‘I’m a Feminist – Period.’

Image c/o the Irish Feminist Network

VITAL INSTRUMENT of equality or dirty word? Órla Ryan talks to Colette Fahy of the Irish Feminist Network to see where the movement is at in 2013. 

“I think it’s really important that people use that word (feminism) proudly and say ‘Yeah, I am a feminist’, instead of ‘I’m a feminist, but blah blah blah . . .’ “

Being a feminist is not something a person should have to defend, regardless of gender. The term was once synonymous with bra burning and an aversion to razors and the male species. However, Colette Fahy is confident the time is right to reclaim it from this misappropriation.

She acknowledges that “[Feminism] has become an uncool word”, but feels this is set to change. “Irish feminism is really going through a nice kind of Renaissance now,” she says, adding that its true meaning of gender equality is once again coming to the fore.

 “I think women and girls and men are realising something has to be done and it can be done,” she states. “You can lobby your government and you can make a difference and it’s really, really exciting to be involved in feminism at the moment.”

Ms Fahy thinks the recent groundswell of support for the Irish Feminist Network (IFN) is, in part, due to the case of Savita Halappanavar bringing women’s rights to the fore. Ensuring the government follow through with implementing legislation for the X Case is one of the organisation’s top priorities this year.

Another issue the IFN is focusing on is the ‘Turn Off The Red Light’ campaign to end prostitution and sex trafficking in Ireland. Ms Fahy maintains that female objectification in the media is doing little to help such problems. “It relegates women to this box of being sexual objects and it’s not a good representation of all the many, various roles they take in life and public life and politics as well,” she says.

“As a society, we need to face up to the fact that [sexual assault] is a big problem. I know people don’t really like talking about it, but it is a big problem and we need to support women who have been survivors of sexual violence.

 “Very few women would come forward in cases of sexual assault or rape . . . and there’s a huge stigma around it.” She notes how difficult it is for women to bring their case to the courts due to the very low convictions rates here.

Ms Fahy is extremely worried about Irish attitudes to rape. She cites the culture of “victim blaming” in incidences of sexual assault as an area of particular concern.  “If someone is robbed you don’t say, ‘Oh well, you were walking around with your wallet on you’,” she adds.

She feels the use of rape as a “punch line” and throwaway terms such as ‘fraping’ in relation to Facebook are indicative of Ireland’s somewhat blasé attitude to a horrific crime.

Ms Fahy believes complacency has led to many societal problems in this country, one of them being the lack of women in the “boys’ club” that is the Dáil – less than 15 per cent.  “We can’t just sit here and hope that it’ll fix itself, so things like quotas and the work of the 50:50 group, who actively encourage women . . . in politics, are really important.”

She says that in order to obliterate the glass ceiling, change has to come “from the top down”. Once this sexist culture has ceased, she feels quotas will no longer be necessary as it will then be second nature for women to become politicians if they so wish.

She muses that both the objectification of women in the media and the lack of female contributors in politics and business can have an extremely detrimental effect on young girls’ confidence.

Mary Robinson echoed these sentiments at NUI Galway last week. The former President of Ireland spoke of her disappointment regarding the relative lack of progress made by women in politics since she left office over fifteen years ago. "In some ways, things have gone well and in other ways, it's surprising that they have not gone better," she told student journalists.

 “I thought that we were on a clearer path to women taking their full place [in politics] . . . actually it hasn't happened. There are struggles now that younger women have to fight.”

Mrs Robinson feels that a lack of confidence may have restricted women from progressing further in politics. "Be confident in your ability, know that your country will be better served by all of you reaching your full potential," she advises.

The champion of women’s rights admitted she was reluctant to describe herself as a feminist during her presidency, for fear of being pigeon-holed. She said being “bracketed” as a feminist may have led to a loss of credibility in certain circles.

Such an admission from one of the world’s most highly respected public figures surely augers well for the future of feminism. Whether Renaissance or reclamation – who cares? Let’s all just fess up to the ‘f’ word.

Further details on the Irish Feminist Network can be found here.


This article also appears on Campus.ie and TheDailyShift.ie.

Hat's Off: The Highs & Lows of TV Murder

Image c/o DeviantArt.com

“I THINK people should vote for me because my mother’s friend’s uncle’s pet budgie was recently crushed by a ukulele, and if I could perform in front of the overpaid, over exposed, beautiful people that would help dull the pain,” said the girl.

“Oh God, that’s just so cliché. Haven’t you any novel sob stories we could attempt to market you with? I mean, give us something to work with,” replied the producer.

“I was raised by puppies . . . amputee puppies . . . that were abandoned . . . abandoned by orphans . . . orphans with diseases,” she cried.

“That whole puppy/orphan thing has been so overdone. We need a fresh angle. Think harder!”

“I once scaled Machu Picchu – backwards, in the lotus position, using only my hands, to raise funds to buy iPads for Bill Gates’ kids.”

“Who hasn’t? What else?”

“I’m from a distinctly average background, work hard and am genuinely talented.”

“Hmmm, that’s new. I don’t like it, no one would relate to it. Tell me the thing about the budgie again – small birds rate highly among the 16-25 age demographic.”


It’s a tried and tested formula: a ‘talent’ show contestant shares their tale of misery and woe to the backdrop of a Snow Patrol song. The audience promptly becomes a group of blubbering, emotional messes – I believe the collective noun is ‘gullibi’. As of yet, studies have failed to discern whether those affected are more upset by the content of the story or its musical accompaniment. One thing is certain, however – the only known cure for such an infliction: call a premium rate number to ensure Simon Cowell doesn’t have to downsize one of his yachts. Lather up the emotional blackmail, rinse it all over the viewers and repeat ad nauseam.

The majority of those who win these types of TV competitions often end up being exploited to within an inch of their life (and sanity). They are chewed up and spat out before they’ve had time to utter the phrase “Don’t you know who I am? No? Not even a vague idea? Right so, I’ll get my coat.” The tough-skinned contestants fare better than the rest. Viewing figures are the be all and end all of these vehicles, but at what cost? A psychological evaluation is now part of the behind-the-scenes action of many such shows, but does this really make a difference? Often times, vulnerable people are placed on a pedestal for the single purpose of bullies getting a kick out of knocking them right off it.

Making fun of sub-par contestants on talent shows is like shooting fish in a barrel. In this instance, however, the fish swam intentionally up to the hook and jumped on it. It then proceeded to get bloody darn excited at all the attention it attracted when thrashing from one side of the bucket to the other. “Like me! Accept me! Validate me! And when you cook and eat me, serve me with a drizzle of lemon,” thought the fish – before its imminent gutting.

Traditional television watching habits may be dwindling somewhat due to increased online broadcasts, but it all amounts to the same result. The TV we consume can itself consume us. Don’t get me wrong, television is a wonderful tool when used to educate and entertain in a positive fashion. Its power is equal parts colossal and subtle. Our minds are sponges and it’s a power hose.

Many people fare better in their daily lives when background noise is provided by a TV – it’s comforting and familiar. It’s a huge part of our culture and society. To this day, who here among us can hear the ‘Glenroe’ theme tune without temporarily becoming a scared ten year old hasn’t opened their schoolbag all weekend? Luckily, such stress no longer applies to us. Nowadays ‘Love/Hate’ gifts us with the opportunity of spending our Sunday nights watching drug dealers have sex and kill people. All I’m saying is; Nidge wouldn’t stand a chance against Blackie Connors.

If I’m honest, I’d much prefer to watch someone murder a fictional character rather than a real song. You can’t beat a good old-fashioned crime show – and I’m not talking about any of that CSI: CGI rubbish, either. The only thing CSI: Miami has thought the world is that white trouser suits and stilettos are the only appropriate attire to wear when investigating a murder scene. I yearn for the golden days of television – when crimes were solved based largely on the hunches of old people, rather than these new-fangled concepts of "DNA" and "evidence". Yes, I’m looking at you Jessica Fletcher and Mark Sloan. Major props if you get the references. If not, search those names right now. You’re welcome.


This article was also published in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper, and on the Irish Independent website, Campus.ie and TheDailyShift.ie.

Ireland will emerge from crisis stronger – Mary Robinson

Student Journalists Órla Ryan and Seán Dunne
pictured with Mary Robinson at NUI Galway. 

FORMER PRESIDENT Mary Robinson has said that Ireland will emerge stronger than ever from the current economic crisis. 

"I think Ireland has benefited from a very tough lesson. We recognise that this is the toughest time we've been through in modern Ireland. It's hurting people terribly, but we will come through stronger and I hope we will come through fairer, with a real sense of what Ireland itself can achieve," Ms Robinson stated.

She acknowledged that Ireland is going through "another wave" of emigration, something she feels the country can use to renew itself.

She noted that modern emigration is different in that young people "know that they want to come back and be more equipped for the modern Ireland".

"We need to be a country that these young people want to come back to and that's the challenge for the rest of us."

Speaking exclusively to student journalists at NUI Galway yesterday, she also revealed her upset regarding the recent surge in youth suicides.

"I find it very very distressing that so many young people in Ireland don't feel that sense of hope in themselves, that sense of potential," she said.

Ms Robinson alluded to her work with the Elders, a human rights advocacy group founded by Nelson Mandela, where members are encouraged to tell young people they are the future, "not in a glib way, but in a really affirming way".

She urged all parents and grandparents to tell young people "there are difficulties but we believe in you, we have faith in you, we actually want to support you".

Ms Robinson also spoke of her disappointment regarding the relative lack of progress made in terms of women in politics since she left office over fifteen years ago. "In some ways, things have gone well and in other ways, it's surprising that they have not gone better."

She feels that a lack of confidence may have restricted young women from progressing further in politics. "Be confident in your ability, know that your country will be better served by all of you reaching your full potential," she advised.

Ms Robinson was in NUI Galway to give a public interview on her life and work.

- by Órla Ryan and Seán Dunne

A version of this article appeared on the Irish Independent website, in The Connacht Tribune and in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Youth Media & the Irish Presidency: EU - Engaging with our Union

Viviane Reding, Vice-President of the European Commission,
speaking at the Citizens' Dialogue in Dublin. Photo: Dave Nowak

WE LIVE in an age where unprecedented levels of political connection are possible, and not just in terms of technology. Despite this, many people feel disconnected from their public representatives at local, national and international level. In modern democracies, the encouragement of citizen engagement with politicians has become an increasingly common feature.

In 2012, the President of the European Commission, José Manuel Barroso, called for a broad debate between officials and citizens of the European Union. There are over 500 million citizens in the EU. Successfully bringing together a pool of people diverse enough to truly represent this community is quite an undertaking, before one even begins to factor in the element of productive discussion with a view to policy formation.

Since September of last year, five 'Citizens' Dialogues' have taken place throughout Europe, the most recent of these being held in Dublin City Hall on 10 January. This series of public-politician forums, entitled 'A Debate on the Future of Europe', will continue until the end of 2013. These dialogues coincide with the EU's Year of Citizens, the 40th anniversary of Ireland's accession to the European Economic Community and our six-month presidency of the Council of the EU.

The formula is seemingly straightforward: a moderator oversees a Question and Answer session between members of the public and Viviane Reding, Vice-President of the European Commission. The audience size varies from 200-500 people. An indigenous politician is also present for questioning - in the Irish instance, State Minister for European Affairs, Fine Gael's Lucinda Creighton, TD.

At the Citizens' Dialogue in Dublin, the debate was split into three sections: the current economic crisis, the rights of European citizens and the future of the EU - in particular, where we hope to be in 2020. Topics covered included the possibility of an EU banking union and Minister for Finance, austerity budgets that target the most vulnerable, restructuring of the promissory note deal, unlinking bank debt and sovereign debt, youth unemployment, retirement age, climate change, gender inequality and the pay gap, discrimination against individuals and smaller EU countries, active citizenship and the idea of a 'human rights scoreboard' for member states.

A multifarious list, but one that merely scratches the surface of our Union. Minister Creighton stressed the inclusive nature of the EU at the forum, saying: "Every Irish citizen, every one of the citizens of all member states and candidate countries have a right to influence the direction of our union - to improve it, to make it better for the future."

Only a small fraction of those present got to ask their question. This is far from ideal but, logistically, was somewhat unavoidable. Such events cannot provide a portrait of the EU, rather a snapshot - but, the process of citizen engagement has to start somewhere. One issue to consider in terms of choosing the audience is that those who apply to attend are often people who are already interested in politics. This leads to a continuous cycle of the same faces, the same voices and the same sense of disconnect felt by those on the political periphery.

One can easily become disillusioned with politics and the seemingly impenetrable mound of bureaucracy that surrounds it. Vice President Reding stated that 69 per cent of EU citizens believe their voices don't count. What so for this silent majority? Are such debates simple posturing, no more than lip service?

This disengagement could well be one of the contributing factors to the steady decrease in voter turnout since the first direct European elections took place in 1979. General turnout in the last elections in 2009 stood at 43 per cent¹. The findings of a Europe-wide survey from 2010 show over eight in ten citizens believe this figure would increase if voters received more information on the programmes and objectives of European Parliament candidates and how political parties' programmes impact on people's daily lives².

In 2012 the European Commission undertook its largest ever public consultation, surveying almost 12,000 European citizens about their experiences with EU rights. Ms Reding admitted that almost seven in ten European citizens don't know what their rights are. The Commission website includes information on rights, but citizens have expressed their desire to receive information from other platforms, most notably television (52 per cent); social networking websites (49 per cent) and 'Europedia' - an online discussion forum (34 per cent). One in ten citizens felt there was no need for extra information to be shared³.

'Politicians are Listening'

As a politician from Luxembourg, the EU's smallest state, Ms Reding regularly speaks directly to citizens and would like to see this process replicated across the continent and Union at large. ". . . Something which has bothered me at European level is that we are making too many big speeches, instead of going out and looking the citizens in the eye and asking them their opinion." She added that the EU should involve citizens in the entire decision making process, not just present them with a policy in its final form. " [The Citizens' Dialogue series] is the beginning of a new adventure together . . . where politicians are listening," she assured.

At the close of the public discussion, Minister Creighton acknowledged that many changes and reforms are needed within the EU as it "certainly isn't perfect". She maintained that the Union must acknowledge its deficiencies and strengths alike in order to better itself. As a follow-up to the Citizens' Dialogue in the capital, her office will organise a number of regional debates across Ireland where individuals, civil society organisations and NGOs can voice their opinions in a similar fashion. Minister Creighton also spoke of the need to improve accountability, democracy and engagement at European level. She said that genuinely involving citizens in the political process would be a challenge, but one that would be met. "The evolution of Europe and Ireland's place in Europe is an ongoing process," she added.

Unprecedented change has occurred in both Ireland and the EU since our marriage 40 years ago. Whatever the next four decades will entail, one thing is for certain: citizen engagement is vital. Citizens' Dialogues are a step in the right direction on a very long journey. Whether or not they will lead to tangible results: time will tell.


References:

¹ EU Citizenship Report 2010: 'Dismantling the obstacles to EU citizens' rights'
² Eurobarometer Qualitative Survey: 'European Union Citizenship: Cross-Border Mobility' (August 2010; as listed in EU Citizenship Report 2010)
³ EU Citizens' Agenda: Public Consultation on EU Citizenship (2012 European Commission survey of 11,598 European citizens)

More information on the European Year of Citizens is available here.


This article also appears on the European Movement Ireland website and in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Hat's Off: The True Meaning of Christmas

Image c/o FunnyChill.com

DURING CHRISTMAS certain things are, unfortunately, inevitable. You know that you will eat too much, drink too much, spend too much and ultimately vomit at some point. Or - as we call it in Sligo - Tuesday night.

With all of this going on, it's virtually impossible to focus on the real meaning of the most festive of all seasons. It's hard to decipher what exactly that is but, being so knowledgeable and all, I've got some inside information. I don't like to brag but I saw a television once. *Gasps of excitement* Now that you've regrouped, I'm going to drop some wisdom grenades. This particular incident of TV voyeurism just so happened to take place in mid-August so, naturally, there was a Christmas advertisement being shown. From what I gather, 25 December has something to do with a bearded fat man and a donkey - I think it originally represented the national holiday for petting zoos. That, or Rolf Harris' birthday. I was never much good at reading in between the lines.

It could be argued that contemporary Christmas is little more than an extensive marketing ploy that leads you to eat too much, drink too much, spend too much and ultimately vomit at some point. Can you see a pattern forming? I wasn't always this bitter, though. I suppose my untainted Christmas joy began to fade when I was about eight years old and a certain member of third class decided to inform her less street-smart peers of a few Santa-related home truths. It was one of the first "Oh God, life is actually a big ball of crap" moments I've ever experienced. Did this mean there was no God, and, more importantly, who the hell kept putting money under my pillow when my teeth fell out?  Existence as I knew it was forever altered. I don't think I've ever looked at my parents quite the same way again.

Some time has passed since then (I'm now ten) and, thanks to extensive therapy sessions, I have partially moved on with my life. I'm making such great progress that I can now reminisce about Christmases of old. Don't worry, I'm not going to go all Christmas Carol on your ass and start discussing ghosts. I used to have ghosts of Christmas past, present and future but government funding cuts meant my organisation had to scale back on paying superfluous or "dead" members of staff. God damn bureaucracy.

Before I reached double digits, December was my absolute favourite time of the year. The sheer, unadulterated excitement a child experiences in the immediate run up to Christmas morning is arguably the greatest feeling in the world. I remember the joy I felt at receiving my Forever Friends play house when I was four. I believe epic is the word. It was orange (when I was four, everything had to be orange). I essentially lived there for about a week until the novelty wore off and one of the load-bearing plastic poles gave way. Good times. I still intend to use its layout as a blueprint for building my own house when I reach the age where I think it's fun to build houses. I reckon I'll be able to realise this particular dream when I'm in or around 72 years old.

When I was seven, I accumulated one of my most successful Christmas collections: a Father Ted box set, a bright blue Adidas shell suit (with the obligatory three stripes down the side) and the most amazing purple bike you've ever seen. I was one cool kid. I briefly queried how good old Saint Nick managed to successfully manoeuvre our modest chimney with four bikes for myself and my sisters but didn't feel the need to dwell on this. Santa is magic and that's all I needed to know.

In contrast, recent Christmas days seem somewhat dull. I no longer want to get up at five o'clock in the morning to inspect my presents as an annual pyjama haul pales in comparison to the heady youthful days of the 1990s. Money seems to be the default gift now. Don't get wrong, cash is useful - I buy things like stickers and cheese all the time. One thing's for sure, though: building a house out of bank notes is neither easy nor wise. If only the government had come to me for advice before the property boom - I'd have set them straight: plastic toy houses are where it's at.
   
In an attempt to bridge the gap between Christmases old and new, this year I plan to spend the day itself eating a selection box for breakfast, watching The Santa Clause trilogy in one sitting and pumping out the Cliff Richard. And remember, if you find yourself at a loss of what to do this festive season: eat too much, drink too much, spend too much and ultimately vomit at some point.


This article was also published on the Irish Independent website and Campus.ie and in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Clientelist Culture - Holding Back Ireland's Political Policies?

Image c/o Broadsheet.ie

THE IRISH political system is littered with oddities - before one even begins to discuss individuals. Some of these anomalies have led to the culture of clientelism that exists in our country. TDs have two roles - firstly that of legislator and, secondly, local dignitary and promoter. In Irish eyes, the latter is usually deemed more important.

Political parties often choose to contest an election on local issues¹, to the detriment of policy formation and legislation. And who could blame them? From 1922-1997, 34 per cent of TDs who lost their seats did so to a running mate. Our electoral system - Proportional Representation by means of a Single Transferable Vote in a Multi-Seat Constituency (PR-STV) - pits members of the same party against each other. Given the fact they cannot differentiate themselves from their peers on ideological issues, they must do so in terms of constituency work. In the 2002 General Election, the 14 Independent seats went to candidates who argued that their constituencies were not receiving enough government funding, particularly in terms of the ever-emotive area of health services.²

Clientelism exists for a number of reasons. Ireland's colonial background has created a history of alienation from central government, stemming back to British Rule. The urban-rural divide or 'us and them' mentality is also a factor in this regard. In the 1960s Basil Chubb, one of the first political commentators of the modern era, stated: "For generations, Irish people saw that, to get the benefits the public authorities bestow, the help of a man with connections and influence was necessary. All that democracy has meant is that such a man has been laid on officially, as it were, and is now no longer a master but a servant."³

Article 16.2.6 of the 1937 Irish Constitution states that a TD can represent a maximum of 30,000 citizens. One might assume that this relatively small ratio would enable politicians to spend the majority of their time focusing on their primary role of legislator. This, however, is not the case. The scale of society means that TDs can hold up to four 'clinics' a week, where they listen to the grievances of their constituents and, essentially, are asked for favours.

Many people still hold the opinion that one must know someone with "pull" in order to receive the State benefits they are entitled to. However, politicians often access facilities rather than provide them. They have experience of dealing with our particular brand of bureaucracy and know how to navigate the often complex maze that is Irish red tape. Meticulous applications for planning permission and social welfare benefits could well be as effective, if not more so, than supposed political intervention. Whether or not TDs actually exercise any influence on a decision that affects their constituency, or a member of it, is much debated. It has been claimed that they rarely objectively impact such decisions but merely create imaginary patronage through an "illusion of assistance" aided by advance knowledge of the outcome.³

This type of activity is systemic and cabinet ministers are seemingly as prone to engage in the process of brokerage as their lesser-known peers. The resignation of the Junior Minister for Health, Labour's Róisín Shortall, in September - over what she labelled "stroke politics" by Minister for Health James Reilly - highlighted this fact. Two locations in his north Dublin constituency were added to a list of places chosen for primary care centres on the evening before they were announced by the Government. The HSE and Ms Shortall had drawn up a priority list of locations in terms of need for the service. On it, Balbriggan ranked 44th and Swords was placed in 130th position. There were 36 locations on the final list. Despite near constant allegations, Mr Reilly has repeatedly denied localism played a part in the last minute additions. Last week's austere budget has deflected some attention from this particular issue but the argument still rumbles on.

Clientelism keeps politicians in touch with local issues but, unfortunately, its negative consequences far outweigh the positive ones. Clientelism disorganises the poor and vulnerable in society as it prevents them from grouping together and attempting to bring about real social and political change.³ It increases resentment and a feeling of exclusion for those who disagree with or do not engage in the practice.³ It also makes it extremely difficult for new politicians to break through and pump much needed fresh blood into the body of the Irish government.³

President Michael D Higgins previously stated that clientelism "seriously sells us short and distracts attention from the real basis of economic exploitation, political domination and ideological manipulation in Irish society".³ It seems that the process, like many contentious Irish political issues, isn't going away any time soon. Perhaps if our elected representatives spent more time dealing with their primary role of policy making, better decisions - both in terms of investment and cutbacks - might be made.


References:

¹ Adshead, M and Tonge, J (2009) Politics in Ireland, Palgrave Macmillan
² Gallagher, M; Marsh, M and Mitchell, P (2003) How Ireland Voted 2002, Palgrave Macmillan
³ Higgins, MD (2008) Causes for Concern: Irish Politics, Culture and Society, Liberties Press

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.