We all have a story to share… this is mine.

There have been a number of experiences that have bought me to this space. I don’t remember anything particularly standoutish (sorry not technically a word) when I was growing up. I lived on a farm, youngest child of 4 and only daughter (yes, I was spoilt). Life and death on the farm was pretty normal. Things got born, things died. We had “pet row” along the fence-line leading to the cowshed where our family cats and dogs were buried. We would be sad for a little while, miss our pet, but ultimately we would adjust and eventually we would reminisce about the funny antics of said pet, and their annoying habits, around the dinner table with laughter and a feeling of shared experience and love.

The same happened with the people we loved. I don’t remember death ever being a taboo topic in our household. Dad would come home from the sale-yards on a weekly basis with news of someone dying, or hearing of a life changing diagnosis. We would share our memories of that person, but we had an understanding that with life also came death.

Both of my parents lost siblings when they were children. Just coming out of WWII, my parents shared with me that they didn’t talk about those deaths in their families much at all.

That’s why I find it so interesting that as a 10 year-old I was very much invited into my Grandfathers end of life. He had a stroke on very cold day in July. My Grandmother decided he was taking too long and went to look for him finding him unconscious, lying on the ground in the cowshed. I was invited to visit him in hospital. He was still unconscious and I was told what to expect… tunes, beeps, grandad not awake, but if I talked to him, they believed he would likely hear me. When he died I was asked if I wanted to go see him played out at the funeral home. I was told what to expect, what grandad might look like and feel like. It was weird but I was glad I did it. Then the funeral. I’d been to a couple of some great uncles I never knew. I guess they are good practice for the real thing - someone you really do love and are connected to. I didn’t get told much about what would happen and I got a massive fright when the coffin lowered into the ground. It freaked me out. Hence my passion to support adults to support children in end of life and after death care, to give them choice, to let them know what they may or may not see, smell, hear, touch. I believe children absolutely have a place here, but it is important to support them in that.

There were a few other deaths of close family friends but the next one that really rocked my world was when my Grandmother died of a heart attack right in front of me. We were in the hospital visiting her as she had experienced a couple of heart attacks during the day. A nurse had just taken my Mum, Dad and Uncle out of the room (I later found out they were having a conversation about life saving measures vs comfort care should she experience another heart attack)… Like in the movies, while it was just me and my Grandmother, she had another heart attack. Machines went off everywhere and the nurse ran back in with my Mum, Dad and Uncle. What was beautiful was the nurse calmly directed us to hold my Grandmother as she died. We did and what was a traumatic crisis all of a sudden actually became very beautiful and a massive honour. I wanted to talk about it to anyone and everyone who would listen. I was 14 and no-one at school wanted to have this conversation. I distinctly remember being told to shut up on more than one occasion. Hence my passion for allowing a space for people to share their story.

In my mid-20’s I helped our wider family care for my Grandfather on my Mum’s side. This was a three-week endurance event. We were exhausted. We had depleted our resources and had reached unsustainable levels. We were all burnt out. My Grandad died with a number of us at his side, hours before a family meeting where we were going to have to think up and execute a reasonable plan B. I’m so grateful we never had to do that. Hence my passion for supporting the family caregivers in caring for themselves right from the get go. Gathering your care team and having plans A, B C & D… It’s an absolute honour yet very hard yards.

Fast forward to my late 30’s and once again I found myself as part of a family support team for my Dad. Over the 3 years he lived with Oesophageal Cancer we learnt how to do it his way (and my Mums - they were a team after all). We made memories for ourselves and the grandchildren, we had some conversations about what he did and didn’t want. I would call it as good of death as we could have hoped for and yet I still felt incredibly alone. I vividly remember standing outside his bedroom door with a voice screaming in my head “surely we are not the only ones to go through this?” and that is something that sits with me to this day. Dad didn’t want a funeral but we did. Some people might think this is disrespectful, but I suspect Dad always knew we would have one because we all just said “ok Dad, whatever you want”. He knew it was too easy! Hence my passion for end of life conversations, legacy and living each moment. Dad got so much joy from being with his grandchildren, and watching the goats and lambs play in the paddock outside his window. He was a farmer to the very end, through and through.

I’ve also recently had the privilege to be bedside of my childhood best friend, along with her family, as they removed artificial life support after she experienced a sudden, undetected brain aneurysm. Even in this tragic and traumatic setting I was able to help guide and support the family to care for their Mum, Wife, Sister, Cousin, Aunty in a way that they never knew they could do. They were able to take her straight home, without embalming and care for her without a funeral director, until her burial in the family cemetery. They were able to fulfil her wishes because she was able to talk to her family about what she would and would not want if she ever found herself unable to make those decisions. Hence my passion for family led after death care and once again encouraging people to have these conversations, because you just never really know what is around the corner.