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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?”
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
absolutely do this herself 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.”
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.
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.
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!)
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!)
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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!)
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.
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).
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.
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 rigor mortis sets
in.” Jenny told her, “We don’t rush
anything in this work.”
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!)
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.
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.
Deep wet moss and cool blue
shadows
Beneath a bending fir,
And the purple solitude of
mountains,
When only the dark owls stir—
Oh, there will come a day, a
twilight,
When I shall sink to rest
In deep wet moss and cool blue
shadows
Upon a mountain’s breast,
And yield a body torn with
passions,
And bruised with earthly scars,
To the cool oblivion of evening,
Of solitude and stars.
“Deep
Wet Moss” by Lew Sarett
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.
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!
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!)
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.
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!
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.
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.”
I hope this will become
my signature gift to everyone for whom I have the
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.
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 Death Certificate
and Notification of Death 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 Burial Transit Permit in the car with the Death Certificate, 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.
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!
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.
“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.”
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!)
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; 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.
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