"I read that you shouldn't let a tragedy define you, but I feel that Sarah's death is such a big part of me that I'm surprised there is no outer sign of it, no obvious mark of grief. I have been changed by it, but there is nothing to see. Outwardly we live our normal lives, but there is an inner sadness. People who do know are unfailingly kind and have helped more than they will ever know."
"After four years, the shock of Sarah's death has diminished but we are left with an overwhelming sense of loss and what might have been. All the happy, ordinary things of life have been stolen from Sarah and from us there will be no wedding, no grandchildren, no family celebrations with everyone there. Sarah will always be missing and I will always long for her."
"I go through a turmoil of emotions sadness, rage, panic, guilt and numbness. They used to come all in one day but as time goes by they are more widely spaced and, to some extent, time blunts the edges. I am not yet at the point where happy memories of Sarah come to the fore. When I think of her, I can't get past the horror of her last hours. I am still tormented by the thought of what she endured."
A damning inquiry finds critical failures to answer basic questions about sexual violence, including the absence of reliable data on how many women are raped by strangers each year. A bereaved mother, Sue Everard, describes enduring torment over her 33-year-old daughter's final hours, an inner sadness hidden beneath outward normality, and the loss of future family milestones such as weddings and grandchildren. Grief manifests unpredictably as sadness, rage, panic, guilt and numbness; intense waves have become more spaced over time but remain piercing. The mother reports that acceptance remains elusive and vivid horror of the daughter's last hours still dominates recollections.
Read at www.standard.co.uk
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