My mum died at home in the late, late evening. This was a good thing considering the fact that we were all with her except my children – who were sound asleep at the time (I seriously sometimes think that she had it all planned)! After her death (which by itself was a beautiful and peaceful experience), my aunts and I dressed her in the beautiful outfit my mum and I bought together in Amsterdam for her birthday, only seven weeks before.

When my daughter, who just turned three, woke up the next morning, I explained to her that because oma had been so very, very ill, she now died and she could never play with her anymore. I told her that oma was very beautiful and we could go and look at her and talk to her, and that in a couple of days oma would be put in a casket — just like Snow White.  She replied that in that case, surely all the flowers would be weeping, like what happens in the Snow White book we have.

When I took her to the room to see her oma, she said ‘what a beautiful girl!’, sat next to her and admired the beautiful outfit. She wondered why oma was wearing shoes in bed – and that was it.

My mum stayed in the house until the funeral four days later, and in these days my daughter picked flowers for her, sat next to her and every now and then read her a story (roles reversed).
The moment my mum was put in the casket she wasn’t surprised.  After all, this is just what happened to Snow White!

All of this was never traumatic but instead a very natural experience; it brought us all close together and gave death a place in life. I’m glad my children were there to be a part of this (and of course to be the living proof that life really goes on).

xxx Esther