My son, Corporal Tony Sutcliffe of 40 Commando Royal Marines, was my pride and joy. From a young age, he dreamed of serving his country — first as a cadet, then in the territorials, and finally, he served for 14 years as a Royal Marine. He loved his job, and everyone loved Tony. He was kind, funny, and often described as the life and soul of any room.
Tony served in Northern Ireland, Afghanistan, and other conflict zones. When he returned home, he struggled with broken sleep and survivor’s guilt after one of his closest friends was blown up by a landmine. Despite his pain, he was always there for others — speaking with fellow Marines and supporting those returning from the front line.
In time, injuries to his legs forced Tony to leave the service he loved. He was honourably discharged and presented with a ceremonial dagger by his troop -symbols of deep respect. Every Remembrance Sunday, he proudly wore his medals, side by side with his Marine brothers.
But Tony’s greatest love was his daughter, Lyra. She was his world. After having marital issues, he could only see her on occasions, which hit him hard. The last time we saw Lyra together, she cried for her daddy as she was taken home. I’ll never forget the sadness in his eyes on that drive home.
This, on top of the things he had seen on his tours, was becoming too much for him. He had been asked to go for counselling, but these guys are trained to be tough and find it weak to ask for help. In my eyes, when these young men do these conflict tours, with what they see, counselling should be compulsory, so they don’t feel they are the weak link, as they all have to go through this.
Just days after our visit to his daughter, I tried to text and call him, but there was no answer. I had a gut feeling that something was wrong, so I drove to Tony’s house, and when myself, his father, and his brother finally broke in, we found he had taken his own life. My beautiful, brave son - gone. The last card he gave me read, “Thank you, Mum, for having my back.”
Since his death, I’ve received many letters from his comrades — full of respect, humour, and love. They remind me of the incredible man Tony was. But I share his story because no veteran should face their battles alone. These men and women are trained to be strong, but asking for help is strength, not weakness.
That’s why I support Operation Lifeline by The Veterans’ Foundation — because no veteran should face a crisis alone.
Sponsor A Veteran and help save lives like Tony’s.
