7th February 2023 - Breaking The News
The day I had to tell my children that their father was dead was one of the worst days of my life.
I received a phone call in the morning to tell me that Dan had been found hanging in his boat by his co-workers when they went to The Kraken after he failed to come to work for two days.
My two younger children, Ivy and Taiga were at school, and Holly, my eldest was at home that day.
I knew immediately that I wanted to tell them all together, so I didn’t tell Holly when I found out in the morning. I sent her off to the market on some shopping errands while I made a couple of phone calls to close friends about Dan’s death.
The morning seemed to pass in slow motion, and when Holly returned from the market, full of the joys of a carefree child, I knew that the news that I was holding inside would change that carefree innocence forever. Acting like everything was ok, whilst holding this tragic information was also one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I am not good at wearing masks and holding back on truth. But I knew that my children would remember this day for as long as they lived, and I wanted to do it right. If there is such a things as the right way to tell your children that their father is dead.
We had another few hours until we needed to pick the other two up from school, so Holly and I walked the beautiful Finca Road which runs alongside Lake Atitlan, from San Pedro volcano, where our house is, to San Pedro town, which is located just off to the side of the awesome towering volcano.
We stopped for cake at Cafe Orbe, half way along. This was where we had all last seen Dan alive, on his last night in Guatemala three weeks before. We had shared a Last Supper together, our last meal as a family. And when the time came for him to leave, Holly clung to him and cried, refusing to let go, as if she would never see him again.
Holly has The Knowing. I have never seen her like that. Her Soul knew that she would indeed never see him again.
And so I took her for a piece of the best cake in town, to bring her one last taste of sweetness, before the bitter, bitter truth was told.
We then picked Ivy and Taiga up from school. When we returned back to our house, our beautiful house at the bottom of San Pedro Volcano, overlooking the stunning Lake Atitlan, I opened the gate and asked the children to stop and wait.
I asked them to look at the view, and to tell me what they could see that they loved.
They didn’t hesitate to reply …
“The Lake!”, “Our Chickens!”, “Our House, Casa Castillo!”, “The Mountains!”, “Our Garden!”, “Bobby !! Our Dog !!”
“Everything that you can see has the power to heal you from anything.” I told them.
“Mother Nature holds the power to heal the deepest wounds, my loves. Never Forget that.”
“Mummy, I feel like you’re leading up to something”, piped up the ever-perceptive Ivy.
“Yes, I am. Come into the house and come upstairs with me” I replied.
“Now I really feel like you’re leading up to something” she retorted as they followed me into the house.
The beautiful octagonal tower room in our house, the only upstairs room, is my healing space and office. I sat them all down and handed them each a shungite crystal in an attempt to soften the impact of the devastating news that I was about to tell them.
“What is it Mummy?” They asked me
“You know that I have been telling you for the last six weeks that we may get a phone call soon to tell us that one of our loved ones has died?…. Well, this morning I received that phone call” I said.
They all looked at me wide eyed in shocked expectation.
“So has Ouma died?” Asked Holly immediately.
“No”, I replied. “Daddy is dead”.
All three of them looked at me and each other for a moment, in disbelief. But as they saw the tears start pouring down my face, they let out the most primal wails I have ever heard.
High pitched, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking wails of deep, deep anguish.
I have never heard a sound like it, and I hope never to hear it again. This cacophony of Soul Pain went on for about 5 minutes, but it seemed like forever.
Eventually, as the initial impact gave way to curiosity, Ivy asked me “How ? What happened ?”
I knew the there was no point in beating around the bush. They would have to find out sooner or later, and I don’t believe in lying to my children, even about situations as serious as this.
“He killed himself”. I replied.
“What ?”, they all looked at me in disbelief. “How ?”
“He hanged himself with a rope in The Kraken”.
Another round of wailing ensued, and we all held each other and cried for a long time.
An hour or so later, I received a call from Dan’s sister, Emily.
She and I had always been close, but since Dan and I separated, we had drifted apart somewhat, losing regular contact with one another.
That afternoon, we spent about three hours talking on the phone, supporting each other through the shock and disbelief of what had happened, and a strong and beautiful re-connection was kindled through our shared experience of the devastating loss of Dan from our lives.
Later that evening, Holly said to me “Mummy, I’ve got a headache”
“Grief brings up all sorts of strange responses in your body and your emotions, Holly. You’ve had a huge shock. It’s late, lets go to bed. A good night’s sleep will probably clear it.”