I was asked yesterday, what vision i foresaw for this blog and what direction i wanted it to go in. I stopped for a moment to ponder on this question, before replying. I simply want to share my story, giving words to an unimaginable tragedy that impacts not only your physical health but also your mental wellbeing.
In sharing I hope to connect with others impacted by murder. In the beginning I was consumed with nothingness, I had no words just mental torture. I was told how to respond as I was a mum to four living children. yet I was unable to express how I died being a mother to one murdered child.
Guilt for wanting death silenced me, madness plagued me. I withdrew into myself unsure if anyone wanted to hear my broken record of heartache. i knew no one at the time who had endured this suffering to ask the many questions that had formed in my mind.
Before the funeral waves of support ripple over you. After the funeral It slows down. This for me was when the true battle begun, The planning was over, auto pilot pauses, then the waves of sorrow comes in and hits your shores hard.
Back then I had no words to describe how I felt, everyone appeared to be living, no one really spoke about the tragedy as now we planned a murder trial. The murderers and possible motives were topic of conversation, not the real raw impact of death.
I hope to give words now to some of these feelings and emotions so others do not feel so Isolated and alone. Death cuts us all no matter how we lose our loved ones. I am reaching out to everyone impacted by murder, whether you are the family of the victim, or the perpetrator I would like to hear your stories and stand hand in hand. No matter what side of the fence you stand on we are all victims. Through breaking the silence we can all survive death and live again with purpose.
I start at the beginning with an extract from my book. My phone rings i answer then I hear ……..
This is followed by tears and screams. I can hear Kyron’s Dad crying, groaning…. I am stunned what is going on, I feel a little dazed. I am just sitting in stunned silence,
‘Kyron’s dead!’ he says again
I adjust myself on the sofa, ‘Don’t be silly! Where is my son?’ “Put Kyron on the phone” I say, still in disbelief. Then I hear more screams, I remove the handset from my ear and stare at the phone. I am trying to contemplate if this is actually real, is this actually happening? I bring the handset to my ear again and hear his dads groan “oh Gosh, they killed him” I hear him say “they killed my Kyron”.
‘He’s dead, he’s dead, they killed Kyron; they stabbed up Kyron!’ he continues to shout. Then more cries. My brain is trying to process the words I seem to be hearing over and over again. Kyron’s dad’s voice seems to be in a distance, its fading away. I cannot hear him anymore. In fact I cannot hear anything. I look at the television; I see the lips moving but hear no sound. I think I may be going into shock.
Everything is spinning; I stand up. I hear my voice. ‘Where is he? What hospital is he in?’ Still in disbelief I await a response. Nausea is rising.
There was no answer; just screams; tears; wailing. I ask again irritation now forming “What hospital is he in?” he is speaking now; I take down the name, Manchester Royal infirmary. With a muttered thank you. I hang up, frozen in shock I start to call the hospital in Manchester. I am becoming frustrated as no one will help me, no one will speak to me due to data protection and patient confidentiality. A voice is telling me they are unable to give out information over the phone. Maybe she has not heard what I just said. I repeat myself, trying to steady my voice. I am going to cry “My son has been stabbed, I believe he is there and just need to know if he is okay, Is he still alive? “I can feel my heart pounding in my mouth, my insides turning; nausea washing over me. I am really dizzy. Still wondering is this even real.
“Please can you just confirm if he was brought in as a patient? I am his mum, I live in London, and I am far away”. I am crying now “Please can you just help me?, I just want to know if he is there?” “Sorry we cannot give out information over the phone” is their response.
I cannot focus; I am struggling to breathe, this is so surreal. Was this a prank? A call is coming through. It’s a private number. I hang up and answer it and then I hear,
‘Hello, is this Kyron Webb’s mum?’ I hear a Manchester accent
I answer, ‘Yes, this is she.’
The voice at the other end of my phone says, ‘I am (the name left); there has been an accident. Kyron has been hurt and has sustained life threatening injuries. I understand you’re in London. Can you come to the hospital? “Yes, how is he”, is all I say
“has a doctor or nurse spoken to you?’
‘No,’ I say.
‘Hold on, I will get someone to speak to you,’ responds the stranger on the phone.
Then I hear another voice. ‘Ma’am, your son has been in an accident. He has sustained life-threatening injuries. You need to come now; he is in a very critical condition.’ Her voice trails away, everything is fuzzy, and it’s becoming a blur.
I cannot hear her. It’s the police again, ‘If we can blue-light you, can you come now?’
‘Yes of course,’ I say. I drop the phone.
It’s a daze. I dress; I call one of my sisters and relay the discussions I have just had,. Still in disbelief I say, “Kyron has been stabbed, they say he is dead, but I know they are lying, all the same, please arrange for someone to take me Manchester now. “I will call around now” she says. The line goes dead. I do not stop to think how my words may have impacted her. How the news may have punched her idyllic evening, into a horror scene.
You see reader, it only takes a second for your world to be turned upside down. Life is promised to no man.
The paperback edition of my book “Kyron: Hello Madness Goodbye Joy” is live in the Amazon Store. It is available for you to purchase via this link https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1728855977/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1540203435&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_FMwebp_QL65&keywords=hello+madness&dpPl=1&dpID=41k45GKLllL&ref=plSrch