Why Do Bereaved People Fundraise?

This is something I was asked the other day as part of a conversation requested by a company doing research for a charity. I’ve taken part in a couple of these conversations since losing Ben; and it was nice to be able to voice my thoughts to someone, in the hope of helping others to understand the path of a bereaved parent a little better.

So, why do people who are bereaved fundraise? The general perceived belief by those who are perhaps not in this exclusive club, is that people who have lost someone close, fundraise as part of the grieving process. I thought about this for a moment and while my initial reaction was to say ‘no, it isn’t …,’ I believe the answer is perhaps ‘yes and no.’

Losing a child is so horrendous a trauma, that it is difficult to find the right words, but, as with grief, everyone’s experience of loss and the circumstances surrounding that loss, is unique.

I explained to the researcher that for some, it is simply too much to contemplate helping others in any way when they are simply having to try and keep themselves afloat when they’ve lost a child. That’s not to say they might not wish to help raise funds for those in need somewhere in the future, but if you could stop right now, as you are reading this and imagine for just a moment living without one of your children, or one of the children in your life. It’s not something you can really imagine, is it? Not really. And I can speak from experience when I say that most of the time, it’s a completely surreal existence.

I was chatting with my mum the other day and just told her quietly that while I might look okay on the outside, the reality is, most of us grievers do. I am living my life, loving my life, grabbing the opportunities when they are there and running with them. I’m adoring being mum to all three of my children, loving time with my girls (when I’m cool enough in their eyes!) and treasuring time walking with the woofers and occasionally my darling husband, out in nature. How blessed we are to be living in such a beautiful part of the world. It looks like I’m coping in this new, awful normal existence. I live, yes; and I love my life. Don’t get me wrong. But I am also screaming into the void inside my head and heart and into the world every minute of every day, unable to quantify what’s just happened. Yes, two and a half years still equate to ‘what’s just happened.’ I do my best to support the girls and I ache for my three bundles of sparkle and light to be all growing up together. I worry incessantly, to the point of distraction on occasion, which drives the girls, especially my eldest up the wall. It actually drives me up the wall, too, but that’s grief. So I do Qi Gong in the morning, I take CBD oil and ashwaghanda and on the odd occasion, I meditate. This all helps to quel the hugely annoying parental nagging I feel the need to do at every turn, allowing my girls a bit of peace and quiet! Sorry, bears!

So, back to the question … why do we fundraise, those of us who have lost children?

Yes, it could be part of the grieving process. After all, we are grieving for the rest of our lives. The loss is no less impactful after two years, five years, fifty years. It feels like all time and no time in equal measure. I don’t think it’s all just because of the grieving process. Grieving is exhausting. It’s love; holding on and letting go at the same time, treading water in an ocean with no land in sight. It’s taking a leap into the unknown, where one of you has leapt into a new adventure and the rest of you feel like you didn’t leap all together and not at the same time. You didn’t see that coming.

Bereavement is vulnerability, fear, anxiety, loneliness, heartbreak, love, depression, sadness, exhaustion, fragility and strength. Bizarrely, I sometimes feel like it makes us extraordinary human beings, strong and not in the way someone tells you, ‘oh, you are so strong about all this …’ No. I mean, in some way, like a super power. Maybe it’s because my son, Ben loved Marvel and the Avengers so much.

In the days before he died he said he’d look down on all the statues I built in his name. He was twelve and I was forty seven. He was handing me the baton and now, I’m running with it.

Fundraising for me gives me purpose and helps me find ways to grieve creatively. It also brings people together, brings laughter, meaning and really helps to make a difference to others. I’ve always wanted to help others in my life and if Ben hadn’t died, I doubt I’d be doing all I am now, though I’d like to think I would be still reaching out to those who needed it in some way. Fundraising keeps me going and I do love the feeling it brings to others, as well as the way it makes me feel. I recall the episode in Friends where Phoebe is trying desperately to do a selfless task and she just can’t because she always feels so good when she does something for others.

When we have raised funds and created Ben’s Epic Christmas Boxes or vouchers in the time of Covid, there has been a little buzz in the house, a feeling of excitement in the air. Last year, we raised enough for Lego boxes for the children in the three hospitals where Ben was treated. When we arrived in Bristol at the charity across the road of the hospital on Christmas Eve, the excitement was palpable. It’s always emotional, but I do really feel that Ben would love what we’re trying to do each year. It’s a statue. The girls are supportive and like to see what’s happening, but teenage years are the years of discovery, fun and friendship and they let mum and dad get on with the packing and delivering.

I enjoy fundraising. I ran the Great South Run with a dear friend, just ten weeks after Ben had died. I don’t know, looking back, how I did it, but I did. We handed out DKMS Rocks to passers by, we giggled, walked, jogged and staggered (that was me!) round the ten miles in Portsmouth. Nearing the finish line, The Rock Choir were singing Mr Blue Sky, one of our family favourites and that, to me, was a sign that Ben had been alongside me for the entirety; and it spurred me on to sprint over the finish line, as I imagined him there, beaming.

We, bereaved do these things because our children matter. Their lives matter. All of our children matter. We want our children to live, even if it’s by celebrating the short lives they had, by creating a legacy of kindness. Ben wanted to help other children in his situation and never wanted to be defined by cancer.

In fundraising, it’s not about remaining in that time of cancer. I will not be defined by cancer and neither will our family, but fundraising is a way to give back to those who helped us; and because we know what it feels like to be a rabbit in headlights. We know how it feels to be scared; and recognise that things can change from a curative to a palliative path in a moment under those circumstances.

We also know the effect that kindness and intention for good has on those who need it. I also believe that our children, all three of them, grew up so quickly and grew in a wisdom that you only find in a lifetime of experience, in the space of fourteen months. Our children have experienced so much in their short lives, that it gives us, as parents, the capacity to lead by their example and to be a force for good and for change in the world, so that our girls can have the childhood they so crave and Ben can hopefully see all we are trying to do, while he strides the stars.

In the months and years now that we have been living without Ben physically with us, so much has changed. Life moves on; but I wouldn’t say that we move on. We move with our grief and with our love and with our memories.

It’s amazing what the strength of love can do when something so tragic has happened. Love is courageous and vulnerable and so, so powerful; a rock. A weighted piece of precious gold; the most stable of foundations, unwavering and steady. It is the greatest platform from which to build a statue, share a gift, offer a light for others.

If that equates to fundraising, whether it be leaping out of an aeroplane, setting up donor drives for the stem cell registry, walking the South Downs, starting a podcast (@magicalmatchpod), running a marathon, creating Ben’s Epic Christmas Boxes every year for the rest of my life … and what a blessing to be able to think about all the opportunities we could have in the future to help others!

If it makes even the tiniest difference in someone’s life; if it brings a smile of joy and a sparkle of light to someone’s day, then I will continue to do it in my son’s name, for him, for my beautiful girls, for the children and families still going through so much, for the rest of my days on this earth … and then some! xxx

Walking the South Downs Way for Ben’s Epic Christmas Boxes - September 2021