Guardian Funeralcare

07/03/2026

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you onboard! Denims Dizon, Salvatore Piro, Gregory Derek Lennon, Jay Goodlow, Chris Siddons, Salvatore Perucci, Valentino Cesari, Manuel Marinho, Brad Jones, Mollie King, Peter J Ryan, Bulelani Skalk

04/03/2026

Shout out to my newest followers! Thank you for your support. Denims Dizon, Salvatore Piro, Gregory Derek Lennon, Jay Goodlow, Chris Siddons, Salvatore Perucci, Valentino Cesari, Manuel Marinho, Brad Jones, Mollie King, Peter J Ryan, Bulelani Skalk

03/03/2026

I hope this helps others who are struggling
We are always here for a chat or a cup of tea never feel your own your own.

The Woman I Became After Losing Them.

Grief didn’t knock politely at my door.
It kicked it in.
I didn’t just lose people.
I lost my mum. My dad.
I lost my first born son.
I lost my only sister.
I didn’t lose distant relatives. I lost my world.
The people who shaped me. The ones who knew me before life hardened me. The ones who shared my history, my blood, my beginning. When they went, it wasn’t just loss , it was amputation.
And something inside me went with them.
People talk about grief like it’s sadness.
It’s not sadness.
It’s a complete dismantling of who you were.
Losing a parent is earth-shifting.
Losing a sister is like losing your mirror , the one who carried your childhood with you.
But losing a child… losing your first born son… there are no words strong enough for that. That kind of grief rewrites your DNA.
It’s waking up and forgetting for a split second , then remembering.
It’s your stomach dropping every single morning.
It’s the silence where their voice should be.
It’s the birthdays that come around like cruel reminders.
It’s reaching for your phone to text them and realising there is nowhere for that love to go.
That’s the cruel part.
The love has nowhere to land.
The darkest days?
They weren’t poetic. They weren’t graceful.
They were heavy. Dark. breath-stealing.
I’ve felt anxiety grip my chest so tight I thought I was dying.
I’ve felt my heart race like it was trying to escape my body.
I’ve stared at walls for hours because moving felt impossible.
I’ve smiled at people while my insides were collapsing.
Grief is lonely in a way that’s hard to explain. Even when you’re surrounded by people, you feel like you’re on another planet. Life carries on for everyone else. The world doesn’t pause. Cars still drive past. People still laugh in supermarkets. And you’re stood there thinking, How are you all functioning when my world ended?
No one tells you that grief rewires you.
It changes your nervous system.
It changes your patience.
It changes your tolerance.
It changes your identity.
I don’t think I’ve just “missed” them.
I’ve had to rebuild without them.
And rebuilding is brutal.
There were days I didn’t recognise myself.
Short-tempered. Numb. Distant.
Other days I felt too much — every emotion dialled up to unbearable.
I questioned my sanity.
I questioned my strength.
I questioned whether I’d ever feel normal again.
Because who loses their first born child and carries on?
Who buries their only sister and still gets up the next morning?
Who stands at their parents’ funerals and then returns to a house that feels unbearably quiet?
Someone who doesn’t have a choice.
You don’t go back to who you were.
That version of you existed in a world where they were still alive.
So I had to build someone new.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I had to.
The “new me” isn’t softer. She’s deeper.
She feels everything.
She sees pain in other people quicker.
She has less tolerance for fake conversations and shallow connections.
Grief stripped me.
It exposed every crack in my mental health.
It forced me to look at parts of myself I’d avoided for years.
There were days I genuinely didn’t know how I was going to get through the next hour. And yet somehow I did. Not because I was strong. But because there was no alternative.
Survival is ugly sometimes.
But somewhere in that survival, something changed.
I stopped pretending I was fine.
I stopped minimising my pain.
I stopped apologising for how deeply I feel.
Losing my first born son changed the way I breathe.
Losing my sister changed the way I remember childhood.
Losing my parents changed the way I see safety.
There are still days the grief hits like it happened yesterday. Grief doesn’t expire. It just changes shape.
Some days I don’t understand myself.
Why certain dates undo me.
Why I can be strong one minute and completely broken the next.
Why I carry both gratitude and devastation in the same heartbeat.
But I do know this:
I am not the same woman I was before I lost my family.
I am heavier with memory.
I am softer with other people’s pain.
I am stronger in ways I never asked to be.
Grief didn’t just break me.
It rebuilt me.
And although I would give anything , anything , to have my son, my sister, my mum and dad back… I carry them differently now. In my resilience. In my compassion. In the way I sit with other people in their darkest hours without flinching.
This version of me was born from ashes.
From hospital corridors.
From funeral days.
From nights crying into pillows so no one could hear.
It’s not a version I chose.
But it’s a version that survived.
And some days, that has to be enough.

Please feel free to share even if it helps one person out there .

Love

Alison

19/02/2026

🌸 In Loving Memory of Mrs Joan Bell 🌸
It is with great sadness that we announce the peaceful passing of Mrs Joan Bell, who passed away on 15th February 2026, aged 94 years.
Joan lived a long and cherished life and will be deeply missed by all who knew and loved her. Her memory will remain forever in the hearts of her family and friends.
Funeral Service
Shay Grange Crematorium
Thursday 12th March 2026
3:00pm
🕊️ The family kindly ask that those attending wear a pop of colour in memory of Joan.
Family flowers only, please.
Following the service, all are warmly invited to join the family for light refreshments at:
Woodbottom Club
Baildon Bridge
68 Otley Road
Baildon, Shipley
BD17 7EP
The family have kindly given permission for this memorial to be shared.

15/02/2026

Thank you to Hugs and hounds dog grooming for looking after these two today ❤️.
And all the ham ...they said they will be back!

11/02/2026

GEORGE VINCENT
Aged 79 years
It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of
George Vincent, who died peacefully on 4th February 2026, aged 79.

George was a true gentleman , strong in character, and deeply loved by his family and friends. He lived a full life, leaving behind memories that will be treasured, stories that will be retold, and a legacy of warmth that will never fade.
He will be sadly missed and forever remembered by all who had the privilege of knowing him.
Funeral Service
Shay Grange Crematorium
Thursday 5th March
12.45pm
Following the service, all are warmly invited to join the family at
Saltaire Social Club to continue sharing memories of George’s life.
Family flowers only please.
Donations in George’s memory may be made to Marie Curie Hospice.
All enquiries to:
Guardian Funeralcare
01274 595906
The family have kindly given their permission for this obituary to be shared.
Please feel free to share with those who knew George.

07/02/2026

05/02/2026

Thank you Action team Wakefield for a great evening.

04/02/2026

We will never forget ❤️

I don’t forget them.
Not for a second.
Grief doesn’t fade the way people think it does. It doesn’t shrink neatly with time. It just learns how to sit quietly beside you while you carry on breathing.
I carry my dad in the way I still look for his voice when things feel hard.
I carry my son in every moment my heart aches for what should have been, the future he never got to live.
And I carry my sister in the silence where her laughter should still be.
There are days I function, smile, work, care for others and people think that means I’m “strong” or “coping.” But the truth is, love never leaves. And when love is this deep, pain never fully leaves either.
I don’t want to forget them.
Forgetting would feel like losing them again.
So I carry them. In my heart. In my work. In the way I hold space for other people’s grief, because I know, in my bones, what it feels like when your world changes forever.
This is life after loss.
You don’t move on.
You learn to live with love that hurts, and somehow, still keeps you going.
Alison 🤍

Some losses don’t fade with time.They don’t disappear — they just change how we carry them.This song is for anyone who kept going, even when the world moved ...

03/02/2026

Well done for coming so far to the whole of the Guardian Funeralcare 👏 you all did amazing 👏