Both of my parents lost siblings when they were children. Coming out of WWII, it was something their families didn’t talk much about at all. That’s why I find it interesting that as a 10 year-old I was invited into my Grandfathers end of life. It was the first of several experiences that shaped my desire for improving people’s experiences around change, loss & grief, end of life, and death & dying.

My Grandfather’s stroke

My Grandmother found Grandad unconscious in the cowshed one cold day in July. I was invited to visit him in hospital, still unconscious following the stroke and was told what to expect…tunes, beeps, Grandad not awake, unable to speak. They said if I talked to him, he would likely hear me. When he died I was asked if I wanted to go see him at the funeral home. Again, 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 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 have a place here, and it is important to support them.

My Grandmother died in front of me

The next death that really rocked my world was when my Grandmother died of a heart attack right in front of me. She’d had a series of heart attacks during the day so we were visiting her in hospital.

A nurse had just taken my Mum, Dad and Uncle out of the room. 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. Amongst the urgency, the nurse calmly directed us to hold my Grandmother as she died. What was a traumatic crisis all of a sudden became very beautiful and an honour.

I was compelled to talk about it to anyone who would listen. As a 14-year old no-one at school wanted to have this conversation and I was told to stop talking about it on many occasions. Hence my passion for allowing a space for people to share their story.

The importance of caring for the carers

In my mid-20’s I helped our wider family care for my maternal Grandfather. This was a three-week endurance event and we were exhausted. We had depleted our resources and had reached unsustainable levels. 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.

On their own terms

Fast forward to my late 30’s and once again I found myself as part of a family support team - this time for my Dad. Over the three years he lived with Oesophageal Cancer we learnt how to do it his way (and Mums way - 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 a death as we could have hoped for and yet I still felt incredibly alone. I vividly remember standing outside his bedroom door with this voice in my head saying “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.

The unexpected happens - encouraging conversations

I recently had the privilege to be with my childhood best friend and her family as they removed her artificial life support following 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 her in a way that they never knew they could do. They were able to take her home, without embalming, and safely care for her without a funeral director, until her burial in the family cemetery. They were able to fulfil her wishes because she had been 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 encouraging people to have these conversations, because you just never really know what is around the corner.