tolerate his rude wife staying in bed when his parents visit.
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week.
Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk.
A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.
To all daughters-in-law reading this, I say unequivocally that no matter how much your in-laws irritate you, they are the people who gave birth to the man you married and therefore they are in your life and you should make an effort — if for no other reason than the children deserve a good example.
Unless the grandparents are truly disgusting people who are drunk, foul-mouthed, rude etc there is no reason not to be polite and welcoming when they visit. What’s more, your children have a right to know their grandparents, because this can be such a rich relationship — given a chance.
Maureen, if you have never looked after those young children you simply can’t have them to stay while their selfish parents swan off to New York. I just don’t see how it can work.
If I were you I’d tell them the doctor has said it would put too much strain on your husband’s heart and is therefore impossible. If they take umbrage then I suggest you contrive to see your son on his own, and tell him calmly how all this is making you feel.
You say you are close to him — if that’s the case surely he must feel anguish at the way his wife treats you? Mind you, many men seem afraid of their wives and just opt for the easy life.
Yet if all of us put the welfare of the children firmly at the centre of all our thoughts we would be much more aware of our behaviour.
You would realise that you just have to take a deep breath and make sure your husband sees those grandchildren you both love — because ultimately it’s not about your (justifiable) feelings of hurt.
You have to be pleasantly firm and not allow yourself to be exploited in the future, but please your husband by arranging a visit. Could you not take the children to a panto, or something like that? I’m afraid you have to swallow your pride and mend this.
As for that daughter-in-law — my message to her is this: If you want favours, my girl, then be sure you earn them.
And finally, if you want to be happy... be nice
Last week I wrote about the first birthday of Esther Rantzen’s important charity The Silver Line, which offers a vital listening ear to lonely older people.
I’m returning to it because of something thought-provoking in its press release.
Esther — who knows much about human nature after a long career in the public eye and the establishment of Childline — says this: ‘The first lesson for all of us, including me at the age of 74, is “be nice”. Nobody wants the company of someone who is grumpy, critical or complaining . . .’
That’s true — and made me wonder if it’s actually possible to develop self-awareness enough to ‘be nice’. Can people rein in self-pity and make an effort to smile?
There are lots of grumpy people, of all ages. The other day I was talking to a woman in her late 20s who told me how her mother-in-law is always moaning that her son never phones her.
This truly delightful, warm young wife added: ‘I said to her, “Why don’t you phone him? He’d love you to ask what he’s been doing in work . . .” ’
That mother can’t be very old, if her son is about 30, yet already she’s settled into complaining about life. I find myself thinking she’s just the kind of person who ends up writing to an advice column because she feels alone/neglected/hurt.
To be honest, sometimes letters like that make me feel sympathetic, but wonder what went wrong.
Is the fault always with the selfish young — or do older people too easily slip into self-absorption, endlessly talking about themselves, moaning and never asking a single question of anyone else?
The point is: none of us should feel entitled to affection and attention.
As you sow, so shall you reap, as the Bible says. Or ‘The love you take is equal to the love you make’ in the lyrics of The Beatles’ song The End.
Esther is quite right. Smile. Offer praise. Ask questions. Live in the present, not the past. Try to be the sort of person you would love to have as a friend. It’s never too late to change. So be nice.
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'The constant carping, finding fault, denigrating my work (having this year taken on a second job) has got me down' 
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'I want to stay married mainly because we have three wonderful teenagers and can’t bear to see their lives blown apart. My husband says he loves me but cannot live with someone who has betrayed him' 
'In a perfect world I’d return to my family, but I’m afraid things will just go back to the way they were and I’ll have lost my soulmate' 
'Working out how to deal with such disappointment involves the recognition that every single one of us is fallible and also that we change throughout life — not always for the better' 
The pain I feel is almost unspeakable and I so wish I could be with him, but I know I could never cause more hurt to my wonderful daughters. I feel so sad for us and what we have lost. 
I am now disturbed because I like him, and ordinarily, as a friend, I would have told him what I heard about his wife. But the fact that I have slept with him complicates things, as he may now think I’m only saying these things because I am jealous of his wife. 
The story of how young beautician Katie Cutler raised thousands for vulnerable pensioner Alan Barnes — mugged by a vile coward — touched us all. Katie’s spirit of generosity, which inspired the same in others, made me reflect how often we encounter ordinary kindness and perhaps don’t notice. 
