My personal bereavement journey

Dealing with bereavement

Paola Bassanese

My Dad died between 2.30 and 5.30am on Thursday 14th August 2008. My Mum found him peacefully departed in his sick bed at home. He was 73 and died of colon cancer.

My Mum and sister lived with him in Italy whereas I left my family home in 1996 to move to London. Sometimes I feel guilty I wasn't there when he died, but then again in 2008 alone I flew to see my family in March, June, July, November and December. Dad was briefly hospitalised in June and he urged me to go and see me; he was given one month to live, but then he made a somewhat unexpected recovery for about a month and when I went to see him at home in July 08, although painfully thin, he had so much zest for life it was practically unbelievable he was the same man as the one lying all tubed up in a hospital bed a month before.

I call this the miracle of love. I am not particularly spiritual even though I was raised a Catholic in Italy and have been dabbling with meditation and read about Buddhism. But in this case, this was love in the shape of having the support of a loving family that helped my father through the last few weeks of his life.

I was really selfish as I kept on working at my clinics between flying visits to Italy because I was so proud that I proved my Dad wrong. He didn't agree on my decision to leave the civil service and start a new career as a complementary therapist.

Then again, I feel blessed that I have ironed out my differences with my Dad just a month before he died: he told me he was proud of me and he encouraged me to continue my nutrition studies that I had started earlier on in 2008.

He also told me he would really like me to find someone and be happy. Bless him.

The funeral ceremony was beautiful, we found an agency that took on all the logistics from the flowers to the obituary on the local newspaper and we got complimented on how well organised it all was. Men in while gloves carried the coffin from the church into a Mercedes (my Dad's favourite car!) that drove slowly to the burial site.

It was weird to see so many relatives i didn't know, some of them came from Croatia where my Dad was from originally; a slice of Croatia used to be part of Italy and my Dad emigrated from his small village to move to Trieste when former Yugoslavia took over his native territory in 1956.

It was lovely to see one of my dear friends who took time off work to come to the ceremony. She lost her father a year and a half ago and her words were very poignant: she said that everybody's grief is different and that I will learn a way to deal with my loss over time.

My mum's cousin and her husband gave us a lot of support and helped us with the funeral organisation, we wouldn't have done it without them. As a family we never, ever, asked for help and were very proud of that. But I have learnt that it is important to ask for help when you lose someone and friends and family are more than happy to support you when you need them. So I would say don't be afraid to ask for help.

All in all this was a good farewell.
In my heart of hearts I knew that that man in that wooden box was not my father, that his spirit lives within me and that he is in a much better place. I felt very prepared for the event. He is not suffering anymore and is not limited by his earthly body which had betrayed him.

I had read books about death and I have been practising daily meditation and giving myself Reiki healing. More healing came from writing long emails to my friends in London. I also give thanks each day for my wonderful family, all the experiences that have made me grow, my fantastic friends and clients.

Seeing my Mum planning daily activities to keep busy was so inspiring. She said that for her it was like hell not to live with her husband anymore because he was the love of her life. They were married for 45 years and she cared for him emotionally and physically until the very end. She thought that he was calling her for help every night but these were nightmares she had every night as she suffered from insomnia. Keeping busy helped her deal with her loss. She found an inner strength I have never seen in her, because as an Italian woman brought up to be a good wife and mother she was always depending on my Dad and followed his lead as head of the family. The transformation in her was extraordinary. We created this strong family unit made of myself, my Mum and my sister, with this beautiful female energy that supported us during those though initial weeks since my Dad's death.

I left Italy a month after my Dad left this world; in a way, the old me died as well and a new me has emerged. I like the new me because she wants to be in this world to serve others and bring happiness in other people's lives.

I have learnt that if you just let it, life will teach you the way.