When children grow up and start their own families, it's rare that parents get to have them all to themselves again, without partners or children in tow. But when Sinead Moriarty's father died suddenly while on holiday in Spain with her mother, that's exactly what happened, and what followed was an unexpectedly precious time.
"Nothing moves very quickly in Spain and the insurance company assured us that it would be at least four to five days before we could fly the coffin home."
In May last year, my father died very suddenly of a heart-attack. He was seventy six. He died while on holiday in Spain with my mum. Some holiday she had!
Late one night my brother rang to say things were not good. My brother, sister and I flew out on the first flight to Spain, but Dad was dead by the time we got there. It’s the small acts of kindness that I remember most. The taxi driver silently handing me tissues as I sobbed from the airport to the hospital. The surgeon who valiantly tried to explain in broken English what had gone wrong.
It’s very surreal to be grieving your father’s death under blue skies and palm trees. We sat in cafés in the hot sun, shocked and stunned, sweating in our winter clothes.
Beside us the sound of the waves on the sand and people eating ice creams and building sandcastles – I can't imagine a more surreal setting.
The strange thing was, while we were all desperate to get Dad’s body home and to get back to Dublin to family and friends, those four days being stuck in Spain ended up being very precious.
Nothing moves very quickly in Spain and the insurance company assured us that it would be at least four to five days before we could fly the coffin home. We were initially upset and frustrated. But it ended up being a good thing. We were alone, just the four of us. No kids, no spouses. Just us and Mum. Every mother or father with adult children knows how rare it is to have all of their children with them alone. It’s special, it reminds you of the old days, before spouses and kids came along - sitting around the kitchen table at dinner, chatting.
We talked, we laughed, we cried, we reminisced. We spent four precious days grieving without the doorbell constantly ringing and people calling in and our parents' house being crammed full of friends and family. Four precious days alone, four days to come to terms with our shock and grief.
When your children leave home and start their own families, you lose them. They’re so busy all the time and when they do call in they will have a baby or child or husband or wife with them.
The days of having them to yourself is over. It’s hard to lose that, hard to let that go.
There we were in sunny Spain in our winter coats, together again, except we were missing one very important person – Dad. We talked, we laughed, we cried, we reminisced. We spent four precious days grieving without the doorbell constantly ringing and people calling in and our parents’ house being crammed full of friends and family. Four precious days alone, four days to come to terms with our shock and grief.
We knew when we got home that it would be manic and it was. But manic in the best possible way. Family, friends and colleagues descended on the house to pay their respects, to grieve with us and to tell us how much Dad had meant to them. It was wonderful, moving and so very kind and generous. We were overwhelmed with people's compassion and sympathy.
But I will always treasure those first few days 'stuck in Spain' when it was just us. Just the four of us crying, laughing and remembering Dad.
Did you experience kindness from strangers when you suffered a loss? Do you think grief gives you a different perspective on life? Does grief make you a more or less compassionate person? Did anyone say anything completely inappropriate or bizarre to you? At Dad's funeral someone asked me what perfume I was wearing?!?!
Sinead's book The Way We Were is published by Penguin and available from Amazon now.
By Sinead Moriarty
Twitter: @sinead_moriarty
Registering is free, easy, and means you can join the discussion, watch threads and lots more.
Register now »Already registered? Log in with:
Gransnet »
