The human psyche isn't wired to accept a child dying — that bereavement lasts forever

For Cork father and former company director Tony Mahon, 2012 was the worst year. His wife, Elma, was diagnosed with cancer in June and his youngest daughter, Alma, tragically passed away within a month, aged just 24. The 74-year-old talks to Helen O’Callaghan about living with grief and the importance of seeking support

Tony Mahon: 'I know I’ll have some great days, great months, maybe great half-years and then, out of the blue, for no apparent reason, I’ll get triggered.' Picture: Larry Cummins

Losing a child is not natural and I realised there’s no right time to seek grief support.

Our daughter, Alma — the baby of the family, born 10 years after our other four children — was an incredible person.

I spoke with Alma on the evening of July 4, 2012. She was full of beans, sharing her plans for the next day, talking about coming over to the house to help out. Her mum, Elma, my wife, had been diagnosed with cancer the month before; she’d had her kidney removed, and the operation was successful.

The following morning, lying in bed, 5am, I heard this constant pecking; I thought it was crows that had come pecking at the window-frame or the roof. It went on for an eternity, and I realised — that’s somebody knocking on the door.

I opened the blinds... the squad car outside, two gardaí. Alma had got sick in her sleep that night and choked. She had passed away. The gardaí were superb; they came into the house, started making tea, tried to comfort Elma after hearing she was just out of hospital.

The grief… I didn’t deal with it. I had Elma to look after. Not only had she lost a daughter, but she was also medically unwell. And we took on Alma’s son, and I was running a career. 

I attended an Anam Cara parent bereavement support meeting shortly after Alma’s death. It didn’t connect with me then. I just couldn’t hack it. I was stuck in my own emotion, wasn’t able to handle others’.

Tony Mahon spoke with reporter Helen O'Callaghan ahead of the Anam Cara fundraising luncheon at Maryborough Hotel on Friday, 30 October, 2026. Picture: Larry Cummins

I found it draining. Talk to people in general who’ve had a bereavement; nine times out of 10, it’ll have been their mother, their father. They’ll be emotionally upset, but six months later they’re back in life, right as rain — if the parent was 80 and had a good life, they’re sad they’re gone, but it’s the natural progression.

I don’t think the human psyche is wired to accept a child dying, or to understand it. 

It’s a bereavement that goes on forever, ever, ever. 

You can be fine for months and all of a sudden you get a sniper and it can take any format — something you see in a film, something on the evening news — and you’re back into an emotional wreck. It comes so suddenly and it absolutely knocks you over. You’re torn within and you start questioning: Are you sane?

Irish people handle death very well, but it’s usually the death of a parent. We know how to wake them, how to grieve, how to carry on in life after. We’re ‘mentally trained’ to understand that, so automatically. 

And even when it’s a child who has died, people make comments like: “I understand what you’re going through at the moment; you’ll be grand in six months to a year; you’ll be able to put it all behind you.”

And I do believe nobody comes trying to hurt you. They deliver words they genuinely believe will support you, but sometimes these words are soul-destroying. People say: “You need a good holiday, put all this behind you, get on with your life; you’ve got your wife to look after, and your grandson.”

Tony Mahon: 'I don’t think the human psyche is wired to accept a child dying, or to understand it. It’s a bereavement that goes on forever, ever, ever.' Picture: Larry Cummins

And yeah, you’ve got to do all that, but you have this thing in the background — guilt, grief, somebody 24 years old with all their life ahead, full of beans, gone.

In the early days, this is coming at you from everywhere and you’re trying to cope with this loss... Months after Alma died, seeing someone I hadn’t seen in a while walking down the road, seeing them cross the road, going a different way because they didn’t know what to say to me, avoiding me for fear of hurting me. 

One guy in a Dublin car park — he’d been a priest but had left — approached. He said: “I don’t know how to sympathise with you, what you have lost... there are no words I can share with you to comfort you, but please be aware I am praying for you.”

Admitting he couldn’t imagine losing a child, he wanted to comfort but couldn’t find words; he realised there were none, yet he wanted me to know he was there to support. It did help, a little; it definitely stuck with me.

I was on Anam Cara’s database. I answered one of their surveys. On the question of volunteering, I said I could lend my commercial experience if they felt that relevant. I went on Anam Cara’s board in about 2016.

Tony Mahon: 'The grief… I didn’t deal with it. I had Elma to look after. Not only had she lost a daughter, but she was also medically unwell.' Picture: Larry Cummins

I started attending the support meetings and ended up getting hooked. The shift happened when I met a man who’d lost his son 40 years before. He’d been carrying that bereavement all that time. I realised there’s no right time to seek grief support after your child dies.

I knew I was going off my game and that this ginormous grief needed to be managed somehow. I realised there’s a nucleus of people suffering the same thing, though the grief is carried in varied ways by different people.

I know I’ll have some great days, great months, maybe great half-years and then out of the blue, for no apparent reason, I’ll get triggered. Anam Cara has helped me manage the emotion, to accept the sniper and understand that, yeah, I can have my quiet moment of emotion, and I can move on to the next moment.

• Anam Cara’s Cork fundraising lunch featuring keynote speaker Marie Gleeson will take place on Friday, October 30, at Maryborough Hotel. The event will help raise essential funds to continue providing free support services to bereaved parents whose child has died. Contact [e-mail]