Helping on the journey to the other side

It’s the journey everyone makes, writes Brian Byrne. The journey rarely talked about with others in any serious way, yet it’s arguably the most important one. The one to the ‘other side’.

Whether or not we believe in a god, an afterlife of some kind, our transition out of this life is inevitable. Anna Kondera from Kilcullen has been a kind of ‘bridge’ to and through that last journey for many people. “I would call myself an end of life companion,” she says, suggesting that the role she has chosen is akin to a midwife at the beginning of life, helping a new baby into the world — except at the other end of that life. “Throughout my life, with family members and friends, when they were dying I was always there. In many cases holding their hands as they died. Since I was small, I was always OK with people dying.” About ten years ago, Anna went into a cardiac arrest after an anaphylactic shock. As she describes the event herself, she did for a short time ‘go on the other side’. “I used to wonder what is dying like? Is there pain? But since that incident I have no fear of death.”

Anna’s day job is working with people with intellectual disabilities. But some time ago she decided to put what was her 'other occupation' on a more formal footing. She went to study in the USA to be a ‘doula’ to those close to the end of their lives. The term comes from the ancient Greeks, meaning ‘a woman who serves’ and in modern times typically is similar to a midwife, or someone who advises on the care of a newborn to a new mother. Or, in Anna’s case. advice and support for impending death. "Some people might want advice on how to talk to family and friends, others may want the companionable presence of a someone to sit with a loved one as their end of life approaches or some may want to talk through their own thoughts and feelings about the situation they find themselves in, either as patient or family or friend. I am happy to be of whatever would feel supportive in each person’s circumstance."

Anna does her work as an individual, but also in association with Fr Seamus Whitney of the St Patrick's Missionary Society in Kiltegan. So is her work religion-based? “When you go into the most important and difficult time of your life, you might be religious or you might not be,” she says in a calm, soft voice underlaid with the accent of her native Poland. "I am always led by the person, and the most important thing that I do is listen. People will usually talk, and they will usually at some stage ask about God, and what do I believe? When you are facing that moment, your fears, you will usually ask. There are also people who will say straight out that they don't believe, and I have to respect that."

It’s Anna’s belief that 'we all believe in something'. That what we believe can have different names, but it all comes back to the same thing. She comes from a Christian family in Poland. "It was quite religious, quite strict. But I discovered the religious faith I have through my own personal life." She recalls a childhood with much time spent with her granny in the forest. "She taught me so much about nature, about the seasons of life. For every problem you face, you can find the answer in nature, a full acceptance of what you are or what you are going through." It was the nature around Kilcullen that attracted Anna to the town, when she moved there from Naas five years ago. "I recharge my batteries when I walk in the nature spaces around Kilcullen."

Clients hear of her through others she has worked with. Sometimes it’s the family who approaches, sometimes the dying person themselves. “One woman called me on the day that she received a terminal diagnosis. She didn’t want her family to know yet, but she wanted to talk about what was coming. Sometimes it’s family who introduces me. Often they don't want to say the word 'death', but they introduce me as a friend who will sit with the person for a few hours while they are away. It goes from there, usually while talking with the person the subject will naturally come up, because we all carry this, and we all feel it.”

There's nothing routine about being a doula to the end of life. Anna has experienced the process of death with all ages, genders, and situations. "It is different with the demographic, with the cultures, with the nationalities. Everyone is different, everyone is individual. With children who die, who are little angels, it can be unbearable for families, but the child will show us how to go to the other side. But at that moment, they too need someone to be with them."

The most important part of her work, Anna says, is to stay with the person to the end. "I will prepare the person to own the time, to cherish the last moment, the moment that is not going to happen again. When I am working only with the dying person, they may want me to bring their conversations and thoughts back to their loved ones, and I will write those down. It's all a very complex thing."

In every death, she says, there comes a moment of surrender. "Sometimes people will fight and fight, until they come to the stage, the minute, the few moments, when they give up. And, holding their hand at the moment that they surrender, you will feel the peace." And what does Anna feel herself at that moment? "Love," she says simply. "I just feel that I want to hug somebody and hold them in my arms. That's what I feel, and it is a privilege."

Counselling of the family before and after the event of dying is another part of what Anna does. "Every death is different and the person will behave in different ways. A very short time before death I will prepare the family. And I have to try and prepare the family not to hold on, because when the person who is dying is ready, they must be let go. But then, after the person has gone, my work isn't finished, the family are still there, grieving." At key times afterwards, a month, a year, she is available to talk with them. 

"I am still in contact with almost all of them," she says."It is indeed a privilege."

Anna can be contacted on 087 3192068

This article was first published in The Kildare Nationalist.

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