tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6984858197876971182024-03-12T16:45:09.729-07:00THE SHROUDING SISTERSUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-61361218085170250812017-11-21T14:50:00.002-08:002017-11-21T14:50:51.872-08:00Shrouded in Mystery No More: How My Sister Lived through her First Home Funeral<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dear Readers,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let me begin by saying that this whole post is dedicated to my sister, Denni, who managed somehow to get outside of her fear and disgust with all bodily secretions in order that she might help me with Kate's home funeral. All her life, Denni has avoided the sights and smells of what comes out of our orifices. I can still see her fanning the air vigorously while changing one of her children's diapers; gagging over the sight of blood when someone got a scrape; running at MACH speed to avoid someone in the process of vomiting. Me? I was captivated by it all, and still am. These are signs of LIFE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On July 8th, we had been in Hickory, North Carolina all day visiting our father who was declining rapidly. I absconded for an hour or so to go over and visit with Deloy and Kate, friends who I had been companioning since November when Deloy called me and told me Kate's breast cancer had returned. "Sara," he said, "I expect I'll be needing a home funeral guide at some point. Will you help me?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Clearly, on this day, eight months after that first phone call, Kate was actively dying. Deloy had been a vigilant caretaker, and as a physician could often make suggestions to Kate's medical team. I sometimes wondered if Kate would ever grow tired of the additional radiation and chemotherapy, or the feeding tube, but she never faltered. Not until the last couple of weeks when the metastases were just hell-bent on having their own way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I had grown so fond of visiting them both, and it was easy enough to do because their home was only about 15 minutes from Dad's assisted living facility. So we grew in our comfort and friendship, even when that meant discussing Kate's eventual death and what she wanted to happen. Kate admitted that the first time she met me she didn't know what to think, because my "energy" was confusing (!). "Then I realized you just had a big ole' heart and wanted to genuinely help." Thanks, Kate, for putting your trust in me, and for the gift of your friendship and allowing me to care for you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Denni and I returned to Winston-Salem, an hour away, after my brief visit with Kate and our visit with Dad. We decided to go have dinner and unwind, thoroughly relaxing over our fabulous food and wine. Once back at Denni's house, my phone rang. I could see it was Deloy calling. "Sara, Kate just died" he told me. It was about 7:30pm, and I asked him if he wanted me to come now or wait until the early morning. "I really want you to come tonight." So I told him I would be there in a little over an hour. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"WAIT! I WILL GO WITH YOU!" Denni said. (was I hearing things???) "You can't go back by yourself so I will go with you!" Is she serious? She wanted to accompany me on this home funeral? My little sister who really isn't quite sure about what I do, but knows enough to stay pretty far away and not ask questions? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then I remembered. I remembered how this is what happens with home funerals. People come together, work together, love together. And my sister---the one who can't abide even thinking about bodily fluids (you know...spit, serum, snot and shit)---she was the one who was a force of love that night, even though she had no idea what to expect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When we arrived, I hugged the heck out of Deloy and he led me back to their bedroom where I had seen and spoken to Kate just hours before. I had an immediate epiphany about how to capture in a photograph what I wanted to share with the WORLD. See, people? ANYBODY CAN GET READY FOR AND DO A HOME FUNERAL!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Heres what I saw when I arrived, and you can see how easy and simple it was to freeze water in bottles to act like dry ice until you can get some dry ice in the house (or better yet, order some Techni Ice ahead of time). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so we began...Kate's loving community: Deloy, his two sons Cory and Brandon, Celia and her husband Jose, a part of this family for so many years, and neighbors Kim and Martha. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And there was Denni, all the while at the bedroom door's threshold, taking pictures and videos with her cell phone. <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1HKYhp9LJ64UXplU0loNkJVU2taeUpFR1JlOWk5RmhwS2dr/view?usp=sharing" target="_blank"> I will include one of my favorites here </a>because it shows Celia reaching out to Deloy as they are anointing the body of their beloved Kate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Everything else was just as beautiful...family and friends working together in love as we prepared Kate to lay in state for three days so other family and friends could come be with her in a home setting. There was laughter; there were tears; there was so much love in that house it was palpable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And there was my sister, capturing it all, who would tell me later as we drove back home how this had been a life-changing event for her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And I think really that's what it's all about. How we reach out and educate our family and friends, however "gross" they may perceive this work to be, one home funeral at a time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-19839532522431596212017-05-03T15:04:00.001-07:002017-05-03T15:04:53.465-07:00The Moving Finger Writes; and...YIPES!<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So I remember back in the summer of 2014, when I was plotting how to begin a Death Cafe in our quaint little city, I came across the funniest stories about the use of the name "Death Cafe." People apparently didn't cotton to it all the time, thinking it cast "doom and gloom" on any social atmosphere. Like, how were you supposed to be convivial and congenial with nomenclature like DEATH defining your surroundings? Wouldn't it boost attendance if you took the word "death" out of the name? Or, how about people interpreting this to mean that the particular coffee shop/tea room/diner/eatery where you would be meeting had big health and/or sanitation problems and that people who came in and ate or drank there DIED. Or even (seriously) some asking whether this was a club for people with HEARING problems? (DEAF Cafe!!?) But the semantics <i>coup de grace</i> was to encounter something so bizarre and so radical that I had to do a double-take and then go back and get a picture! This was my second time hosting a Death Cafe at a local CCRC (Continuing Care Retirement Community) with a group of really engaging and inquisitive souls, and I am quite sure that it was NOT one of them who reserved our space under the name....(are you ready???)....DEATH SQUAD!!!!! But there it is, on the reservations diary, for all the world to see. I only wish I had taken the picture before our meeting, and not after, since apparently you get "stricken" to show meeting has already occurred. Death Squad!!!?? That must be the ultimate in cultural aversion tactics! Clearly, a lot of work remains to be done as we carry on these conversations and engage in musings on our mortality. Which reminds me...I am available to come talk to your group/organization/crowd/crew...or dare I say SQUAD whenever you are ready!!!</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-83154242906923467152017-04-24T08:45:00.002-07:002017-05-01T06:57:43.729-07:00Who's Taking Out the Trash??!!??<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Recently I heard the NICEST married couple proclaim that they were DEAD SET on going out of this world anonymously. They loved the idea of donating their bodies to medical schools first and foremost. But if for any reason that would not work out, they were choosing to have a green burial. And they needed me to make sure that the cemetery they had in mind would bury them without any sort of marker. "We just want to be thrown in the woods!" Well, as it turns out, said cemetery is happy to oblige. They *can* be buried without a marker, and the administrative office will always keep information on their plot whereabouts in a file should anybody ever want to go visit. Grave sites are GPS'ed anyway as well. (that's hi-falutin' talk for Global Positioning System)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But honestly...that declaration of the old marrieds made me SAD. How could anybody want to leave this world without thinking a little bit about the family and friends they were leaving behind? What of THEIR needs...to remember, to ritualize, to ramble or rove to a marked location as they work through their grief? And oh yeah. Had they thought about generations to come after them? How they might like to visit a marked grave full of familial pride after having done genealogical research on their great great (or even more greats!) grandparents? </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And extra credit for anyone knowing what a </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">taphophile </i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">is! How can they enjoy their hobby if you're in an unmarked grave? </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just sayin'...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The simple truth is, somebody is left behind with the task of disposing of your body---"taking out the trash," if you will (thanks, Anne Weston for this great line!!),---and just throwing you out to the woods, leaving no trace of your life and legacy, seems a crime. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My desire is to put one big honkin' angel on my own grave. She might be weeping (I'm a lot to worry about!!), she might just be standing tall and beautiful, keeping haints away from me and my other cemetery buddies. The point is, I am happy for my family and friends to know exactly where I am so they can throw a shindig at the grave every year on the anniversary of my death. So my grandchildren and future grandchildren can find "Berry's" final resting place and remember me with peonies and poems. Lavender and laughter. Yes, remember me...as I will remember you.</span><br />
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<img alt="Image result for big angel in cemetery" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a2/6c/b5/a26cb586f883afcf19dad296f6c873da.jpg" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-49528136590811573282016-12-16T15:01:00.000-08:002016-12-16T18:02:04.557-08:00WRITES OF PASSAGE<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's the post-Thanksgiving holiday season...time of angels and angst; beauty and the blahs; carols and crises. We came to the table to give thanks last month, and if it was anything like my day, things were so rushed I couldn't even get the luncheon guests to say a blessing. Also on my mind were the memories of Thanksgivings past and all those precious loved ones no longer at the table with us. Our blessed ancestors. To honor these beloved deads, there is a tradition in many cultures around the world of setting a place for them at the table. Holding space for grief and remembrance. In the dark season, offering up a prayer in the tradition of those very ancestors to persuade the return of the light.<br />A friend from my local Death Cafe shared with me his family's new tradition, and I was so impressed I vowed to John that I would share it on my blog. And so...in his words (almost all!!) and with his picture, read about how we can pay homage to all those precious people, passed on, but never forgotten.</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">This was our first year without my mother at the table. With that as a starting point we began to think of so many previous Thanksgiving meals with family and friends, especially around my mother's table. She was always ready to set another place for the social strays in our midst. Who would we invite, if time were not such a limiting factor? </span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">Our daughter cut a stack of 3"x 3" cards from watercolor paper and creased them for folding, and brought along the colored pens and pencils. While dinner was cooking, we gathered the gathered around the table and explained the idea. </span></i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">To be honest, it got off to a slow start - people seemed hesitant for fear of doing it 'wrong.' We are making it up as we go! How can it be wrong? That reluctance was soon overcome and pens were flying!</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Something that surprised me was that I still wrestled with those folks that I should invite, but didn't necessarily want to. That happens, you know. </i><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Time threw a wrench in it as well. Among the dead was a gentleman that we had the pleasure to know for a number of years, as well as his first partner and his second partner (all dead now). I invited all three. I figure it was up to them to sort that out!! I would have done the same in life, I guess. </i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">The value of the exercise was in the doing, and in the conversations over the crayons. Next year we will start with blank cards again. </span></i><br />
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ancestors. I always try to remember that I am because they were. They live on in my bloodstream. Wherever I walk, they walk beside me. Even when I am alone, I am never on my own. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-60214892626577887832016-11-15T12:51:00.000-08:002016-12-18T15:04:20.886-08:00The Man Who Cried (for) Wolves<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One morning earlier this year I received a phone call from a woman named Alisa. Less than two minutes in to the conversation I knew this was the person associated with the Abundance Community in Pittsboro. She and her husband had managed to get Stephen Jenkinson to come down for a public speaking event. I remember nearly passing out in the bakery when I espied the poster for this event, thinking <b>THE</b> Stephen Jenkinson??? In a little church in <b>PITTSBORO</b>??? As I had just finished reading Jenkinson's "Die Wise," I was eager to hear him in person. When I had called to inquire about attending this event and just happened to mention that I was a home funeral guide, Hannah from their office told me about a woman who may be interested in what I did because her husband was dealing with ALS. So when Alisa called and began telling me a little about her situation I realized this was precisely who Hannah had told me about. Alisa said that they would be in need of a death midwife at some point over the next few months. She was beginning to feel the <i>sturm und drang </i>of her beloved's diagnosis with the dreaded ALS. Would I come out to meet her and Chris and paint a picture of what a home funeral would look like? I called Jenny, sweet friend and mentor, and within the next couple of weeks we drove out to their farmhouse to meet them both. It was sort of an instant girl crush for me. Alisa was a brilliant, creative force. In fact, as part of the staff of Abundance NC, "Creative Force" is her title! What couldn't this woman do I was thinking while I observed all the animals on the farm, her gardens, her rescue animals, her handmade soaps, her felted wool booties, her book collection, her home schooled children! Well, there was the fact that she couldn't take care of Chris by herself as she faced the future of his steady, certain decline and eventual death. We talked openly with Chris and Alisa. Chris used an iPad-like device to talk since it took so much effort to speak. At one point, one of their Boston terriers jumped up on the sofa beside me. Chris held up the screen for me to see with a big wide grin on his face: "Be careful....he's gassy!?" I couldn't stop laughing! God, it is so good to have humor when talking about death and dying! Jenny and I asked a round of questions about their expectations of and plans for home funeral guides. I know I left with a sinking heart to see this beautiful family now facing the future without their husband and father, a man who had dedicated himself to the restoration of the red wolf in eastern North Carolina. This meant years and years of crawling through huge agricultural fields which had been sprayed with pesticides, something which Alisa was convinced had poisoned Chris and led to his ALS diagnosis. BIG AG...I was totally sympathetic. Wondering if Chris would like us, I didn't worry for very long. As we left he flashed the biggest, brightest smile and told us we were welcome any time. On a subsequent visit, we walked around the woods while Chris followed in his high falutin' motorized wheelchair. We observed Chris and Alisa's neighbors and friends digging the grave for their best friends' son who had just died from heroin. Death lurked here, we all felt that. At one point Jenny managed to ask Chris which spot he liked for his own grave. He pointed between two pines, then his head slumped while tears fell from his eyes. Six weeks later, on June 4, I got the call from Alisa at 4:00 in the morning that Chris had died. I scrambled to get dressed, grab my essential oils and "Home Funeral Ceremonies" book, and started dialing Jenny so she could meet me. Ring. Ring. Ring. No answer. Ring. Ring. Ring. (we learned later that Jenny's ringtone is so delicate she never heard her phone! she made sure to change it the next day...to a much louder ringtone! we are still laughing about this!) Forty minutes later as I approached the farmhouse I knew I was going to have to fly solo for this home funeral. Alisa met me in the driveway so we would not wake the children. We hugged each other so tightly. And then she told me about her Nana's cat....how at precisely the moment of Chris' death the music from this old ceramic cat had started playing, a sure sign that Nana was waiting for Chris on the other side of the veil. Alisa, her sister, her father and stepmother, and Chris' best friend all washed and anointed his body while I read from the book and guided them in their delicate ministrations. Until you witness and take part in a home funeral, no amount of my attempts at describing this event can do it justice. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">RIP, Chris Lucash! You continue to inspire me every day.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Watch the trailer for the documentary on Chris' life here. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/152450459" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Staring Down Fate</span></a><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-6599583958145720362016-04-08T07:53:00.000-07:002016-04-24T20:16:20.016-07:00The Jenny and Sara Road Show!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Triangle Land Conservancy (TLC) hosted their "Wild Ideas for Getting Outside" Expo on March 9. Jenny and I were invited to have a table at this event. Over 200 guests from all over the Research Triangle showed up to learn about innovative ideas for safeguarding clean water, protecting natural habitats, supporting local farms and food, and connecting people with nature. I would be hard pressed to think of a more beautiful way to connect with nature than to "go green" at death! I have been in conversation with TLC for almost two years now, holding out hope that at some point a beautiful parcel of land will appear which can be used for just this purpose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There was the usual full spectrum of reactions when people approached our table: the "I see that, but it says DEATH on one of the books, so I'll just keep walking" or the inquisitive "what does that mean, 'green burial?'" to the shocked "is that LEGAL?" And I swear, if one more person had come up to us and said, "Have you heard that you can get buried and become a TREE??" I was going to scream! Whether it's the burial pod, or the mushroom suit, or a coral reef ball, they remind me of PET ROCKS. What the heck is wrong with just going naturally...in a simple shroud or a plain pine box??? Mother Nature will take care of the rest! </span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-36747309070681225962016-03-29T17:06:00.000-07:002016-03-29T17:06:01.619-07:00RETURN OF THE BODY SNATCHERS??<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Whew! Who could imagine that North Carolina would be such a hotbed of activity where consumer funeral rights are concerned??!! While I can't say my phone has been ringing off the hook, I have had a fair share of phone calls related to these issues. Two came within a week of each other, prompting me to contact both the National Home Funeral Alliance (NHFA) AND Funeral Consumers Alliance (FCA) headquarters. Both concerned a daughter or son's rights to their mother's bodies at death. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">While one mother is alive and in an assisted living facility, the daughter was told that upon her mother's death, she would be required to use the services of a local funeral home for transport of the dead body. In fact, the daughter has since informed said assisted living facility that they are dead wrong (pun intended), and that she will transport her dead mother herself to a funeral home located elsewhere within the state for final disposition. That's right, folks. There is no state law that prevents you from gaining next-of-kin custody and control of your dead loved one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Case #2 involved a major hospital which refused to release the son's mother to him because she had undergone an autopsy. HUH? Despite repeated encouragement from me that a)his mother's dead body had no doubt been "closed up" post-autopsy and posed no threat to anyone and that b)the several states he would travel through to get his mother home to her final resting place had no embalming requirements, the hospital kept citing a "policy" which forbid them to release his mother to him. During his second attempt to reason with the hospital administration, not only did they never produce this policy, but they ended up calling the police on this grieving man! In the end, he was forced to call a mortuary service to retrieve his mother, have her embalmed (!), and then pay for her flight to the state where she would ultimately be laid to rest. This was a flagrant injustice, changing the son's ability to transport his mother without embalming and also delaying burial plans. Again, both the NHFA and FCA national headquarters strategized on how to compel the hospital to change their practices and stop denying families the right to custody of their dead. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Both of these incidents led to the creation of the following document, <a href="http://homefuneralalliance.org/the-law/nhfa-fca-legal-obstacles/what-to-do-when-rights-are-challenged/" target="_blank">"What to Do When Families' Home Funeral Rights Are Challenged." </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So beware any attempt by hospital or assisted living facility officials to tell you that you cannot take your loved one when they die. These folks may tell you that it's their POLICY, or try to insist it's against the law, but they will not be able to provide a legal statute number. No policy trumps a family's right to take charge of their loved ones at death.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-53525365355682766592016-03-25T19:06:00.001-07:002016-03-25T20:10:34.456-07:00The 11th Commandment<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am so inspired by Anne Weston, a recent acquaintance, who is hell-bent on establishing a green cemetery in this part of the state! A few weeks ago she had reached out to Jenny, my dear friend and home funeral guide mentor, to see if they could meet for lunch to discuss said green cemetery. Jenny then phoned me to ask if I could join them. Guess you figured out the answer to THAT question.... We had a very lively discussion for two hours, Anne all the while flipping through her 3-ring notebook where every sub-topic imaginable having to do with green burial was neatly arranged. She has an accountant, a realtor, and an attorney in her back pocket. We hear you, Anne, and we have your back! Let's get 'er done! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I finally had to ask what the inscription tattooed on her arm meant. See, back in high school, much to my parents' and principal's chagrin, I opted to take Home Economics rather than Latin. I still can't sew, although I can cook without following a recipe. But I need help with this classical language. "It means 'do not be afraid,'" Anne told me. "And this is something I strive to remember and practice because I'm an introvert. Doing this work takes courage. For me, it's like the 11th Commandment because I am trying to lead others to live more fearlessly regarding their death." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Amen, Sister. NOLI TIMERE. DO NOT BE AFRAID. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-14379387810985468762016-02-15T11:11:00.000-08:002016-02-15T11:12:44.839-08:00Digging in THE DIRT with the Triangle Land Conservancy!<br />
<header class="postHeader" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><br /><i><span style="color: red;">Thanks to Hannah Shapiro, Intern with the Triangle Land Conservancy (TLC), for this interview! This is from the TLC Blog, THE DIRT. </span></i></span></header><header class="postHeader" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 1em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><i> </i></span><h1 class="title" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1b1b1c; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 0.4em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">
A Conversation about Green Burials with Sara Williams</span></h1>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span class="author meta" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><a href="https://www.triangleland.org/author/hannah-shapiroduke-edu" rel="author" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #20358c; font-weight: 700; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="Posts by Hannah Shapiro">Hannah Shapiro</a> </span> <span class="date meta" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: middle;">February 13, 2016</span></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.75;">A few days ago, I had the opportunity to speak with Sara Williams, an advocate for green burials. I was a bit nervous to talk with her because death isn’t something we talk about. It’s one of the very few guaranteed aspects of life, yet the subject is too often avoided. Sara’s goal is to change that trend, to get people to talk about death and to figure out the best and most environmentally friendly plans for when we die.</span></span></ul>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">In high school, Sara was told that she was obsessed with death by a classmate, and she’s embraced that idea since, “but not in a macabre way.” She recalled her first experience with death; as a child, she attended a funeral for one of her school friends and thought, “that’s not him.” As Sara sees it, we’ve lost the ability to take care of the people we love the most in our conventional ways of dealing with death.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">“There’s something wrong with the way we bury people, we’ve sold our souls to the funeral industry.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">Sara reminded me of the nearly unbelievable cost that it takes to have a funeral, an enormous stress to families that are going through the death of a loved one. She affirms that the traditional way of dealing with death in our country is both a social justice problem and an environmental problem.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">Sara believes that individuals should have a choice about what happens to their bodies after they die, whether it’s a traditional burial, cremation, or green burial. And her goal is to educate people about the impacts that their decision may have on the environment.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">In a conventional burial, the embalming process releases numerous chemicals, including formaldehyde, into the environment. In this process, hardwood, steel, and concrete vaults are also buried in the ground. Because of this, Sara said many people decide, “I’ll just be cremated,” without really thinking about it and understanding what that means for the environment. Along with the immense amount of mercury and other toxins that our bodies accumulate throughout our lives, emissions from the fossil fuels used in cremation each year in the United States could drive a car to the moon and back 84 times.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">Green burials</strong> are a way to avoid burying toxic chemicals in the ground and releasing immense amounts of fossil fuels and toxins into the atmosphere. In this process, the body is placed in a shroud or pine box and buried naturally, without the chemicals, vaults, concrete liners, and expensive hardwood or metal caskets.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">In 2014, Sara became a board director with the<a href="http://homefuneralalliance.org/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #20358c; font-weight: 700; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"> National Home Funeral Alliance</a> after attending a conference in Raleigh. She also started her local <strong style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="http://deathcafe.com/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #20358c; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Death Café</a></strong>, which she says isn’t a support group, but rather a place where individuals come together to have conversations about death and dying.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">Now, Sara works with families that want home funerals to help them, “reclaim the sacred tradition of caring for our own.” She told me about the first time she helped somebody take care of the one that they loved, to fulfill a mother’s wish to be buried naturally, in a pine box in the Shenandoah Valley. She remembers how tender and beneficial this process was for the grieving daughter, and how important it can be to embrace the work of caring for our dead instead of running away.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">Sara is looking forward to retiring this summer to spend more time with her young granddaughter, and she is eager to continue advocating for green burials. There are only three cemeteries in the state that offer green burial sites (all hybrid). The<a href="https://www.facebook.com/carolinamemorialsanctuary/timeline" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #20358c; font-weight: 700; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"> first conservation burial ground</a> opens this spring in Mills River, near Asheville. She says people in the area often ask about it and her hope is to help find a space nearby for those who want a green burial.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">In looking for options in the Triangle region, Sara has approached TLC as a potential partner. TLC is always open to creative conservation strategies and thus, staff and board members are taking time to learn more about green burials and how they may fit into TLC’s conservation mission.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">In emails following our conversation, Sara shared something that her good friend, Bill Gupton, likes to say.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">“Our Western culture desperately declares, at every possible opportunity, that human beings are somehow separate from, somehow elevated above, the natural world. Yet deep inside, all of us know that is simply not true. And modern science confirms what native people have told us – that we are inextricably woven into the fabric of all existence. You come from stardust. You, and I, are connected. Wouldn’t it be incredible to be able to bury your loved ones – to be buried, yourself – in a truly traditional human way? To return to the earth, to become part of the natural cycle once again.”</span></div>
</article>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-32957708974818434792015-11-27T14:06:00.001-08:002015-11-28T08:20:16.605-08:00Bone(s) of Contention!!<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I recently read a blog post where the author opined that all the death and dying conferences she was attending were being held purposely to coincide with Halloween! Oh my, I thought. This woman actually saw me at the <a href="http://homefuneralalliance.org/events/nhfa-conference-2015/">National Home Funeral Alliance conference</a> in Los Gatos, California in early October...and she thinks I'm part of this "Halloween factor!" As someone who was indeed decked out daily in an array of skirts, blouses, leggings, scarves and such sporting colorful skulls, it didn't have a thing to do with Halloween! Au contraire. My favorite day of the year is November 1st when we can finally put all of this Halloween nonsense behind us! Better yet, November 1st is All Saints Day when many folk around the world pause to remember their beloved deceased and may, like me, host a Day of the Dead party for this very reason. My wearing skulls signifies that I am comfortable with death, and it never fails to engage people in a conversation about same. Oh, I love the skulls, “dem bones,” our enduring sticks. And the thought of Halloween and all its concomitant stupidities never crosses my mind when I go to grab a skull-adorned piece of clothing from my closet! And I grab and wear my skull clothing twelve months a year!!!! Heck, every day is a good day to wear skeleton/death positive clothing and jewelry because when you think about it, in the traditions it is derived from (Latin, African, and others) it represents a close connection with one’s Ancestors, and a sense of unity with death. <br />In the art world, the skull is a <i>memento mori,</i> a reminder that in life we are in death. We should bone up on this fact, living as well as we can, perfecting our moral character, working our fingers to the bone for the common good. (I'm on a roll here....) <br />And, I actually think what I'm channeling below is one "bad to the bone" obit picture!! I mean, I just feel that</span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">in my bones....</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #5f6062;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #5f6062;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-40905866931896857382015-08-05T17:23:00.003-07:002015-11-20T18:29:05.311-08:00KEEP CALM AND FILL OUT THE NEXT FORM!<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I recently presented a program at my local hospice about home funerals and green burial. The folks in attendance were extremely attentive and shared fascinating stories of their own. As you can imagine, when you are working with death and dying on a daily basis, you quickly build a repertoire of stories. No one decried anything I said; rather, they were eager to keep the conversation going about all aspects of both home funerals and green burial. I was on a roll! We covered the difference between law and policy, health precautions to take when keeping a deceased love one at home, the environmental impact of our conventional funeral practices, legal matters, and paperwork.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then a hand was raised. "Are these forms posted on your blog so we can see them?" Gulp. I quickly added, "Not currently, but I will be sure to get this done so that they will be available and you will be able to see what needs to be completed."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here are the forms you will need to complete:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~ Notification of Death</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~ Certificate of Death</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~ Burial Transit Permit (ONLY IF TAKING BODY ACROSS STATE LINES!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the state of <b>NORTH CAROLINA</b> (check your own state laws regarding this required paperwork!), you may act as your own funeral director. If you do this, <b>you must notify your county health department of the death within 24 hours and then arrange for a death certificate to be filed within five days with the registrar of the county where the death occurred. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It would be a good idea to talk in advance with your county staff to find out what steps you will need to take, whom to contact, and how. Tamma Hill is the Field Services Manager for North Carolina Vital Records and will be happy to reassure any county workers that might be hesitant to work with you. You can reach her directly at 919-792-5832 or tamma.hill@dhhs.nc.gov.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Be sure to talk to the physician who is taking care of your loved one, and let them know of your plans to act as the funeral director and to claim custody of your loved one's remains until final disposition. It helps if you have power of attorney for health decisions since that grants you clear authority to make decisions regarding the care of the remains.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>You and your family or friends may legally transport the body. </b>If you remain within the state of North Carolina, you do not need a burial transit permit unless 1) the body is under the care of the county medical examiner (this could happen if death was suspicious or unexpected) or 2) you plan to carry the body across state lines. You can easily fit a pine coffin or cardboard body container (or just have the body wrapped in a shroud or favorite family quilt!) in the bed of a pickup truck or in a minivan with the rear seats removed. Here is the burial transit permit for North Carolina:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I love giving presentations of this sort and am looking forward to providing more education on this subject in the future!</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-73660898297811052622015-07-22T18:40:00.000-07:002015-07-22T18:47:13.472-07:00Molte Grazie, Guglielmo Marconi!!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I suppose we have come a long way since Marconi's first public radio transmission in 1896! And in our fast-paced world of lightning-quick communications with Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and email, it is hard to believe that there are still lots of folks who listen to talk shows on the radio. On AM stations. In counties where there are lots of small towns and cities. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As my friend and home funeral guide Merilynne Rush says, sometimes it feels like she's swimming upstream in her efforts to help people discuss death and face their mortality, which often includes speaking about home funeral and green burial. I feel you, Merilynne. But I keep reaching out and doing what I can to get people thinking about these issues. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On June 26, I was the featured guest on WBAG's "Meeting Place" with host Olin Campbell. The show went swimmingly well to keep that metaphor going, and I didn't feel like I was fighting the current! People were genuinely interested and called in with great questions about home funeral and green burial. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's the interview in its entirety. I hope you will enjoy it! </span><br />
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<a href="http://wp.me/P6bdje-39" target="_blank">Sara's radio interview</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-58437797384036793922015-04-24T07:11:00.002-07:002016-05-20T19:30:45.854-07:00My First Home Funeral<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
am grateful to Elizabeth for giving me permission to share this story. It is a powerful teaching gift as we remember
how important home funerals and their healing rituals are—for both the living
and the dead. All names have been
changed by request. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It seems that for the past two years, I have repeatedly
told all my friends within the home funeral movement, “I’m just waiting for
somebody to die!” This was because I had
done the requisite training for after-death care, including a year’s worth of
online coursework, as well as workshops at several national conferences and
within my local Crossings Care group. I
was primed and ready to take care of someone’s dearly departed. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I cannot recall the exact moment I learned about the
National Home Funeral Alliance (NHFA), but in 2013 when they had their national
conference in Raleigh (35 miles from home!!) I was so ready to be there. I immersed myself in all things NHFA. It paid off.
Within a year, I was asked to be on their Board of Directors. Everything they stand for resonates deeply
within me….everything they do is the way we used to do things….everything old
is new again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Penny was a gentle spirit who I had met many years ago
when our daughters Heba and Elizabeth were in middle school together. She was a public health nurse and her caring
and loving nature was coupled with a free and easy style which made young girls
like my daughter idolize her. It was no
secret that when some girls ran away from home, they wanted to take shelter
with Penny. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sadly, eighteen years later—when our daughters were now
mothers in their early 30’s—her third recurrence of breast cancer had finally
gotten the best of her. She came back to
her childhood home to spend her last days.
This would be the easy choice for her only daughter, Elizabeth, who
lived close by, and for her older sister, Judy, who still lived in the
home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the afternoon of February 24, my daughter Heba was trying
desperately to reach me to ask for my advice.
Elizabeth was in Raleigh with her dying mother Penny whose final wish was
to be buried in a pine box in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Heba wanted to know if I could help Elizabeth
with all the questions she had about cemeteries and coffins. Elizabeth was an amazing woman who did her
research and her homework—and it would pay off later. During her research, she found that my name,
Sara Williams, kept popping up. When she
called me, she recognized my voice from long ago and hung up, in disbelief and
shock, immediately phoned Heba, and asked her, “Is that YOUR MOTHER who is
doing home funerals?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After Heba confirmed that it was indeed her mother who
was “the green reaper,” Elizabeth and I talked at length about what would be
involved. I helped her believe she could
<u>absolutely do this herself</u> and that although I was trained to do this as
a Home Funeral Guide, I had never done one myself. Her reply was, “Well, it looks like you’re
going to be doing your first home funeral soon.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At last, I thought to myself. Here is the dead person I will be able to
love and care for, and share this love and care with her daughter and the rest
of her family. Thank you, Penny, for coming back into my life
after all these years, to help me learn from you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You know, mothers would be lying if they said they
didn’t have favorites among their children’s friends. Elizabeth was always
impressive. Elizabeth sparkled, both in her physical attributes, and her
athletic prowess, but also as a brilliant young woman who was a good student,
polite, and whose aura was golden. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I coached her through the necessary and required
paperwork. She had already ordered the
pine coffin from an artisan who is also my friend, Don Byrne of Piedmont Pine
Coffins. She had located the perfect
green cemetery in Penn Laird, VA—Duck Run.
This young woman was on it! Plus, when she told Heba how helpful I had
been, my daughter said, “Mom, I will never make fun of you again for your
‘dead’ work.” That was no small
accomplishment, believe me. My daughter,
like so many people who don’t understand yet, had basically eschewed all this
home funeral business. Now, suddenly, I
seemed legitimate! (Thank you again,
Penny!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I had been trained.
I was ready, willing and able.
And I knew it would be so much better if I had support. So I contacted my friend and experienced home
funeral guide, Jenny Bingham, to ask her to please work in tandem with me
during this first home funeral. She
agreed to do so with love and happiness that I would finally get to have this experience. I was
delighted to work with Jenny. She had
really been my mentor this past year, and we had been meeting regularly for
lunch and discussing our work within the home funeral and green burial
movements. She was so “Zen” in contrast
to my hyper, type-A personality. I loved
being in her presence. (Thank you,
Jenny!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Elizabeth called late Friday night, February 27, to let
me know her mother had died. I had told Elizabeth
earlier in the day that Jenny and I were willing to come over that night if she
died before 9:00 PM. Due to really icy
roads and cold, however, we were trying to avoid that. Elizabeth called right before 11:00 PM and I
assured her that her mom would be fine until the morning if she cracked the
window. She asked me what to do with one
eye that would not shut, and her mouth which would not close. I suggested she put something on her eyelid for
some weight—she had a sleeping mask which I said should be perfect—and told her
how to tie a scarf around her mother’s head after first placing a small rolled
towel under her chin. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I picked up Jenny the next morning at 8:00 AM—she had
her kit with her. In it were things I didn’t
have, like washcloths, towels, gauze, sheets. (I did manage to pack some of my essential
oils like lavender and eucalyptus, and one lesson learned is that creating my
own home funeral kit is now a priority).
Being able to grab my kit and go will give me time to think about other
more important things, show I am prepared, and lend even more credibility to my
work as a home funeral guide. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Jenny and I stopped on the way at Harris-Teeter grocery
store to buy dry ice. The checkout clerk
rang up 26 CENTS, but I was quick to point out that it should be more like 26
DOLLARS! I was right once the supervisor
rechecked the receipt! It is so good to
be able to laugh during all this!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then on to Raleigh to meet with Elizabeth, her dead
mother, and whomever else might be there.
Jenny asked how I was feeling. I thought about walking together up to a
house I had never seen before, into a brand new situation. My friend and experienced home funeral guide
asked me if I was nervous, and then talked to me about what to expect when we
saw a dead body—the dead body of a woman I had known years before. I was a bit nervous, true, but I had such a
strong feeling that everything I needed in that moment would manifest itself,
and that with Jenny by my side, all would be well. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Elizabeth came out to meet us, sweet as ever—a young
woman so full of wisdom for her years.
She escorted me and Jenny in after an apology to please overlook the
cluttered house. Penny was in her
childhood home where her sister, Judy, now lived. Her hospital bed, provided by hospice, stood
in the center of the dining room where she had been able to watch the sunrise,
the roses out the window, and the winter birds flitting past. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Oh, to see Penny, tiny and pale in the high hospital
bed, the morning sun on her face. After all these years to see her from her
vibrant state to this final one of repose.
I remembered her sweet smile, how she loved to dance, and her work with
our school’s PTA. I always thought how
nice it must be to be so tall and carry yourself so well! (And that’s from a tall woman!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Elizabeth told us that when her mom died, “It was the
worst relief I ever felt.” She explained
how long it had taken hospice to get her pain under control, and how her mother
finally took her last breath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Penny’s daughter was proud to show me the pine coffin
that she had ordered from Don and it was beautiful!! The three of us took some time to practice
getting it through the doorway…this is really important. (We would later learn and see firsthand that
Penny, who was really tall, looked a bit cramped when we first placed her in
the coffin. But we realized with a
little gentle maneuvering we could adjust her to where she looked totally
comfortable). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We wondered where Judy, Penny’s sister, was. “In her bedroom, a bit spooked I think,” Elizabeth
told us. Judy had not come out since
Jenny and I arrived. When Nancy, a
cousin, arrived to be with Judy, she too absconded to the back bedroom after
looking hastily at Penny, dead on her hospital bed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This is the last thing home funeral guides want to
happen. We are here to educate the
family and put them at ease with their dearly departed. Soon after, Olivia, a hospice nursing
assistant arrived. She seemed a little
addled at our presence, and soon told Jenny, “You’ll need to hurry with your
preparations before <i>rigor mortis</i> sets
in.” Jenny told her, “We don’t rush
anything in this work.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Elizabeth told Olivia that Jenny and I really wanted Judy
and Nancy present to help with bathing and anointing and dressing Penny. Olivia simply said, “You need to
COMMUNICATE! Did you invite them?” Another lesson learned! Be sure you communicate to all present and
make them believe that they are critically important within this home funeral
work! She went in to them herself before
she left to return to work, and within 15 minutes, Judy and Nancy
appeared! (Thank you, Olivia!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We were so happy to see them, and immediately began
speaking about how they could help us do all the washing and anointing. This was the strongest and most positive vibe
we had that day…here was a group of women doing what they have always done,
through all of time, caring for their dead.
They could have remained in their room, but they didn’t. You NEED five or six people to do this work so
it was a very happy moment to witness Judy and Nancy, in concert with me, Jenny
and Elizabeth, as an integral part of this holy endeavor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Before we began, to focus us and get us present in this
sacred moment in time, I read a poem while we were gathered at Penny’s
bedside. As we stood around the hospital
bed in the dining room of Penny’s childhood home, I read it aloud.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Deep wet moss and cool blue
shadows<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Beneath a bending fir,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And the purple solitude of
mountains,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When only the dark owls stir—<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Oh, there will come a day, a
twilight,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I shall sink to rest<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In deep wet moss and cool blue
shadows<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Upon a mountain’s breast,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And yield a body torn with
passions,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And bruised with earthly scars,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To the cool oblivion of evening,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<i><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Of solitude and stars.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Deep
Wet Moss” by Lew Sarett<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So now to work…and work they did. I will never forget older sister Judy eagerly
volunteering to find us bowls to hold the hot water, extra towels and cloths,
and her own VERY SPECIAL oil which evoked the scent of pine forests which she
and Penny had always loved so much! She
was so proud to share this oil, and to use it generously as Jenny and I coached
her in gently washing Penny. Judy took
her time combing and brushing her sister’s hair—lovingly speaking to her about
memories they had shared growing up with each stroke of the brush. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now came the time to dress Penny. Often at home funerals, clothes will need to
be cut up the back in order to more easily get them on the body. Knowing how proud Elizabeth was of her
recent purchase of a J. Jill linen suit
for her mother, and even though we were having a little bit of difficulty
getting her arms through the linen tank top, I declared straight up: “THIS IS J. JILL AND WE ARE NOT CUTTING IT!!” Everyone had a good chuckle, and we proceeded
to get the top on as well as the jacket and pants! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We prepared the pine coffin with the lovely scented
shavings Don had provided (I remember Elizabeth picking some up in her hands,
sniffing them, and then putting them under my nose and saying, “Isn’t the scent
divine?”), laying in an old bedsheet (Italian cotton! my contribution!) and covering
Penny with her favorite little comforter, a gift from one of Elizabeth’s best
friends. (For the abundant gifts, we
thank you!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It’s almost like magic the way you learn to roll and
lay out sheets under a dead body, and how that process makes the body easy to
turn and then lift. Jenny and I taught
these maneuvers to Elizabeth, Judy and Nancy, gently rolling Penny on her side
and spreading out the sheet lengthwise with half of it folded in accordion
pleats. Then we gently rolled Penny onto
her other side and pulled the pleated sheet out, extending it, to complete
placing the sheet underneath the body. Each of us rolled up the sheet in our
hands until the sheet was tight around Penny, with Jenny supporting Penny’s
head. Jenny remained at her head while I
was at Penny’s feet; Elizabeth, Judy, and Nancy were lined up
along the body and on the count of three we lifted Penny down into the coffin on the
floor. We knew to always keep the head higher than the rest of the body to
prevent discharge of fluids. Now it was
just a matter of lifting the coffin back up on the bed where Penny would remain
during her vigil until Monday morning. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We covered the hospital bed with a white matelassé
bedspread--and when we placed the coffin back up on the bed, it was really
lovely. Penny loved a lint brush and
kept an extensive collection with her even during her last days! There was a lot of laughter as we all used
lint brushes to remove the cat hair from the bedspread! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I decided then and there my gift to Elizabeth for her
gift to me of this experience would be a beautiful print called “Our Journey” by
artist Gaia Orion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="style10" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She has painted the
stages of our life, from infancy to old age, and finally going back to the
earth. Gaia states, “Just like winter is
telling us to rest and look inward every year. When one lives in tune with
nature life is a cycle following the seasons.
Where does it really start? When does it end? When the caterpillar ‘dies,’
it has no idea that it is initiating the birth of a beautiful butterfly.”<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gaiaorion.com/wp-content/uploads/Our-Journey-Gaia-Orion-Framed-Canvas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://gaiaorion.com/wp-content/uploads/Our-Journey-Gaia-Orion-Framed-Canvas.jpg" height="395" style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 115%;" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="style10" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I hope this will become
my signature gift to everyone for whom I have the </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">great gift of working
together during a home funeral. Being
able to do this, to be there and serve as a guide for this family, was all that
I had hoped it would be. One of the benefits of caring for these
loved ones after death is experiencing both the finality of death and the
continuity of life. Fear of death is usually fear of the unknown. When we
experience something firsthand, and when we are allowed to be at home with it,
then there is little that we shy away from. By participating in the end of life
of a loved one, by helping with arrangements and bringing sanctity to the days
after death, there is an almost universal experience that life and death are
embraced without fear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="style10" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because we had already
practiced getting the coffin through the doors, and because Elizabeth had
already measured and calculated how the coffin would be placed in their car for
transport to Virginia, this last remaining task was in her hands. Now she was in charge; she had her husband
and brother to help now, and Jenny’s and my work was done. I had advised Elizabeth on all the required
paperwork and she had dutifully gotten all the documents as well as the doctor’s
signature on the <i>Death Certificate</i>
and <i>Notification of Death</i> forms. She and her husband drove Penny in her J.
Jill suit in her custom pine coffin from Raleigh in the back of their Subaru to
Duck Run on Monday, three days later, without a hitch. They had their <i>Burial Transit Permit</i> in the car with the <i>Death Certificate</i>, and were ready to present them at any point in
the 250 mile journey. But they didn’t
need to. Now Penny is at her “soul’s
rest” in the beautiful, peaceful landscape of the Shenandoah Valley.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="style10" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I now felt “legitimate”
and could not wait to get my “Beyond Hospice” Home Funeral Guide certificate shrunk
and laminated! I carry it in my wallet
at all times like a badge of honor. Right
beside my new business cards which Heba designed and presented to me! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="style10" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At Penny’s memorial
service on Tuesday, four days after her death, it was so comforting to see all
the family again. The women who loved
her and hid in the bedroom, sister Judy and cousin Nancy, were so grateful for
their experience and thanked me profusely.
“We think it’s amazing,” Nancy said.
“<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">It
occurred to us that if more Americans spent more time with their dead—at least
until the next morning—they would come away with a new respect for life, and
possibly a larger view of the world.”</span> <span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span>Later, in
the receiving line, Elizabeth’s husband Bob said to me, “Sara, you changed our
family’s lives.” And Penny and her
family changed mine. Bob’s words will be
with me always, reminding me that this work we do is important, healing, and
transformative for all involved. (Thanks
to everyone!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My first home funeral
totally captured and reinforced the circle of life. Two years ago, I could only read about and
study how home funerals promote healing and closure</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">; how
they provide a comfortable place to discuss life and death; how they allow us to
express our grief and loss. Now I knew
all this to be true because I had lived it!
Quite simply, home funerals
return death care to the traditional and natural. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-61818437231128696032015-03-17T17:13:00.002-07:002015-03-17T17:13:58.531-07:00REMAINS TO BE SEEN...or, Pat's Ponderings Get Posted!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday in late autumn, when I
heard the doorbell ring. On the porch
stood a wild-eyed woman, a casual acquaintance, who was shouting
something. Over the din of two barking
dogs, I could just make out, “I-want-you-to-make-me-a-burial-shroud!” Should I slam the door and call 911, sic the
dogs on her, or grab a bottle of Chardonnay and invite her in? I went with the wine option, and so began a
great adventure with Sara Williams, Certified Home Funeral Guide and Green Burial
advocate. A couple of glasses later, I
was persuaded, converted, intrigued, and totally on board. Here’s how it went:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A shroud, I thought, innocently, should be simpler to create
than a garment. There would be no need
for pesky sleeves, collars, and the like.
However, there were some<i>....
unique</i> design requirements. Besides
being simple and dignified, it must:</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--> ~ Cover a
variety of body types</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--> ~ Be easily
and neatly secured in place</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--> ~ Be easily
carried by the pallbearers</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]--> ~ Be biodegradable,
and of organic fabric</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was used to creating all sorts of garments using my
dressmaker’s mannequin, but realized that I now needed something different – a
full body model. At the local Goodwill,
I was able to recruit two: Mabel and
Deceased Barbie (see earlier posts). Finding a supplier of
organic cotton fabric willing to sell me less than 100 yards came next. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">An internet search turned up three basic types of shroud:
bed sheet, sack, and burrito. All left
a lot to be desired, design-wise. My two
models were infinitely patient while I
worked out and refined the details of an ideal shroud. The final design is expandable, without
being bulky at the head and feet, and
the ties and carrying handles are elegantly integrated. If needed, a back board
may be easily added. Sara was
thrilled! Mabel and Deceased Barbie had
no comment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The body drape provides an ideal place for custom
decoration. Sara, who sees life as a
journey, requested a personalized map and a pocket for her fresh lavender and rosemary. The sheer silk veil was my
idea, in part because I can’t sleep unless my face is covered. More importantly, it allows the vigilers
(vigilantes?) to have their loved one be emphatically present and unveiled, or
veiled and at a slight symbolic remove.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am proud to be part of the emerging movement to simplify
and personalize burial. The name of my
business? REMAINS TO BE SEEN! (Sara snorted and choked on her Chardonnay.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Pat's business card</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-22731904535277042472015-03-06T18:46:00.000-08:002015-03-12T07:28:53.790-07:00Still Talking About Death...Hold the Sugar!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am preparing to host our EIGHTH Death Café on March 25! We have met monthly since our first Death Café
in July, 2014. The group continues to
grow and is a diverse bunch of folks, especially on the age spectrum. We have 20-somethings and 80-somethings! We are composed of college students, a clinical
psychologist, a family practice physician, a baker, a Veteran, an artist, an
occupational therapist, hospice volunteers, cancer survivors, a mortician-in-training,
a diesel mechanic! We all love to talk
about death and there is never a lull in our conversations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rebecca, our baker, whipped up some fine skeleton cakes one
evening for our enjoyment (see picture).
People just get in to this death stuff!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We read poetry. We
discuss articles on death and dying. And
once I dared to show the movie <a href="http://www.awillforthewoods.com/" target="_blank">“A Will for the Woods”</a> because people were so
interested in green burial. I soon learned
from <a href="http://deathcafe.com/profile/2/" target="_blank">Jon Underwood </a>that was <b><i>verboten </i></b>where Death Cafes are
concerned. You cannot have an agenda or
sell a product or even have a theme. Or
show movies. So we decided that we would
heretofore refer to <b>that </b>particular
meeting as a “Death Cafeteria!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I read that at the Atlanta Death Café, they always end their
meeting by singing “Happy Trails” (the song made famous by Roy Rogers and Dale
Evans). So I printed off several copies and
our group does the same at the conclusion of our meetings. You would be surprised how many people love
to sing (even those who can’t carry a tune!!?). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believe that the reason Death Cafes, like this one I facilitate each month in Mebane, are growing so quickly around the world is because a whole lot of people are ready to talk about death, dying and end of life issues. When we let go of our fear of death and bring it into our ordinary conversation---without the sugar coating---we can live with greater passion and joy. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-57170330508470517182015-03-04T06:19:00.000-08:002015-03-04T16:19:08.321-08:00Mount Rushmore Didn't Start on a Mountain!<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even though I can't identify the source for this quote, it makes sense. Every great artist, specifically SCULPTORS, use miniatures, models, maquettes to plan out their masterpieces! That's a LOT of "M" words!!!!!!!!!! Marvelous! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pat is no exception. When she began to think about how to create a shroud for me, she used her "Deceased Barbie" to get things going. In arriving at the design, she had many attendant engineering considerations. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The things that make the design so special are the boxed and pleated head and foot sections that cocoon the body, simply and securely, and the drape with veil, which can be personalized, and which lets you have that feeling of comforting and protecting and tucking them in for the night (especially if you order it in velvet!). Pat's stenciling talents are another gift...this expert can do anything to make your shroud truly and remarkably your own special work of art.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Follow Deceased Barbie, Designer Pat, and Not Yet Deceased Sara in their fascinating journey from the designing block to the uncorking of "dead reds" to celebrate!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"> Back view showing board pocket, ties, and carrying loops.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"> Time to enjoy "Skeleton" Malbec and "Hob Nob" Wicked Blend!</i></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-23567915707423369942014-11-10T18:41:00.000-08:002015-03-06T18:49:26.911-08:00I WAS SHORT-SHROUDED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wow....the time has gone by so quickly since my last post! Between Death Cafes, <a href="http://www.homefuneralalliance.org/" target="_blank">National Home Funeral Alliance</a> beeswax (I'm now on their Board of Directors!!), and our annual Day of the Dead party, it's almost Thanksgiving! Oh. And did I happen to mention a MOVE in there?? Whew!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pat, my artist friend, has been hard at work on my shroud. It is an incredible creation. She actually brought the shroud for me to "slip in to" at the party on November 1st, and much to her dismay...it was TOO SHORT!! You should have seen the onlookers gasp as they saw me have to twist and squirm, realizing that an alteration would be in order. Then we all had a few good belly laughs, including Pat, and she simply had me exit the "body bag" and packed it away so she could make the necessary adjustments. Please note the gusset and pleats, so clever, and exactly what the corpse ordered! Also, one observes that the compass point, upon closer scrutiny, reveals an N and an S for North and South. But look again to find an H and an E. Remember? Here and Elsewhere! (I will publish more detailed pictures from this shroud so that these unique features can be appreciated!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fast forward to today...Monday, November 10, and see the exquisite handiwork of this artist, and how she made a shroud so beautiful that one could truly say, "It's to DIE for!"</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-68964900251358738992014-07-02T18:27:00.002-07:002014-07-02T18:27:19.588-07:00Coffee and Cake to Die For!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I finally did it! I have decided to host Mebane's FIRST "Death Cafe!" Death Cafes are popping up all over the country, having started in Europe back in 2004. Finally, a taboo topic is gaining ground and people are finding it "normal" to sit around and discuss all aspects of death and dying.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I would LOVE to change how we as a society do death. I will die a happier person knowing I contributed in some small way to this change. Rather than thinking and feeling morbidly, "Oh God, one day I'm going to die," wouldn't it be grand to be able to say, with awe and wonder, "Oh God, one day I'm going to die!" Death Cafes are one way to start the conversation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When we are conscious of our own mortality, we live more fully. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Learn more about this incredible movement at <i>deathcafe.com.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll write more after our first get-together on July 23!</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 20.0pt;">YOU’RE INVITED TO MEBANE’S FIRST <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
forum for people to come together in a safe setting to discuss death, drink tea
& coffee, and eat delicious cake!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 22.0pt;">WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2014<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 22.0pt;">6:00pm – 8:00pm<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 22.0pt;">KARMA ON THIRD<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">200 N 3<sup>rd</sup> Street, downtown Mebane<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Please
come join us for an informal sharing of thoughts, questions, and concerns about
any aspect of grieving, dying and death.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Everyone
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<b><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%;">RSVP
to SARA at 919-623-0051 early!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">~Event is FREE~<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Maiandra GD","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">~Drinks and treats sold by Karma on Third~<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-72536800571425727012014-06-25T18:11:00.001-07:002015-03-05T11:10:51.614-08:00"It's Only Fitting..."<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today I actually spent time with Pat for my initial shroud fitting! She has selected wonderful organic materials (muslin for the main body of the shroud and an almost sheer jersey for the face covering). Pat will add a pocket, right on my heart, to hold lavender and rosemary (but mostly lavender because it's my favorite!!) We're imagining that the pocket will be made from tulle with a ribbon of some sort. She'll embellish the bodice with a map I have selected from the very book SHE told me about a couple of years ago...<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Atlas-Experience-Louise-Swaaji/dp/1582341001" target="_blank">"The Atlas of Experience."</a> I love maps...always have! This particular map is so unique and illustrates mortality in the most fascinating way. Pat captured a photo of me pored over the book, pondering the map. Was I thinking about how many miles I have left on this earthly journey? Or perhaps thinking about the deeper meaning of the points "Here" and "Elsewhere" labeled on the map? Hmmm...maybe just how blessed I am to be experiencing this whole freaking fabulous thing!!! </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-53498485939704942602014-04-11T17:55:00.002-07:002015-03-12T07:22:32.435-07:00"Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history..."<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The title of this post is a quote from Shakespeare's "As You Like It" (Act II, Scene 7) where he defines the seven ages of man. It also served as the title for one of my graduate school research papers at UNC in the year 1981. In the paper, I was making a comparative analysis of Islamic and Christian cemeteries. It earned me an "A" and the professor commented that it was "well researched, structured and synthesized." She also said it was "a pleasure to read." I have held on to the paper all these years because it was one of my favorite ones to research and write, and also because I included personal photographs of my paternal grandmother's grave following her funeral (photo below). There were also personal photographs taken in "God's Acre," the Moravian cemetery in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where many of my mother's relatives are buried. There's a bit of a difference between how Muslims and Moravians bury each other, trust me. Muslims bury "green," although no one used this terminology at the time I wrote my paper. (read entire paper at link below.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was always interested in death education. In fact, while I was an undergraduate at UNC, I took a course on "death and dying" taught by Ruel Tyson, renowned religious scholar. The class was huge and very popular, much like a course you may have heard about lately at Kean University in Union, New Jersey taught by Dr. Norma Bowe. The latter is currently the subject of a bestseller book called, <a href="http://erikahayasaki.com/" target="_blank">"The Death Class: A True Story about Life" by Erika Hayasaki</a>. But I digress....During one class, Dr. Tyson went over to shut a window in the auditorium, and it hit the sill with a very loud BAM! Tyson gazed out at his students, paused for a few seconds, and then said, "My. That sounded FINAL, didn't it?" The class erupted into hysterical laughter!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fast forward to April 1988 and I am once again in graduate school at UNC...taking an education course because I'm thinking I'd like to teach. I'm probably the oldest student in the class. Can you guess what I decided to do for my final project?? Of course! A little video on death education! Segments included trips to local cemeteries with my two children to read epitaphs, conversations with an oncology nurse and a philosophy professor, and a tour of the crematorium. This project garnered high marks as well. Hmm...maybe I should stick with this death education thing after all, especially since one purpose of this blog is to educate people about green burial.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1HKYhp9LJ64ajNBY2h1aFNJUzQ/view?usp=sharing" target="_blank">https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1HKYhp9LJ64ajNBY2h1aFNJUzQ/view?usp=sharing</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-91657629960249756032014-03-24T18:03:00.000-07:002014-03-25T06:04:51.257-07:00Grave Expectations<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The year is 1969, and I am a Senior at Hickory High School. Our Honors English class is reading Dante's "Inferno" and I am apparently asking too many questions of the teacher because my friend, Tom, continues sighing. Some exasperating sighs. At one point, he just blurts out: "SARA HILL! YOU ARE OBSESSED WITH DEATH!" This will become one of the defining moments of my life. Thanks, Tom, for speaking your truth. And for the inscription in my yearbook. Forty-five years later, I am STILL obsessed with death. After all, there is nothing which so intensifies life as the practice of remembering death. <i>Memento mori.</i> And here's to the hope that we all end up crossing the River Jordan and not the Styx!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-90764382427984248012014-03-22T17:44:00.000-07:002014-04-15T19:40:11.043-07:00Barbie and Mabel<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here is Pat, hard at work with the design of my shroud! Can you see the MODELS she is using, to help explain to me how the shroud will work?!! She found her Barbie at a thrift store and told me, "It was obvious from her purple lips, discolored legs, vacant stare, and general stiffness that she had departed this life, so I closed her eyes out of simple decency. Mabel's demise was sudden and unexpected, but fortunate for me, as I needed a more <i>zaftig<b> </b></i>model!!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-698485819787697118.post-34659538681913080902014-02-27T18:28:00.003-08:002014-03-25T06:49:52.592-07:00The End!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, it might look odd to see "The End" at the beginning, but with this new blog, I will be telling the tale of how my funeral shroud is being created. I will also write about how I came to be interested in death and dying, a topic that my generation, "the baby boomers," is beginning to talk about more openly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am blessed to know a wonderful artist in my hometown of Mebane, North Carolina, and she graciously consented to design and make my funeral shroud.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am very interested in green burial, and am hoping that a green cemetery will be created at my church in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. This is sort of like the ULTIMATE in recycling...to be returned to the earth without embalming, without a vault, and simply wrapped in an eco-friendly shroud like the one being designed by my artist friend, Pat Scheible.</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0