We Need To Talk About Death

Image c/o The Irish Hospice Foundation

A SINGLE DEATH is said to directly affect an average of ten people. With this in mind, there are some 290,000 people grieving in Ireland each year. Death is the only inevitable aspect of any life and yet we feel hugely uncomfortable discussing it. Why can't we talk about this particular elephant in the room until we need a coffin for it? Quite simply, because it hurts. When it's someone close to you, it hurts like hell.

'Death anxiety' is a huge, often hidden, problem. Susan Delaney, Bereavement Services Manager at the Irish Hospice Foundation (IHF), maintains that "no one wants to think about [death] before they have to". Even after-the-fact, letting your mind become acquainted with thoughts of quietus can be extremely difficult. Ms Delaney acknowledges that people are often surprised by the impact of grief and find themselves poorly equipped to deal with it. She says: "It happens to us all but it can still be an ambush."

Essentially my family was given just shy of three days to come to terms with the fact that our husband and father would die. Up until that point, hope was ever-present. It could have been due to the fact we simply refused to let ourselves accept the inevitable, heartbreaking truth. It might have been that the medical team treating him tried to sugar-coat the real prognosis. In truth, it was probably a combination of both. Envisaging a world without dad was unfathomable. The sun was removed from our universe and we were expected to somehow survive. He was the strongest, most significant male presence in each of our lives and his passing has left a mammoth void.

He did not smoke, he barely drank, he was active; he was diagnosed with a type and level of cancer that is extremely aggressive and most common amongst overweight people who smoke and drink regularly. Various types of treatment ensued - some worked briefly, others not at all. Seven months later he was gone. None of this made sense - it all seemed surreal and, for the most part, we let it. The sheer strangeness of it all dulled the pain and made it easier to pretend none of the nightmare was actually happening. It sometimes still does. Watching someone you love die is, obviously, beyond horrendous. By the end, you will them to go. You want them to be free and feel no pain. Admitting defeat is the only option left on the table.

Our three day countdown was an odd period. It was full of emotion - we cried, we laughed, we talked. As dad himself pointed out, if he had been hit by a car and died instantly we would have never had the chance to say how much we loved each other. Nothing was left unsaid and he died happy. Amongst the sheer agony of loss, that is something that provided a gargantuan sense of relief and gratitude for us all.

The five 'stages' of grief are supposedly denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I've definitely experienced all of these during the eight months since my father's passing. For me, they were not mutually exclusive entities. Grief is like a river: it ebbs and flows. One moment everything is calm and manageable, the next you're hurtling headfirst down a waterfall. To be perfectly honest, I'm still in a period of denial. I get by because I refuse to dwell on the truth. In those moments when it hits me that he's gone, I find it hard to breath.

I'm aware that my experience is not unique. Bereavement does not come with a guide book and approximately ten per cent of those dealing with it require extra support in the form of therapy. Although the IHF does not provide counselling itself, it acts act an information hub for the many people who contact the organisation when attempting to come to terms with their grief. The charity runs a number of bereavement-related courses. 

Ms Delaney says people are "very hungry for training" - a fact supported by the waiting lists that exist for certain training initiatives. The IHF has twice held a Bereavement Care Liaison Project in conjunction with the HSE in the midlands. Although there are currently no plans for similar projects elsewhere, the body is striving to help provide equal access to bereavement help nationwide. Financial donations by the public are imperative to the charity as they receive no official funding. Ms Delaney notes that there are many misconceptions regarding bereavement but believes that each person will respond and recover in a way that is natural to them. "People are resilient," she says.

While it can be difficult for adults to express grief, it can be even more of a challenge for children and young people to articulate the pain inflicted by the loss of a loved one. Barnardos' Bereavement Counselling for Children (BBCC) Helpline receives approximately four hundred calls annually from parents, carers, social workers, GPs and Gardaí who are looking to support children following a death in the family. In 2011, the charity provided bereavement counselling for 396 children and families. While the Helpline is a national service, the organisation's counselling department operates from Dublin and Cork. These venues were selected based on population size and need. Unfortunately, resources do not permit the expansion of the service at this point.

The Family Support Agency (FSA) provides about fifty per cent of their finance and the remainder comes from voluntary funds such as public donations. The FSA grant received by Barnardos will be almost halved from 2011 - 2014. Valerie Kelly, BBCC's Head of Service, admits that it will not be possible to provide the present level of service from 2013 onwards. This year, the Commission for the Support of Victims of Crime donated €23,500 to help the association's work with families of homicide victims, while Electric Ireland pledged €15,000 towards aiding their work with those bereaved through suicide. The BBCC is the only dedicated children’s bereavement counselling service in the Republic.

Understanding grief will only ever become more achievable through open and frank discussions on the subject. Even then, it will more than likely remain an enigma. Nevertheless, by taking the time to talk about life ending we might well come that little bit closer to understanding life itself and the grief we will all have to face at some point. Those grieving, and the organisations that aid them, need support. 

For further information on the IHF's bereavement services, visit their website or phone (01) 6793188. The BBCC can be contacted via (01) 473 2110 or online.