When my father died, he was 59 and I was 22. In February, he was declared ‘untreatable’. In August, it was time. He died of lung cancer. He smoked and drank a lot during his life. I didn’t know him any differently. I was afraid of him, angry with him and experienced a great distance. I felt powerless, alone and often full of shame. All the emotions that go hand in hand with grief. Grief for the father I didn’t have. Grief that I didn’t recognise at the time and that wasn’t recognised by others either. Everyone in the family was alone with it.

The months he was dying are etched in my memory: he stopped smoking and drinking. We, his children and my mother took care of him. That this was possible and that he allowed it, is still the greatest gift I ever received: I got back the father I had lost at a young age. He gave us that gift by accepting his life and his death. He died in peace. My brother gave a speech at his funeral. I have always remembered one sentence from it: “It is questionable whether we would have done better than you.”

I wish such a process of acceptance and surrender for everyone who dies and their relatives. In this way, death, despite the loss, can also be a gift. An opening to love. I am happy to contribute to that.