My daughter collapsed and died before my eyes. I learned British Sign Language to process my grief

In 2023 my eldest daughter, Sarah, suddenly died of cardiac arrest while delivering a eulogy to her late father-in-law. His coffin lay at the front of Slough Crematorium. Her collapse was witnessed by some 150 members of the congregation, including myself and other family members. Sarah was a 39-year-old oncology nurse who also ran her own aesthetics clinic in Windsor. She left behind a partner and three children. There had been no previous history of heart trouble, and the reasons for her death have still not been fully explained.

The horror of witnessing this had a profound effect on the physical and mental wellbeing of Sarah’s family, including me. I had been hard of hearing for about 20 years, but the absolute shock of seeing my daughter drop dead in front of my eyes worsened my condition.

Within a year of this tragic event, I was able to seize the opportunity to learn British Sign Language (BSL). The course was free, sponsored by Groundwork North Wales and was being delivered in my local community library, which had been saved from closure a decade earlier by the joint action of the adjacent secondary school and local volunteers.

The BSL journey I have been on over the last two years has helped me face my worst demons. It forced me to discuss sensitive subjects such as family and holidays in a different medium – and to do so with the full support of an excellent BSL teacher and what became an amazingly supportive group of new friends. Through it I was able to reconnect with people, face the reality of my daughter’s loss, and develop a new skill in communicating with others.

At first I found it very hard work, precisely because I needed to take in a lot more information at a time when my brain needed to rest. It also presented particular challenges because BSL involved signed discussions about topics which touched on significant events that included reference to my daughter. At one stage we all sat in small groups and each of us signed about our family members. 

When it came to my turn my hands froze. I felt I simply could not forget Sarah; it would have been a betrayal. I could not act as if she had not been an important part of my life. I had to mention her in my signing, but it was painful to do so. 

Eventually I came out with it. I signed: “In the past I had two daughters but one daughter died of cardiac arrest.”

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One member of the group already knew. I had met her before at an event involving the Scouts and she probably read since about Sarah in the tabloids, which all covered the story. 

The BSL teacher also picked up on my signing immediately and recognised my dilemma. She quietly gave me helpful advice that enabled me to carry on with some of the other sensitive signing hurdles that I faced.

Over the two years of Signature Level One and Signature Level Two, things became much easier. My involvement in BSL has gradually helped to make my memories less overwhelming. 

BSL became a means by which I could create a narrative about my loss, which was part of the healing process. Perhaps it helped because there is a tendency for men not to seek help from others. This was certainly the case for me. I was blessed with a marvellous group of BSL students who appreciated my position. 

This new group of friends also played an important part in my healing. I was learning to reconnect with people.

I was not one of the best at BSL. However, I came to see that the journey, rather than the destination, was what mattered. My confidence in signing grew hand-in-hand with my adjustment to a world in which my daughter was absent.

For me, BSL has become an important jigsaw piece in filling the gap created by her death. The courses allowed me to begin living again without feeling that I am leaving the person I loved behind.

I would never advocate BSL as a panacea for grief and I did not learn BSL to overcome grief. I learned it because I was losing my hearing. But looking back, I realise it gave me something else as well: a way of speaking about my loss when words had become too painful. It is possible that learning any new language, or taking part in some other course, may lead to similar, unexpected benefits for a grieving person. I am grateful that there are opportunities for accessible adult education.

Groundwork North Wales

Find courses online at Signature

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