A little story of my first encounter with someone who had died. Myself and my brother got on and off the school bus at my Gran’s farm house (a short walk from my house in a remote Cornish village). We were at primary school so much have been 9/10ish. We went into Gran’s farmhouse kitchen and chatted with Gran and Grandad about our day, had a drink. Then we noticed a blanket over the chair by the aga. Gran explained that Victor the elderly farm worker (who lived in a hut on the farm by choice since the war) had just died, he’d come into the kitchen to rest as he felt unwell, and had died peacefully. Gran made this normal, she said we could take down the blanket and say goodbye which we did. I remember thanking him for making us laugh so often and for helping so well on the farm. Giving him a kiss and then heading back to my house. Maybe this introduction to death, as open as it would be to meet new life and babies in the family has been a little part to play in my career as a nurse in palliative care, working in hospices and in patients own homes, supporting patients and families.
