How time flies! My first piece for the Isle of Man Examiner was in December 2020.

In it, I referred to an event which had a profound effect on my life - which I share again in this piece.

The principal reason being that in time, following such tragedies, whilst never forgetting, you have to come to terms with the reality of the situation and get on with life.

In this respect, a number in our community show much more empathy for those who suffer mental health issues today than was previously the norm, in my opinion.

On Wednesday, May 21, it is 50 years since the traumatic event that affected my life.

All those years ago, aged 21, I had gone to bed fairly early. There was a knock on the door and I answered it, still only half awake.

A friend was at the door and was clearly in a distressed state. He is no longer with us so I cannot ask, but I never found out how he had been informed of the news he was passing on to me. Clearly, at the time, that was the last thing on my mind.

He told me that my girlfriend Jackie was dead as a result of a road traffic accident where she fell from a pavement into the path of a car. She was 18 years old, and we had been going out for three years.

No one should lose their life at 18. I struggled to take it in and rushed upstairs to get dressed in outside clothes.

I lived in Westminster Drive and, at that time, old Noble’s was in Westmoreland Road.

I ran, in a confused state, to the hospital and after speaking to someone, I was allowed into the room where she was lying. She had lost her life instantly, and I couldn’t believe it at the time.

But it subsequently became something of a slight comfort that there was little visible evidence of the accident. Slight scratches on her face, but nothing else. The injuries that took her life were not immediately evident.

In the time following the tragedy, I could not comprehend any future without her.

I made ill-advised decisions, looking back. The view of some of those who I came into contact with was not one of understanding.

Instead, the response was critical of my actions. There was a suggestion that I might seek help, but males, in particular of my generation, often declined such support as it was not considered the right thing to do. Instead, I bottled up my feelings and sought comfort in overindulgence of alcohol… it is never the answer!

I went through a period of not being a nice person, and more recently have apologised to some of those who came into contact with the ‘then me’.

My lifestyle choices also had a detrimental effect on my employment. I worked for the IoM Post Office Authority as a postman - a job I really enjoyed - which required my attendance at the sorting office at 6am.

Late nights did not sit well with the discipline required for early starts, and I was offered alternative hours for a time. But when I returned to my previous hours, I started being late again. Eventually, the patience of management wore out and I was sacked.

I sometimes wonder whether, with today’s more focused emphasis on traumatic experiences and mental health issues, there may have been a different outcome and understanding - including more support from my trade union, of which I had been a representative. But there really is little benefit in dwelling on what might have been.

Instead, let’s look at one particular outcome of the tragedy that positively benefited my life and that of my family.

Imagine, if you can, a mum widowed at a young age with three girls - and one of those, her youngest, who she had brought into the world, losing her life at 18.

Jacqueline’s mum, Alice Fayle, and her two sisters Frances and Hilda, and their husbands Harry and Dennis, remained as family to me.

Indeed, Alice was a real mum to me.

My own daughters had the benefit of three nanas, and Nana Alice treated them as if they were her own.

The last regret was that Alice was looking forward to dancing at my daughter Sarah’s wedding, but didn’t make it. However, a beautiful butterfly landed on her wedding dress outside the church, so maybe she did make it after all?

For me, nature in all forms on our island — and music — are priceless therapies.

In what other ways did events equip me for the future? Eventually, my life turned around - so much thanks to a number of people, especially Viv and Michael Hooper, who gave me work when I was sacked, including as a DJ in their disco ‘Allsorts’, the island’s only purpose-built under-18s disco in 1976, and as shop manager in Moochers, which led me on to operate my own businesses in Strand Street.

Then, in 1985, I was elected as an MHK. I was never the greatest speaker, but my life experiences equipped me with the empathy to help others in need.

They were called upon on a number of occasions, including supporting a family whose son and brother was suffering from mental health issues and had threatened to take his own life. I made representations when the family felt they were not being listened to, and he was admitted.

Unfortunately, several days later, he was out of care and took his own life.

I raised the subject of suicide on the island in Tynwald in 1991 after we lost Andrew and others, and a report was provided.

I had to raise the subject again over the years - most recently nearly 30 years on, as chair of the Social Affairs Policy Committee, where reports and recommendations were made. Sadly, we still have lives lost and families with questions unanswered.

When I was the shop manager for Moochers in Wellington Street, I met a family who had connections with the café next door, and we became lifelong friends. Three lovely kids - Shirley, Eddie, and Michael - who now have families of their own. They have now been touched by tragedy, as in June, Ed took his own life.

To the world, Eddie had it all - a loving family and success in business. But what he didn’t have was great mental health. His family have set up a charity, Ed Space, and they say: ‘We want to let people learn a lesson from his passing.

‘Suicide is not a dirty word. It should not be whispered. We could not save Eddie, but we can save another family from going through this horrendous time. Please talk to one another. There is nothing to be ashamed of by telling someone you are suffering.’

The family have started Ed’s Man Club, where men can come together and discuss their feelings and struggles. To combat the silent epidemic of poor mental health on the island, Ed’s Man Club offers a space where, by sharing stories, offering empathy, and understanding, men can feel less alone in their struggles.

It is so good that they - and other island organisations - offer a potential lifeline to those who need it, when they need it.