'My husband died. And my two cultures collided.'

Where I came from death was talked about and often happened at home. But when my husband died unexpectedly in Australia I found out things are a little different here and cultural differences soon came to a head. Lola Rus-Hartland on the confusion of death in a new country..

Death and birth were always a matter close to home where I grew up.

I was born and raised in The Netherlands. I moved away when I was 25 for a “bit of traveling”. Years later I arrived in Oz – and stayed.

Birth, death and dying, I have come to realise, is done differently where I come from.

My mum, aunties, cousins and neighbours all gave birth at home. A nurse would come afterwards, to look after the new mum and babes for the first 10 days after birth.

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And death … it was talked about. People were often nursed at home, where they then died. And having the body at home, or at the funeral home where one could view the body whenever one wanted, was normal also.

I assumed this was done here in Australia too.

Until my husband died unexpectedly, one month into our first pregnancy. I found out that things are a little different here.

After the autopsy his body was brought back to the funeral home. I arrived there, alone, with a parcel of fabric that I had chosen to line the coffin with. The funeral director seemed very surprised about this, but led me to the room and I replaced the crepe paper with the maroon silk I had bought.

And I thought I had opted out of washing and preparing the body myself - since I didn't think I could handle the look of his cut up body. Only later I realised I had not opted out of anything - it didn't seem to be an option in the first place.

But I did say to the funeral director, "so when you are ready with him, I want you to bring him home". He looked at me somewhat puzzled and disturbed. It suddenly occurred to me that I was in a "foreign" country and perhaps this was not an option.

I almost screamed, "WHAT? Is that illegal here or something?". The thought that I would not have his body at home with me, in the room I already lovingly prepared, was bewildering.

“Death – the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.”

He replied, "Well no, it is not illegal ... But it is not really something we do here in this country". So I knew then that it could be done but I sensed that this man may try to make it harder rather than easier for me. And a "warrior wave" came over me. I yelled at the man, "Well, then bring him home! He is MY man, where else would I want him!?"

Later, thinking back about the situation, I felt a little sorry for the man. Here he was, standing in front of a strange woman, who was pregnant, grieving and from a country where death and dying is done very differently. Anxiety, (pregnancy) hormones, grief and cultural differences were all driven to a head.

That afternoon my husband's body was brought home, put in the room and I could finally really start grieving "properly". To have the intimacy of being with him now he had gone. To feel and sense with all my being that indeed he was dead. For my psyche, my soul, my being to take this in.

I sat with him, with incense, flowers and music playing that we used to listen to together. I cried, talked, made a cuppa tea, had a friend over, sat with him, cried, talked, made a cuppa tea, another friend came over and we sat with him ... many came and went. We talked and cried together. Pots of soup were on the stove. Cakes were in the oven.

“Death – the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.”

He was home for four days, then the funeral. Much of the ceremony was at home. People were encouraged to come early and stay late. I handed out paper and pens and asked if there was anything they still needed to say to him, to find a place anywhere on the property and write it down for him. Then to either place it in the coffin or first read it out before doing so, and send it with him. This was a particularly appreciated and beautiful part of the ceremony. So many thoughts, stories and emotions shared.

After a detour bush-drive, the rest of the ceremony was at the chapel.

So many people commented on how "unusual" this funeral was. How they wished they had done this when so-and-so died. How this should be done more often. This was 20 years ago. And the wave of change is finally taking shape.

People are starting to get the courage to let their hearts direct death and dying. And create a situation where "wholesome grieving" is taking place, rather than a cold and distant, time restricted and money driven processes that leaves loved ones bewildered and lost hours after death, when the body is whisked away in a body bag, with at best a 15-minute viewing time before the coffin closes.

Oh, and of course, our baby girl was born at home - a tiny shack in the bush - eight months later.

This post originally appeared on The Drum

This article is published as part of Open Drum's callout on death and dying. Open Drum is a collaboration with ABC Open and invites readers to have their say on what's happening in news and policy debates. Read other stories submitted to Open Drum.

Lola Rus-Hartland is an ABC Open contributor.

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