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Dealing with Bereavement

It's one of the big cliches to say that there is no right and wrong when it comes to dealing with the death of someone close and I am a strong believer in that being true. Whatever it takes to get you through really is the only rule as what works for one may not be appropriate for the next person. That said whilst there may be no hard and fast rules it always pays to share ideas as comfort can often be found in other peoples experiences.

My father was an active, strong, happy and well balanced person, never over indulging in any vices, he didn't smoke or over eat, drank in social moderation and generally looked after himself. When a heart condition took him within seconds, it was a major blow to all of the family and we all dealt with it in different ways. I found that with all the things that needed to be arranged for the funeral it was not until after the funeral that much of what had happened really hit me. I made a deliberate choice that I didn't want to see Dad in the Chapel of Rest, it seemed more naturally to want to remember him in the full trappings of his life rather than after the spark had left him. Its different for everyone and some people may feel the need to say one last goodbye, though in my mind the life force that made my father what he was had already left his physical form. To my mind the way I wanted to remember him was on my Sunday lunchtime visits, Radio four is projecting the comic wit of the likes of Paul Merton or Tim Brooke-Taylor from a small radio in the corner, the various component parts of a glorious Sunday roast are steaming up the kitchen and filling the room with mouth watering aroma and myself and my parents all flit between doing attending to the forthcoming meal and finishing the crossword in the Sunday papers. That image of wholesome domesticity is the one that I wish to hold in my head, that summed Dad up best to me.

Grieving can catch you unaware. Its not the obvious things such as family meals and reminiscing that seem to have the biggest effect but the small unexpected things that take you by surprise. The thing that knocked me slightly was one day at work when doggedly scrubbing oil from my hands in the wash room. Some one had changed the brand of detergent to the one that my father always used in his workshop and the smell of that substance brought back a flood of thought that brought a tear to my eyes. Sometimes it's the smallest things.

It's also a time that makes you think deeply about what

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