I think I have two saddest in my family so far, or maybe three: there was my great-great grandfather's sister who committed suicide by taking carbolic acid. She took 24 hours to die, in great pain, according to the newspaper. That was in June 1881 and she was only 17.
Then there was my great-great grandfather's adoptive father/uncle by marriage, William H Giesen, who died in 1875 aged 37, after suffering an epileptic fit in the street in London. He fell to the ground, hit his head on the pavement and died two days later of a fractured skull. A policeman on his beat found him surrounded by a crowd of interested on-lookers. For me the sad thing is the attitude of the Victorian public to things like epilepsy. According to the coroner's report, of which I was lucky enough to get a copy, William had no fixed address at the time of his death, but he was employed. For some reason he wasn't living with his wife Martha, to whom he'd been married ten years. In the 1871 census he's recorded as living with her and their "son" Charles (actually her natural nephew).
Lastly there was Fanny, the mother of Charles and Ada, who died aged about 34 in the London Hospital for Diseases of the Chest, of psthisis, a form of TB to which people suffering from malnutrition are particularly susceptible.
Oh dear I've remembered no less than three more:
My uncle Ronnie, who died in 1972 aged 17 when he collided on his motorbike with a lorry. His brother, my Uncle Alan, who died the next year, also aged 17, when he was run over by a bus. And lastly, their baby niece, my little cousin Laura, who died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome aged 4 months.

Great uncle George died on Christmas Day 1891 ......... he was a handsome cab driver
joboy
My great-great grandfather was also an extremely good-looking hansom cab driver. Sadly I don't take after him.