Loss & Grief by Sylvia

 “While you are still reeling from the shock of the death, the waves of the tsunami come surging in through your beach and you find yourself struggling to stay afloat above the maelstrom. Every fibre of your body is experiencing the loss and it is affecting everything.”

 Katrina Taee and Wendelien Mcnicoll – Surviving the Tsunami of Grief.

I have been reflecting for a long time as to how I took the path to become a Soul Midwife and two significant events stand out. The first was my father’s death in 1980 on my 24th birthday and the second was my mother’s death 38 years later (more about this another time).

Dad was only 49 years old when he died. He had recently been in hospital but was expected to recover, albeit with a chronic condition. He was a proud Welshman, an international fly fisherman, a brilliant mathematician and the life and soul of any gathering. I was married, with two children, but to my dad I was still his little girl. Shortly before he died, he rang me from his hospital bed. The call lasted over an hour and, amongst other things, he spoke of not being able to work again but would now have the time to do things with my mother, one of those being a holiday with my family. When I thought back on that call, it seemed strange as my dad rarely called me, normally waiting for his turn to speak when I called home. It left me wondering what was going on.

When the phone rang at 6am on the 13th August 1980, I knew that my father had died. My brother explained that he’d passed away peacefully in the early hours of that morning. The shock hit me like a tsunami – I was his little girl, their first-born child and the only girl in the family. I remember how angry I felt - why did he die on my birthday? Why had he smoked all his life? Anger turned to sadness – he wouldn’t see his grandchildren grow up, he wouldn’t be part of family events, he wouldn’t grow old alongside my mother and have a happy retirement doing the things they planned to do.

Grief is very personal. You can go days with just a passing thought of your loved one, then spend days lost in despair and pain. I cried when I was alone, when I saw a programme on television that I knew my father would have liked, when my children spoke in Welsh (Grampa would have been so proud); in fact, it took little to set the tears flowing.

I held on to this grief and loss for several years. Each passing birthday was a reminder that dad wasn’t around. As my children reached school age, he wasn’t there to hear about their achievements: winning poetry competitions, having a role in the school play, being part of a gymnastics team. I often spoke to him, but he still wasn’t there at the end of the phone. As the years passed, my grief diminished, and I was able to make sense of his death. I could allow myself to be happy on my birthday and even celebrated with family on the day itself.

Reflecting on his death, I knew he’d died at home, in his own bed and had passed peacefully. I also knew that he was aware that he was dying – mum had told me that the day before he died he’d stood at the bedroom window and told her how beautiful the flowers were in the garden across the road (it was a big field with no flowers growing there) and had asked for his mother and told her he was on his way. I’ve heard many people say that calling for your mother is common in the final stages of dying.

However, I was not there during his last few days. I didn’t know that there are signs which can point to a soul beginning the transition to another place. Soul Midwifery has since opened my eyes and heart to ways in which I can be a part of the process of providing holistic and spiritual care at the end of life.

This was my first encounter with the death of a loved one. Over the years it has become less painful and I can remember with a little smile the funny, supportive (he was a firm believer in women having the same rights as men) hard working and gentle man that I called Daddy.

In my last piece on Soul Midwifery, I introduced you to Sandalwood. Today it’s the turn of Frankincense!

Frankincense Essential Oil

The Oil of Spirituality

Frankincense (also known as The King of Oils) was highly prized in the ancient world and has been traded in the Arabian Peninsula for more than 5,000 years. It is a holy oil in the Middle East. As an active ingredient in holy incense, it was used during sacrificial ceremonies to help improve communication with the creator. The Egyptians cleansed body cavities with frankincense and natron (also known as native soda, a natural compound of sodium salts) as part of the mummification process. It was one of the three gifts given to Jesus by the Magi.

The oil is steam distilled from the resin of trees belonging to the Boswellia family. It is sourced from Africa, Somalia, Yemen, Saudi Arabia and India. The name Frankincense is from the old French word franc encens (high quality incense). It is pale yellow or green in colour with and smells musty with underlying notes of spice and citrus.  

In Soul Midwifery it ‘Aligns Spirit and Soul with the Divine’. Frankincense is part of our toolbox of Sacred oils that we use to help the dying when they are in any spiritual crisis or feeling apathetic and sad. It helps to repair soul wounds from previous lives and acts as a soothing and healing balm.