Twice.
First time was my mum. She suffered with MS from 1994 until her death in 2008. At the end, we were at her bed side when she breathed her last breath. It was the first time I had seen somebody die. As it was mum, it had a huge physiological impact on me. I pretend for years that I was fine, but her death haunted me and still does to this day. This because of the guilt I felt for not telling mum of my dad's betrayal. For this, I'll always have the ghost of my mum haunting me. I'll always remember not how she used to be, but of her struggling to breathe on her death bed.
The second time was just as bad.
My uncle died from cancer in 2011. My Uncle and I were very close. He was more of a father to me than my real dad. He taught me how to swim. Showed me the wonders of the universe with his telescope. Took me places I could only dream of as a kid. But through the years we not only grew apart, but actually grew a dislike for each other.
The reason for this was because of my sister and my uncles adopted daughter. They were, for some reason, jealous of the relationship I had with him and my aunt, so started a campaign of lies to turn us against each other. I can't remember everything, but things like telling me my uncle was xenophobic and thought my Polish (then GF) was only here for the money. They told him stuff as well that I had said which were lies, and we just ended up not speaking for years. There was loads more, but I'd be here all day typing it.
When he was on his death bed, my sister called me. She told me that he was asking for me. At that time I hated the man. I told her I wouldn't be coming and reminded her of all the things he said and did. That's when she told me. It was all a lie. All a campaign to turn myself and my uncle against each other. I was broken.
I went to the house and didn't find the man I once knew. My uncle was a big guy, but the man in the bed was stick thin and white. He was losing his ability to speak and struggling to breathe. I don't know what was happening, but I remember white liquid pouring from his nose and mouth as he was trying to breathe. I cried at his bed side and apologsed for all those wasted years. I don't know if he knew of my sisters campaign of hatred. I never told him. Another ghost to haunt me.
So yeah, two people and both had a serious impact. Not speaking about it at the time and putting it all to the back of my mind is the reason I had a breakdown years later. I'm now on the mend and have started to be more open, which is why I've posted all this above. Rather than letting it play on my mind, I find speaking (or typing) helps to clear the air.
Whoever reads all of the above, thank you for your time.
