Understanding Death. Death Comes as the End? Or Is It All in the Eye Of The Observer? Part 4 – Andreas

During Kaiti’s illness, her husband Andreas and I had work131031ed together for her healing with an unspoken understanding of where each one’s responsibilities lay. After she died, I felt it appropriate to step back and only engage when invited to do so. I always feel there is a delicate line that needed to be walked between being helpful to a grieving family, and being intrusive. I was grieving  too.

We really only saw each other during the memorials, which during the first year are held first after four weeks, then every 3 months. I found these very difficult in terms of their family circumstance (there had been some disagreements), and in the end I only went to support my godmother.

One day in January, two years after Kaiti passed, I was preparing to teach in London. Gabriella was with me, down from school in Wales. Effie had flown in from Cyprus and we were just chatting before  it started when Effie asked me if I had heard about Andreas.

“No,” I said, thinking “Now what?”.

“He suffocated on some bulgur wheat he was eating for lunch, and died,” said Effie, just like that. It had happened several weeks ago. No one from my Cypriot family had told me. I had been travelling but still…

It seemed for me that time stopped. Gabriella looked stricken, shocked – he was her godfather – and my first response was for her. “Hold your energy,” I said to her. “We’ll deal with this later.”  In 20 minutes I had to deliver a half-day seminar to an audience of which she was a part and I had to put personal feelings aside. Then we would sort it out between us.

As soon as I got back to Cyprus several days later I went to see my godmother. “What do I tell you,” she said. “He died. You were not here.” That’s it. The day before I visited, his father had also died suddenly from a massive heart attack, the day before Andreas’s 4-week memorial. They were in mourning twice over.

A few months later, after a very long day working in Nicosia, I was parking my car outside our garage at home when I saw a shadow to my far left, just behind my husband’s car. “That’s funny,” I thought. It’s nearly midnight and Ken’s not normally awake at this time. “I hope nothing’s wrong,” I thought to  myself.

The next thing I knew, as I was getting out of my car, the shadow was on my right. It was Andreas. I knew he had come to express something and I was the only one tuned in enough to be able to receive it. He had to stay outside because my home is energetically protected so very little can get in without permission (mine).

“Andreas,” I said. “I can’t talk to you now. It had been a 17-hour day since I left home. “I’ll come to see you tomorrow.”

The next day I went to the cemetery. He had missed being buried right next to Kaiti by just a few weeks. Only one grave separated them.

“I couldn’t go on without her,” he told me when I tuned in. “I tried my best for two years but it was just too much.”

It sounds trite now even to write this, but at the time it was profound and I’m never blasé about this or any part of my work. The energy needed to be expressed, to be heard in order to be released, then he would be at peace and could move on. My teachers have always taught me that people always die at exactly the right time for them and there is nothing we can do about it. Even though we all have exit points along our life journey, we pick the one that is just right, not only for ourselves, for all around us. Everything we do has impact upon everything else, and because we are taught to be afraid of death, to see that it is the end of life rather than the beginning of something even more splendid in terms of our growth, we don’t see this. We only grieve what was lost, sometimes for the rest of that life and beyond.

My godparents have moved into Kaiti and Andreas’s house now to take care of the children. Elderly themselves, they do their best. Whenever I go to see them, which is seldom now, I only feel Kaiti’s energy around, not Andreas’s. To me this means that all of him has gone into the light, complete. She’s only around to watch over her children and her parents, and this is appropriate.

I’m sure you all have your own stories to tell. I share this because my wish is for you all to see that this sort of experience is nothing strange, nothing new. You all have them.  Everything is about energy – consciousness, awareness – it’s how you are able to tune in, interpret and most importantly, learn how to use it with love to enhance life, that makes our lives so special. So precious, because in reality, Life really is.

Do you have any experiences to share? Please leave a comment here so other’s can share and grow too through you.


  1. Mina Ficarra
    Nov 12, 2014 @ 13:56:00

    When death comes at the end of a long illness the overwhelming feeling is one of relief. Well at least it was for me. It’s only now that I ask myself did my father who suffered from Dementia for 6 years feel the same way? I never considered that he battled for so long because he chose to. I had always felt that he continued to live because of the relentless care that my mother provided. Medical intervention after medical intervention to save him. Maybe he knew that she could not let him go or maybe he was not ready to go himself. For me having had a medical background I knew his prognosis was not good. I accepted this and chose to spend the time left being by his side. He had always been a man with such a beautiful mind and his illness had stripped his expression of this. Towards the end there were several occasions when he would look at me (not through me which was usual) with pain in his face and take my hand holding it tightly. I felt how hard living had become for him. After he died I felt a great deal of guilt because I hadn’t been prepared to fight for his life in the same way as my other family members did. Being with him was all that felt right at the time.

  2. Anna Hughes
    Nov 18, 2014 @ 17:15:42

    Mina, thank you for your lovely thoughts which I’m sure have crossed the mind of many in the same situation. Many years ago my teachers taught me that we cannot hold the will to live for anyone, irrespective, we can only do what we feel moved to do, either for ourselves in this situation, or for them. Peace comes when we know and accept this. And to know also that in each of our lives, we have many exit points which Soul takes at exactly the right moment for that person. Ultimately, whether we do, or we don’t – for anyone, including ourselves – this is immoveable. Love, Anna x

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