An empty room, crammed made peace with her past
Author details maelstrom of emotions as she
When a loved one dies, those left behind often believe the funeral will be the hardest part but it’s only after the sandwiches have been cleared, the music chosen after hours of deliberation has faded and the black ties are back in the wardrobe that real grief begins, when the full gravity of loss weighs down.
A song on the radio, a glimpse of a treasured old photograph… those are the fleeting moments when the heartache hits, and it feels like a steamroller slowly crushing your heart.
And those are the moments when you realise life, which goes on long after your loved one has departed, will never be the same again.
For Samantha Clark, who lost both parents 18 months apart, those moments came as she cleared the house they lived in for 45 years.
It was the house Samantha called “home” from the age of two… where she learned to ride her bike, covered her bedroom walls in posters of her teenage crush, and watched her dad dedicate decades of his life to caring for her mum.
With a roof caving in, windows on the verge of falling out, and rooms bursting with a lifetime of clutter, emptying the crumbling Victorian mansion on Glasgow’s south side was an overwhelming task.
However, as she sifted through her parents’ belongings, reflecting on her mother’s sedated years and her father’s retreat to the world of amateur radio and model planes, Samantha began to unlock the secrets of her past.
And she charts the experience in a new book, The Clearing: A Memoir Of Art, Family and Mental Health.
“It took three years to clear the house, but longer still for me to come to understand the forbearance, patience and love that its rooms had held,” said Samantha. “I didn’t start out with the intention of writing a book, although that’s how it turned out.
“There’s something about writing because you have to stay with difficult feelings for quite a while instead of finding a distraction, or trying to make them go away. That process was hard but, in itself, quite healing.”
Samantha’s dad, Allan, passed away in 2011, shortly after being diagnosed with prostate cancer.
“Dad was 85 when he died, but his death wasn’t really expected,” said Samantha. “He was quite unwell, but of that generation that doesn’t like to bother the doctor.
“He probably realised it was something serious, but just soldiered on because he had mum to look after. Eventually we persuaded him to see the doctor. He was admitted to hospital the same day and deteriorated quickly. He was gone within a week.
“I had been close to my dad. He wasn’t a hugely communicative man – but had ways of showing his love. It was a really big blow. I really missed him after he had gone. There was also a feeling of compassion for him. He had cared for mum for so long.”
Samantha’s mum, Wynne, died a year and a half later.
“People say you can die of a broken heart,” she said. “The diagnosis was pneumonia, but I think losing dad was a contributing factor.
“My grief after mum’s death was different. I didn’t cry. I knew I loved her