Taking Time for Death

My dear friend and neighbor Helen died today.

Helen died at home surrounded by her family. I can list all the things about Helen that I admired and loved about her, but it is her family that I am touched by.  She has an amazing family of children, grandchildren and a remarkable, romantic husband.

Helen’s greatness is reflected in her family. Her family cared for her in her home during her last days.  The young adult grandchildren gathered around, climbed on her bed, talked, and told stories about their lives.

Death was not wanted and there was great sadness in her departure, but there was a quiet acceptance as well. Her family members have different spiritual beliefs, but all with a solid bond of true love.

Being with a person who is about to cross over, or move on, or die, is an experience much like birth.  It’s intense, and deep, and a gift.

As I lay on Helen’s bed holding her hand and rubbing her hair, I noticed the moment:  the peacefulness of the cat at the foot of her bed, the chickadees at her window, and the timelessness.  My daily life is filled with struggles to live in the moment and to just be present.  There was no struggle as I sat on Helen’s bed just being with her.   Being with her life and surrounded by her belongings.

Helen died around 11:30 in the morning.  My husband sent a text message to me with the news.  It was expected, though not without sadness. It was a moment of letting go, a sadness of time going by, of life moving on, of memories that will never be real again.

The family washed and prepared her body for the funeral director coming to take her to the crematory.  There was no rush or urgency, only a life passing by with a family that was able to process their own grief in their own way.

Allowing the body to be with us at death, and stay with us for as long as we need, is a gift.  In this time of places to be and jobs to get done, it is rare that we are allowed moments like these.

My mother passed away 16 years ago of colon cancer.  It was expected and she died in our home. We did everything ourselves; my husband built her a box of creptomari.  My sister and I lined it with fabric and flowers she loved and we chose her favorite poetry and prayers.  We got a bagpipe player as she always loved the ballads.

We planned for and carried out my mother’s funeral entirely out of our home.  We kept her in our dining room overnight.  My son was only 3 years old, but he was curious about her in the box/coffin and wanted to look at her.  When my husband asked him if he wanted to take a look, he said “yes”, and was so curious and interested in “peeking”.  He, in his own way, was allowed to process what he needed to process about his grandmother’s death.  And then, we put her in the pick up truck and drove her to the Chilmark cemetery.

More than just about taking back traditions and ways of life that we once had as a society, there is an emotional healing that comes for those that care for their own dead.

Everywhere I look, life is more complicated and elaborate then in years before me, and once again, I ask myself - at what cost?

Here I am examining funerals, rites of passages, resources, and life and DEATH!

We don’t need lots of fanfare.  The use of unnecessary resources to pass on: coffins (made of god know what and shipped from god know where) and bodies filled with chemicals and more unnecessary resources.

(The chemicals that are used in embalming together constitute over 600 different products, all of which end up in our ground or atmosphere.)

This is about the natural way of going; meaningful, the way it used to be… heck we could even give it a buzz word of “green” or go into how local this is, but, it simply boils down to caring for those we love, experiencing intimacy at its greatest.  It’s NOT outsourcing the dying process to the professionals.

My dear friend Helen, died at home, simply, cared for by her family. It was organic and informal and filled with love.

Show me the manner in which a nation cares for its dead, and I will measure with mathematical exactness the tender mercies of its people, their respect for the laws of the land and their loyalty to high ideals ~ Attributed to William Gladstone British Prime Minister (1808-1898)

Yes, you can bury your own in most States.  Most States allow you to obtain your own burial certificate and you can do it all yourself, or you can choose to keep them home as long as you wish, and then opt for the simplest of options; direct cremation, with a car ride, 48 hour storage, and then a final ride to the crematory.

If you wish to check your State’s regulations regarding home burials, visit www.state.ma.us (substitute your own State’s abbreviations for MA) “Legislative” and burial.

Another great site for the consumer seeking information is www.funerals.org.