‘Remembering ourselves’: grief and identity with asylum seekers

People work around a table on art projects, we can see their hands not their faces

As part of a recent project, our Community Action team collaborated with a group of asylum seekers on ‘Remembering Ourselves’ – a ten-week group exploring loss, memory, grief and identity through reflective art-making. Loren Seaman, Community Learning Facilitator, reflects on the process.

Loss is a central and ongoing reality for most asylum seekers, but it’s rarely addressed within the programming at Southwark Day Centre for Asylum Seekers — in part given the care needed to maintain a safe environment for those already in difficult, vulnerable positions.

But with the right approach, a project emerged.

It came from a long-term relationship with the centre, built through previous workshops, informal conversations over lunch, and the slow, steady work of earning trust.

With the participants, we co-designed a space that could explore the themes of loss, memory, grief and identity gently, using mixed-methods adapted to the group’s needs.

With varied levels of English fluency in the group, we chose materials, colours, and symbols that could facilitate reflection without relying on language.

Participants made clay impressions of meaningful items—shells, jewellery trinkets, tools—offering ways to express memory and identity without needing to speak.

These tiles were later broken and reassembled using fragments from everyone’s pieces, forming shared mosaics of collective memory.

This physical act of breaking and reconstructing became a powerful metaphor for what’s been lost, what’s carried, and what can be pieced back together.

A mosaic of broken ceramics and items on a table

Each session stood on its own, with built-in moments for quiet reflection and prayer, so participants could find meaning whether they came once or every week.

We focused on listening without interpretation, creating space for individuals to engage on their own terms without pressure to explain. The process was designed in response to the needs of the group— emotionally, linguistically, and culturally.

“We put everything together and we look at life in a different dimension.”

One person shared: “Because now, these [tiles] are a mindset of different people on a platform…This could be my past, this could be another person’s present, this could be someone else’s future. So we put everything together and we look at life in a different dimension.”

Another said: “We should have that spirit of resilience that this is all life is all about. It’s got its good side, bad side, and the very ugly side. That’s what makes us. So for that reason, we have to live, and we have to move forward. And thank God for a place like this. We come here, we share together. We change our views about life. Sometimes if you are alone, you think it is just only you. But when you come and you hear their own side of the story, you get encouraged.”

A woman creates at a table with different pieces of art equipment around her

The project reached some of the centre’s most longstanding clients, many of whom had been in the UK for more than 15 years and rarely participated in mixed-gender, multi-week groups.

The centre’s manager said: “The workshop approached delicate subject matter that we don’t usually address at the centre. There was a need, and it wanted to be filled. It was a really beautiful thing to see take place – the things that feel impossible to do, we managed to do in this project, and it changed the way I think about what we do at the centre.”

Although we intentionally never asked people to share, individuals began opening up. For some, it was the first time they had done so in the many years they’d been attending the centre.

“I think it’s time to remind me what happened… You’re trying to encourage me to forget about my past and try to fight for my present and my future. I’m so happy about that.”

While we weren’t aiming to forget the past – rather to let it sit alongside the present and future – these words speak to the hope that emerged: where the past could be acknowledged without becoming the whole story.

This article was originally published in issue six of our Connect magazine. To read the full magazine, or to sign up to receive future editions, please click here.

Find out more about our Community Action team here.

Autumn issue of Connect magazine published

The Autumn/Winter 2025 issue of our community magazine explores the important work of our teams and highlights how people remember their loved ones through extraordinary acts. It also includes a message from our new Chief Executive, Steve Smith.

Read the issue below or, collect a copy from one of the hospice sites or one of our shops.

If you’d like to have future issues sent to you, please register your interest here

If you’ve got any questions or comments about anything you read, or would like to share your experience of St Christopher’s, please do get in touch by emailing communications@stchristophers.org.uk

Connect Magazine Autumn 2025

Brian’s salsa makes him feel ‘light on his feet’

Brian with his three sons, all smiling

For a man who’s always worked hard and been the beating, active heart of family life, for his ageing parents, four siblings and four children, losing much of his mobility and being referred to St Christopher’s after a second cancer diagnosis came as a huge body blow for Brian Sewell.

After initially refusing the hospice’s offer of physiotherapy, Brian attended a course of six sessions and, after enjoying the physical and psychological lift, wants others to overcome any reluctance they might have about engaging with St Christopher’s.

“Coming to St Christopher’s was hard, and I knocked it back a couple of times,” Brian, 58, who was diagnosed with bone cancer in October, admits.

A screengrab of the video of Brian dancing alongside rehab assistant Rali in the hospice gym

“I just thought it was a place you went at the end. When I eventually came, my goal was to come and improve my mobility. I used to do everything for my mum and dad but I’d had to stop driving and I felt helpless.

“When I heard the salsa at my first physio session I just wanted to get up and dance. My son, Brett, who is a professional dancer was there with me and the physio asked if I wanted to dance. I said I didn’t know if I was strong enough. I promised that I was going to.

“Dancing has always been a big thing for me and I loved going out dancing. So, when I got up and danced it was like I was in a normal gym. I felt like I didn’t have cancer and everything was alright. I feel light on my feet.”

Brian Sewell and his wife smile at the camera

Brian, who’s lived all his life in Croydon and has known of many people who’ve been cared for by St Christopher’s, wants people to know what it’s really like.

“We have to find a way of letting people know that it’s not just a place you go to say goodbye.

“I would tell people to get down there and accept their help. They are really good people, it’s a lovely place with a great café and beautiful garden and the physio was fantastic.”

Nurses from St Christopher’s continue to call Brian every couple of weeks to check he’s ok and he’s hoping to return for more physio at some point.

Having achieved his dancing goal, proud dad Brian now wants to see his 16-year-old son Broghan make his debut as a professional footballer, after he recently signed for Southampton.

“A week after Brett said he liked dancing aged eight we were in a dance club, and when Broghan said he wanted to play football for a team I had him signed up straight away. Whatever your dream is you just have to push for it and go hard.”

It was Broghan’s twin brother Brae’s diagnosis aged three with a rare genetic condition called Ataxia-Telangiectasia (AT) that Brian believes has helped him and his wife Siobhan face his own challenging circumstances.

“We were told he had a lifespan of 26 and he’s now in a wheelchair. Watching Brae deteriorate prepared us for my diagnosis. He was only young and didn’t know what lay ahead.

“I have my bad days, but I’m ok and thanks to the physio and the medication I sometimes think maybe the doctors made a mistake.”

‘A ton of treasure’ – why Rhianna loves our shops

Rhianna Said is St Christopher’s charity shop obsessed. Being lucky enough to have two of our shops near to her home in Petts Wood, the 24-year-old loves to spend her time browsing the racks for hidden gems.

She paused her shopping for a moment to tell us all about her best buys!

Continue reading “‘A ton of treasure’ – why Rhianna loves our shops”
Rhianna Said at St Christopher's shops

Rhianna Said is St Christopher’s charity shop obsessed. Being lucky enough to have two of our shops near to her home in Petts Wood, the 24-year-old loves to spend her time browsing the racks for hidden gems.

She paused her shopping for a moment to tell us all about her best buys!

Continue reading “‘A ton of treasure’ – why Rhianna loves our shops”

‘Footy, curry & beers’: my friend’s funeral taught me there are no rules

Rainbow over the football pitch

Football, curry and a few beers – it sounds more like a Saturday evening out than a funeral. But this was very much the experience of our Director of Income Generation and Communications, Tom Abbott, at a recent funeral he attended. 

Here, Tom reflects on how this funeral has shifted his views on what he might like his own to be like one day.

I’ve known Darren about ten years, playing for the same over-35’s football team and both increasingly dragging our slightly out of shape and ageing bodies around the football pitch purely for the love of still playing.  Darren was a good player, a central defender. He wasn’t scared to put a tackle in but he was also the first one to shake hands and always enjoyed a beer and a few laughs after the game.

We’re fortunate that every spring one of our team mates organises a game at a professional football ground somewhere across the country.  With trips recently to Portsmouth, Nottingham (Forest and County), Leicester, Derby and more, Darren was always the life and soul of these little trips, both on the pitch and later in the evening on the dancefloor at a local nightclub, shocked by the attendance of a large group of 40-somethings arriving at the door. 

“It did feel strange to not be sad, for it to be loud, for it to be happy.”

As team mates had birthday parties or got married, Darren and his wife Steph were always on the dancefloor or trying to convince us all that some exotic gin and tonic flavouring was a must try for the night.  Both Darren and Steph were Police Officers, so there always seemed some hilarity in them leading the festivities!

So, at only 46 it was a shock to hear that Darren had suffered a stroke.  And more of a shock still to hear a week later that there was nothing more that could be done and Darren’s life support was to be switched off.

The day Darren died, the team had a game scheduled that evening.  We set about postponing the match in respect and honour of our much-loved team mate.  But Steph and Darren’s teenage children wouldn’t have it. “Darren loved football, he would want you to play.” So we did.  With a moment of silence and flowers laid in the centre of the pitch, Steph and the kids even came along for some of the game, wanting to be close to something that was so much a part of Darren’s life.

And that very much set the tone for what ended in an incredible celebration of Darren’s life.  I’ve never been to another funeral like it, and the experience certainly left me thinking about my own.

Rainbow over the football pitch

There were around 200 people crammed into the Crematorium for Darren’s funeral, his coffin arriving through a police guard of honour, including police dogs.  Quite a moving site.  His son, who looks just like him, and young daughter spoke so bravely about their memories but also the things they will miss in the future, not having Dad there on their wedding day for example.  A room full of police officers and football friends moved to tears.

It was the Wake though that really has me thinking about a celebration of life.

Off to a local football club for a game. Darren’s team versus a police team. We walked out to Glad All Over, the Crystal Palace anthem – Darren was a season ticket holder – with hundreds of people in the stands. 

As we kicked off the game a rainbow appeared across the sky.  It had to be Darren, surely.

A lovely togetherness all around the pitch… some laughter at the inevitable mistakes or someone falling over, and some good old cheering every time a goal was scored.  Darren’s son played for both teams and his daughter played a few minutes too (still in her dress and barefoot on the cold grass).

You can’t help yourself if you love football, it got competitive.  Of course.  But that is exactly what Darren would have wanted.

After the game Steph had asked that we ditch the shirts and tie’s so we came back for the rest of the Wake in shorts and t-shirts.  Darren always wore shorts, rain or shine. 

We tucked in to a curry (Darren’s favourite) and a few beers in the clubhouse.  Still hundreds of people present, including Darren’s parents.

The music was cranked up and we shared memories and stories of Darren, surrounded by photos of him. 

It did feel strange to not be sad, for it to be loud, for it to be happy.  But that was 100% Darren.  He would have loved to see all those people together, his friends, family and work colleagues.  And he would have laughed at us all in our shorts, in his memory.

So, as I think about what a celebration of life is and what a funeral has to be, I am so aware now that there are no rules, there is no right or wrong way.  This day was so very Darren and that was what made it special.

Rest in peace Dazza.  Forever 46.

This article was originally published in issue 5 of our Connect magazine. To read the full magazine, or to sign up to receive future editions, please click here.

New issue of our Connect magazine published

The Spring/Summer 2025 issue of our community magazine explores how we help people to live life to the full and make the most of the time they have left, as well as interviews with a palliative care social worker and some physios from St Luke’s Hospice in Plymouth.

If you’d like to have future issues sent to you, please register your interest here

If you’ve got any questions or comments about anything you read, or would like to share your experience of St Christopher’s, please do get in touch by emailing communications@stchristophers.org.uk

Connect magazine Issue 05 2025

A day in the life of the hospice transport drivers

Since both retiring around ten years ago, David Raper and Bernie Farrugia have found a rewarding job with which to spend their retirement years – as St Christopher’s patient drivers.

What does a patient driver do? Why is it so fulfilling? The pair took the time to tell us why they keep coming back every week to drive for us.

David, who previously worked for 44 years as a bus driver, began driving for St Christopher’s at the age of 69.

“The best part of the job is people smiling. They’re not always smiling when you arrive but they are when they get to the hospice. We become friends with the patients,” he says.

Bernie and David stand by the ambulance

Patient drivers usually see three or four people each day, and most often this is to bring them from their home to the hospice, and then back again. Some come to the hospice for treatment, rehabilitation sessions in the gym, therapy, or indeed, any other service we offer on-site.

“It means the world to them,” David explains. “There’s a guy I go to see – he has Motor Neurone Disease (MND). All he can move is his head. When he came here, he burst out crying, because he was finally getting the care he needed.”

Nevertheless, sometimes the medical and rehabilitative side of treatment isn’t enough when it comes to palliative and end of life care. There is a social side to our care, to be with others, to share experiences, to laugh, paint, or simply have a coffee in the Anniversary Centre. Being a patient driver has reflected this for
David, who recalled a particular stand-out person who came in once.

“He had an expensive BMW and a £3,000 wheelchair, and he said to us: ‘I want to [die].’ So, me and Bernie sat in the Anniversary Centre with him and had a cup of tea together. He went home a different man.”

Bernie, 67, retired from his job as a draughtsman ten years ago and was then recommended the driving job by a nurse who worked on the wards.

Bernie and a patient

“The patients seem very grateful,” he says. “We do the things that a cab driver might not do; get them in the door or get their chairs. It comes naturally. Sometimes we help them put their shoes on. A lot of these people are in pain, so if we need to stop and gently go over speed bumps, we’ll do that and pay no mind to what the drivers behind think.”

A patient driver can be someone’s first introduction to St Christopher’s, or even their first introduction to hospice care. The journey from home to the front door can be a daunting experience, and so it takes empathy, care and a warm personality to help a someone feel at ease with coming here for the first time.

“They’re anxious about what they’re going to find here, but then you take them home later and they’re totally at ease,” says Bernie.

David and Bernie have honed their skills as our drivers; they understand how to cater to people’s feelings and how someone’s mood or energy can be vastly different from one day to the next. A patient driver doesn’t always go directly from A to B.

“We become friends with the patients.”

“You’ve got to be flexible,” Bernie tells us. “You can quite often go to someone’s house, ready to pick them up, and they’ll just go: ‘I feel too ill to come in.’ That’s just part of the job, and you have to be sympathetic.”

Despite the hard work and flexibility that the role requires, both David and Bernie would recommend taking up the role of patient driver for anyone who would like to spend their time making a real difference to those in palliative care.

“If there are any drivers looking to come out of retirement, do it!” David says.

“It’s a rewarding job and the people you work with are nice. The best part is helping people, it makes you
feel like what you’re doing is right,” Bernie adds.

Our patient driving service relies on your kind donations. To donate please contact fundraising@stchristophers.org.uk or donate here.

You can see all vacancies for roles here.

:: This story was from our Autumn/Winter issue of Connect magazine. To read the full magazine, or to sign up to receive future editions, please click here.

Meet our bereavement support volunteers

What’s it like being Bereavement Support Volunteer for St Christopher’s? We spoke with Gareth, Dawn and Resha to hear their first-hand experiences of the role.

Continue reading “Meet our bereavement support volunteers”

What’s it like being Bereavement Support Volunteer for St Christopher’s? We spoke with Gareth, Dawn and Resha to hear their first-hand experiences of the role.

Continue reading “Meet our bereavement support volunteers”

Our young changemakers explore care in all its forms

Our Community Learning Facilitator Jack Emsden reflects on our summer school for 16-18-year-olds and the impact the activities and discussions had on the students as well as the staff, volunteers and community members they engaged with.

Continue reading “Our young changemakers explore care in all its forms”

Our Community Learning Facilitator Jack Emsden reflects on our summer school for 16-18-year-olds and the impact the activities and discussions had on the students as well as the staff, volunteers and community members they engaged with.

Continue reading “Our young changemakers explore care in all its forms”

Volunteer fashion experts take our eBay income to the next level

With decades of experience working with some of the best known high-street brands, Adele Bambridge and Veronica Herranz know their treasure from their tat and they’re putting their fashion knowhow to profitable use volunteering for St Christopher’s.

Continue reading “Volunteer fashion experts take our eBay income to the next level”
A man buys a jacket in a St CHristopher's shop

With decades of experience working with some of the best known high-street brands, Adele Bambridge and Veronica Herranz know their treasure from their tat and they’re putting their fashion knowhow to profitable use volunteering for St Christopher’s.

Continue reading “Volunteer fashion experts take our eBay income to the next level”