Alex Bannon

Alex2Alex Bannon tragically lost both parents before the age of 16 — her father to a heart attack and her mother to cholangiocarcinoma, a cancer that affects just 2 in 250,000 people. Now aged 18, the Sydney native shares how she manages sudden surges of grief and what we can learn from her aunty.


What is one memory with your mother & father you will always remember?

I’ll always remember how strong and brave my mum was on the day she told me  she only had two months left to live. I remember her coming into my room after I’d been crying. She saw the tears in my eyes and held my hands and looked me in the eyes and whispered “Alex, it’s okay, I’m going to be okay. I know that my prayers to God weren’t exactly answered but maybe that’s the purpose. Maybe my purpose in life was to give strength to others and die as a legacy and that’s okay. It’s time.”

In regards to my dad, I’ll always remember the countless trips to his work. He was the Marketing Manager at the Powerhouse Museum and I always wanted to go with him because I loved their chocolate pebble machine. I remember running a muck around his work but him being completely fine with it. I’ll also always remember that he was such an involved father. Even though his job kept him busy, he never missed a Father’s Day activity at school.

Your father died suddenly; did having a warning about your mother’s death lessen the pain at all? 

My father passed when I was seven years old from a heart attack. It was my brother who had found him, then me. Our mother was on a holiday in China with her two sisters but flew home immediately. I don’t think there is ever a right age or time to lose someone but with saying that, I was so young when my dad suddenly passed away.

After everything we had been through with my dad I thought nothing could ever happen to my family again. But on the 25th January 2011, my mum was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma- a rare cancer that affects just 2 in 250,000 people. I watched her go through countless chemotherapy, radiation, hallucinations, wake up in ICU. Having a parent with cancer just became part of my life, the idea that one day my mum would be cancer free gave peace to my mind, but somewhere deep down I knew it was long journey to go. We were told she’d have two months on the 22nd March 2012 when my brave mother decided to stop all treatment and spend what quality time she had left at home with her loved ones. She knew in her heart that no matter how many more needles they stick into her that she was terminal and that it was her time. 13 days later, on the 4th of April, my amazing mother sadly passed away at our home surrounded by her family and friends whom she loved.
I didn’t have as much time with my dad as I’d had with my mum. When my dad passed I wasn’t subject to thinking about every detail in the future and how his death would affect my life. But with mum it was a totally different thing because I was a teenager. Although I had a warning, I knew it was still going to hurt. I was not only grieving the fact that she was going to die but was also dealing with the loss of our future together — her being there on my wedding day and becoming a grandma. The warning didn’t necessarily lessen the pain of losing our mother-daughter bond and my only parent but being told she’d have two months left really bought everything into perspective and made me appreciate every aspect of life. That’s one thing that I always think about; that it shouldn’t take your mum to tell you she has cancer and two months left to live in order to tell her how much you love and thank her everyday for everything she has done and to appreciate everything around you.
How often do you experience surges of grief and how do you manage these? Where do you find peace?

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt is that grief isn’t a period of time that you pinpoint, experience, and then move on from. I’ve learnt that I’ll always be grieving the death of my parents, but over time can learn how to deal with it in a better way. I can never predict when I’ll experience surges of grief. It’ll catch me at the most random of times, for example, I’ll be driving and suddenly remember a memory and burst out into tears. I’ve learnt that everyone deals with grief in their own way and that if you fight your feelings, you will only make things worse for yourself. So now when I need to cry I will and when I need time alone I’ll have it. I also remind myself often that it’s okay not being strong all the time, that I can breakdown and that it’s normal. After all of this I think of a really happy memory, smile and say to myself, “Okay until next time” and continue with what I was previously doing, which I guess can be kind of weird but that’s just the how I manage my grieving.

I believe that peace is a really hard concept to define. I think that there’s a huge misconception about what it is. I think people believe that peace is something that when you have it, you’re suddenly enlightened and your set for the rest of your life. But in my opinion I believe that peace is a constant struggle. Some days you feel you have it and you feel really great but on other days you don’t and you feel really down. But peace for me means having those moments where you say to yourself “I’m going to be okay, I’m happy right now and that might change tomorrow and that’s okay, but for now I’m happy and I’m going to embrace it”. Peace for me nowadays is in the simplest of things and I believe in living for those simple things in life. Like someone picking up your pen that you dropped to someone unexpectedly making you smile and laugh. That is where I find peace; when I’m happy. And some people may read that and think that’s a really weird way of finding peace and that’s okay, but for me that is what puts a smile on my face and brings me peace. But in a spiritual perception, I know its cliché but I do find peace in natural beauty — sunrises and sunsets, starts and birds flying in the sky. I also really do believe that music has the ability to help anyone go through any situation or stage in life they’re in and that it can help him or her on the road to recovery. I’d recommend the artist Matt Corby to anyone. Music like his really soothes the mind and soul and get generally put you in a better mood and can help with one’s mind finding peace. But I know that finding peace is different for every one; it’s something I believe that you find on your own terms in your own time in life.

I also believe we write our own stories, and each time we think we know something, we don’t. Perhaps peace exists somewhere between the world of learning how to grieve and actually grieving and that in peace comes from knowing that you just can’t know it all. Life is funny that way. Once you let go of the wheel, you might end up where you belong.

Are you able to talk openly to your friends about what you have been through?

I am now at a point in my life where I can talk about what I’ve been through. If anyone, not just my friends, were to ask me I would openly tell them. I never want what has happened to me affect the conversations I have with people. I don’t want them to feel like they need to walk on seashells around me or avoid anything to do with my parents so I try and incorporate memories of my mum and dad into relevant conversations. I believe in finding the light in every situation no matter how dark it is. Just because both my parents have passed doesn’t mean their memories have too. Spirits not only stay alive just by thinking about them; I believe it’s by talking and sharing stories about them. I believe that everyone is born with the ability to change someone’s life for the better so as vulnerable as my past is, if it can help or connect anyone to a similar situation then it’s totally worth opening up about.

You currently live happily with your aunty. What can others learn from how your aunty acts towards you?

It’s really uncanny because living with my aunty was something I originally I never expected or wanted. Two months after my mum passed I made a decision to move out because I could no longer live with my mum’s partner whom she had married 5 months before she passed. I expressed how I was feeling to two of my close family friends on a Sunday in July and the next day I packed my suitcase and hand bag, shoved everything I could into both and without him knowing I moved in with a family friend. I was living with her and her daughter for six weeks and it was so great but I knew I had to figure out my next move. This ended up being my aunty’s house where I am now with two of my cousins. I’ve never looked back after making that decision and have never been happier.

I can’t pinpoint how my Aunty has helped me but I know that she is a major reason for where I am today. She always lets me know that she is there for me no matter what and would support me in any decision I make. My aunty also gave me all the time in the world; to find my own ground and get back up on my own two feet. I think that’s important for others to realise, that people will heal in their own way and time and that it shouldn’t feel forced. Something important as well that I really want to express is that no matter how much advice you have offered to you and no matter how many times someone tries to help you in their own way, that it’s important to remember that advice that has worked for someone else may not necessarily work for you. I believe that in time you find your own way of dealing with things so you should not get frustrated when you’re struggling. Also, at the end of the day no one can heal yourself but you. Advice from others can only go so far,  it’s you that has to make the decision to keep moving. It’s important to remind yourself that you’re your own person and you are finding your place in this world and if that means taking all the time in the world then so be it. I also believe it’s important to recognise that you can’t help what has happened to you in the past, but you decide where to go in future; that you are not the mistakes, the downfalls- you are what you choose to be today and how you treat the people around you. My aunty really helped me come to this understanding and I hope it’s something that more people become conscious of.


Adriana Marchione

Since losing her husband Eddie to cancer in 2007, Adriana Marchione has relied on the arts to heal and renew her life. The San Francisco-based Expressive Arts Therapist is currently working on “When The Fall Comes,” a performance project that explores grief, dreaming about dead loved ones, and the variety of ways healing after loss can take shape.


AdrianaWhere did you meet your late husband and how would you describe the relationship you shared?
My husband Eddie and I met through a community that included sober members. We had known each other for several years before we started dating. Eddie was 20 years older than I was and I always thought he was kind and handsome, yet did not consider him as someone I would date because of our age difference.  I was in a stage of life where I was visioning the relationship I wanted to have and I realized that Eddie fit the ideal I had if he had been younger.  This opened up the idea for me to ask him out, and after our first few dates we fell in love quickly and started a life together.  Our relationship was full of passion and adventure, yet also involved a lot of responsibility because he had two young kids, and we both worked hard on our careers to make a comfortable living in San Francisco.  We lived in a house by a park on the top of a big hill, and often had parties and celebrations there together.  We had a very creative life together as he was a musician and I was an artist and arts/movement therapist.  We also learned to dance tango together.  Our relationship was very deep, and spiritual in many ways.  And, it also challenging at times because of our age difference and different needs as the years went by. We were together for twelve years and it will always be one of the most significant and special relationships of my life.

What was it like to lose Eddie after a long battle with lung cancer?
Eddie was sick for two years and for much of that time we thought he would survive the cancer.  In the last few months of his life the cancer took hold very intensely and things happened very fast.  The doctors even said he has several more months to live and then he died within days.  Eddie died at home in a very lucid state, and there were many people there to help us through the dying process including hospice workers, his children and our dear friends.  He sang a death song hours before he died, which was both very sad and heart opening.  At first, I felt an incredible relief when he died because he was no longer suffering and I was extremely exhausted.  I also felt a sense of peace for many days after he passed and very taken care of by friends and family.  But overall I was so disoriented and fragile.  It was hard to function normally for weeks afterwards and I had to take everything very slow. I felt like I was in an alternative universe after the initial shock of his death.  And, then it was a long time of rebuilding my energy and organizing my life and my emotions.

What is your overriding memory of the initial period of grief?
A sense of emptiness, and a feeling that I was in a fog.  Yet, there were also times when I was very present and clear, and I felt taken care and safe.  Life felt simple and stripped down to what was most essential after such loss.

How has your grief changed with time?
It has softened over time and I feel that I am able to be more of a witness to the grief process and the circumstances of the loss. I also lost my father a year after Eddie so I had to negotiate two big losses at one time.  I realized I needed to grieve them separately and find ways to do this consciously over the years.  I do find that the pain of the loss of Eddie still can affect me in unexpected moments and places.  Recently it was the tenth anniversary of our wedding, which was held near the Point Reyes National Seashore in California.  I was surprised that I was caught with some depression, many strong memories and much sadness in response to it.  Yet, I have found that I can let in more of the good memories over time without feeling so much pain.  In the first year after Eddie’s death there were times when it was hard to remember certain things about him, or I would focus on negative experiences around the relationship and the illness leading up to his death.  I find that the loss is more integrated into my life experience now and has more neutrality rather than being a tragedy.

You work as an Expressive Arts Therapist. How have the arts personally helped you to heal?
The arts have helped heal initially when I stopped drinking alcohol in 1993, and then have continued to be an important tool for my recovery process throughout the last twenty years, and have very much guided me during my grieving process. I find that the arts can hold all of my experiences, my pain and my vision as I have renewed my life.  I have used dance, poetry, visual art and performance to illuminate my inner life, to diffuse intense emotions and to help me ‘imagine’ what is possible as I have healed from loss. They have also helped me to find a voice for my experience.  Telling my story about loss has been very freeing. The arts help me to organize my emotions and my memories in a very meaningful way and have allowed me to reach others who have also experienced significant loss. 

Tell us about When The Fall Comes and the short film you are working on.
‘When the Fall Comes’ is a performance project that chronicles the loss of a spouse and the dreams that guide the path of the one left behind. Using dance, poetry and spoken word this project shares reflections about grief, dreaming about dead loved ones, and the variety of ways healing after loss can take shape.  ‘When the Fall Comes’ was originally performed to an intimate audience at Noh Space Theater in San Francisco in January of 2013 as a personal healing ritual. Based on this experience, it has been made clear to me that a broader audience could benefit from witnessing the performance.  Therefore, I will be performing it again over a weekend at Noh Space Theater in San Francisco on October 11, 12, and 13 of 2013, as well as create a short film that documents this process of using the arts as a tool for supporting the grief process.

The hope for this project is to provide a venue for further reflection and dialogue for people who have suffered from the loss of a significant other or loved one.  We live in a culture where there are so few opportunities to honor loss and to explore the emotional and spiritual disorientation that occurs from grief.  This project aims to demonstrate that the arts can provide an opportunity to allow inexpressible feelings and experiences to be seen and heard, as well as provide a venue to come together around the topic of loss.

How can Our New Lives’ followers support your projects?
They can email me to be on my mailing list at adriana [at] creativesourcesf [dot] com and/or join my Facebook page.  I am also seeking donations to help me fund the project which can be done by contacting me directly or going to my website.