Keefe Funeral Home Blog

Green Funerals (A History)

Tue, 23 Mar 2021 09:37:25 GMT

Wrapping Up Affairs

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 08:03:04 GMT

After a death, to-do’s abound.

I n my work as an end-of-life consultant, I am often charged with helping surviving loved ones wrap up the affairs of the deceased. This is no easy task, and is only made more challenging by grief and emotional upheaval that can make even getting out of bed feel like climbing Mt. Everest, not to mention raising kids and tying up an endless list of loose ends. In my work with survivors, I have put together a simple guide culled from several different sources to make the process of wrapping up the affairs of the deceased a little more simple and straightforward.

A detailed list of all that needs doing is outside the purview of this article, but it is worth noting that there are ten major steps that I will mention here. I encourage you to hire an attorney to help take care of the business at hand. If this type of resource is financially out of reach, I suggest you purchase a guide to help you navigate this unfamiliar terrain. My personal favorite is AARP’s Checklist for Family Survivors, which can be purchased online.

Here are some general action items that you will need to attend to following a death:

What About the Children? Pets?

Does the deceased have young children that need to be told of the death? We have resources to help you consider how to break the news and ways to support them in their grief. Are there pets left behind? You’ll want to make a plan to tend to them immediately.

Burial & Ceremony

Take a deep breath and think about what kind of ceremony honors the deceased wishes and the grief of the loved ones. Pick a funeral home to help you orchestrate your meaningful ritual or ceremony and take care of logistics like filing the Death Certificate.

Survivors’ Benefits / Social Security

Notify Social Security of the death. Apply for Social Security benefits online if applicable. You will also need the SSNs of any dependent children of the deceased.

Bank Accounts

Do NOT EVER withdraw money from a deceased person’s account if you aren’t a joint account holder. Set an appointment to go to the bank with a death certificate. If you have access to online banking, look at what payments are made automatically so you know which services to notify and discontinue first.

Insurance

Locate annuity policies and companies associated with health, disability, medicare, car, homeowners’ and life insurance companies. Deliver copies of death certificates and proof of your relationship with the deceased.

Online Presence / Protecting Against Fraud

Identity theft of the deceased is a very real problem that can make your already overwhelming to-do list nearly insurmountable. Call credit reporting agencies such as Equifax, Experian, and TransUnion and ask them to flag the credit report of the deceased as “Deceased. Do Not Issue Credit.” Attend to deceased’s online accounts like social media and discontinue subscription websites and auto-renew billing.

Real Estate

Identify commercial, rental, residential, and time-share properties. Obtain deeds from the county.

Debts

Identify personal, residential, commercial, and credit card debts that need to be paid.

Mail

Collect mail and sort into three categories: 1) Accounts; 2) Subscriptions, and 3) Advertisements so that you can begin to close up relevant affairs. Complete a change of address form with the US Postal Service and submit to local post office with proof that you are authorized to manage the deceased’s mail.

Prepare for Probate

Estates worth more than $150,000 must go to probate. This is the legal process of settling the estate. An attorney can help you prepare all relevant documentation for this process.

Wrapping up the affairs of a loved one feels overwhelming, but if you can put your head down and break the mammoth responsibility into discrete tasks, you will be surprised at your ability to do this. I promise, you can do this. As my late friend Catherine loved to say: “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”

Children and Loss

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:59:33 GMT

When Facing a Death, Kids:

Seek Validation.

Acknowledging the child’s loss affirms a child’s sense of himself as a valuable, legitimate member of a family and larger society. Adults should speak directly, frankly, and immediately about death to a child, using concrete language and avoiding euphemisms like “resting in peace” or “gone to a better place.” In empathically engaging with a child about death, you should not be too worried about upsetting them or making things worse. Like adults, children benefit from social support: it reduces stress and makes us less prone to lasting psychological problems. Try to let the child lead, listening carefully to her and giving her direct and simple answers to any questions she may have.

Crave Ritual.

Loss can make children feel even more out of control than usual. Providing them with a chance to hold a ceremony or ritual promotes their sense of personal agency. Establishing a predictable, clear routine is especially important given the changes that inevitably accompany loss. Knowing what to expect gives kids a sense of authority when they otherwise feel powerless.

Struggle to Understand.

At any age, disbelief and denial are common responses to loss. The natural brain development of children puts them at a disadvantage in coming to terms with the loss. Children do not have the capacity to fully grasp concepts, may ask repetitive questions, or may be confused. A clear, consistent message delivered patiently in frank language by someone they trust is best.

Tell Their Stories.

Children are naturally drawn to stories and storytelling. Storytelling creates cohesion and fosters understanding. By becoming authors of their own experience, children can regain a sense of control and understanding about their loss. Allowing children the freedom to tell their stories gives them a sense of self-competence and confidence as they face challenges. Journaling, drawing, creating and communicating with others about loss promotes healing from grief and honors the child’s relationship with that which has been lost.

Collect Mementos.

Children are natural collectors. In the event of a loss, this tendency to collect may intensify. This comes from a desire to reinforce their developing identities and possess items that they like and identify with. During loss, kids often seek keepsakes, items, and ways to honor and memorialize that which has been lost. Importantly, many children fear that they will forget those who have died. Memories fade over time, especially in minds that are still developing at the time of the loss. This is scary for children who cling to memories as their only way to remain connected to the deceased. You can help your child curate and store items in a special container that keep memories alive.

Feel the Pain.

Children somaticize, meaning they tend to express grief through their bodies rather than putting words to their complex emotions. After a death, you might notice an increase in aches, pains, and boo boos. Stomach and head aches are common. Children also may act out aggression, anxiety, and sadness through their bodies. Soothing words and gestures will help them understand that you recognize their pain and will tend to them.

Experience Fear.

Anxiety, fears and worries escalate in times of loss. Many children regress to behaviors they have outgrown or that are more commonly seen in younger children. You may notice sleep difficulties, nightmares, or a fear of the dark. In school, students may have difficulty concentrating, may easily lose focus, or may develop academic troubles. Over time, this should subside, so don’t be too afraid to indulge them a little with childlike measures to make them feel less afraid, like a nightlight, worry dolls, or a stuffed animal at bedtime.

Feel Guilty.

Although unwarranted, guilt is a common response in children when they experience the death of a loved one. Natural aggressive feelings like sibling rivalry, frustration, and parental opposition are all healthy parts of growing up. Unlike adults, though, children aren’t yet able to draw firm lines between reality and fantasy. They may mistakenly believe that their aggressive feelings somehow inflicted real pain or caused a death. They may fear that any anger they feel after a death makes them inherently bad. Children need to be reassured that they are not to blame for the death, and that anger is normal. They also need space to honor and express their love for the deceased, to reinforce the self-perception that they are loving and kind.

Are Still Kids.

Play is the work of childhood. Children use play to work out aggression, to manage anxiety, and of course, to have fun! In the face of loss, they often vacillate between grief and play, and may surprise you with their easy ability to shift attention away from grief rather than wallowing as adults tend to do. And being kids, they love gifts, treats, and mail- a personalized touch that says I love you, I understand you are suffering, and I wish you well can go a long way.

What on Green Earth is Water Cremation?

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:55:40 GMT

Ashes to ashes the green way.

Water cremation known by any other name (Alkaline Hydrolysis, Aquamation, Flameless Cremation, Resomation, Biocremation) is still water cremation. But what on earth is it? The Cremation Association of North America describes the process, developed in the 1990s, as "a water-based dissolution process for human remains that uses alkaline chemicals, heat, and sometimes agitation and-or pressure, to accelerate natural decomposition."

Is it green?

Water cremation is indeed a green! It uses a lot less energy than traditional cremation, and uses no fossil fuels: no natural gas or propane is needed in the process. Because the process is run on electricity, it produces zero emissions. Water cremation destroys embalming fluids, pathogens, and chemotherapy agents. It sterilizes implants and prepares them for recycling. The sterile effluent (the leftover fluid) is 96% water. In many states, the effluent, said to be full of amino acids and macro and micronutrients, are being used by tree farms to water and fertilize their trees. Because one water cremation process uses about the same amount of water of a single daily use of a household of four, many municipalities appreciate that the water effluent is reintroduced to the system after the process. The inorganic bone left after the process is ground to ashes just like in a traditional cremation, but the ash from a water cremation tends to be whiter and “cleaner” in appearance and texture.

Are people choosing water cremation?

One funeral home reports that when they started offering water cremations to families, 85% of them preferred them to flame cremations. Families tend to like the gentle nature of the process, and appreciate that no flame is involved. They also like that their loved one’s body stays under one roof the whole time, instead of being taken to an industrial site. Water cremation allows for loved ones to potentially be present as witnesses throughout the entire process. For those who are religious, they appreciate that Holy water can even be used in the process of a water cremation.

Why isn’t it available in Massachusetts?

I’m so glad you asked.

First , the equipment is expensive and slower than flame-based creation. In the grand scheme of things, water cremation is a new innovation, and the price of the equipment reflects its nascency. Flame based cremation takes two hours at temperatures exceeding 1500 degrees F. Water cremation is a slower, cooler, gentler process that takes a lot longer, which impacts the productivity of the machine.
Second , it threatens the profitability of existing businesses. As with most innovations, water cremation disrupts the longstanding iron grip of industries that have profited off dispositions of bodies, like casket companies and traditional cremation providers. In one particularly telling instance, an innovator in water cremation lobbied the Indiana government to permit water cremation in their home state. Once the issue was debated on the floor, a congressman gave an impassioned speech, calling the process undignified and inhumane. No surprise when it was later revealed that this vocal opponent owned a casket company. The fact that water cremation threatens profitability for some could explain why.
Third , the Catholic church doesn’t like it. While there’s been no official stance from the church, individual dioceses and priests have taken issue with effluent being poured down the drain, arguing that this demonstrates a denial of faith in the resurrection of the body and fails to show respect for human remains. It is worth noting that the church does not stand to profit as much from a water cremation than from other methods of disposition.

Keefe funeral homes is proud to have a relationship with a water cremation facility in Maine with whom we work to be able to provide the option to families who wish to pursue this for their loved one. Ask us about our green cremation options.

The One Thing To Not Say

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:47:22 GMT

Meeting someone in their grief is hard. We can help.

My friend had longed for, tried for, prayed for a baby for a long time. And now she cradled her precious stillborn baby girl in her arms. “At least,” her mother said to her, “the baby died before she grew up. Imagine if you had had her for a few years and then had to lose her.”

My friend and I have known each other for years, but this was the first time she was talking to me about this experience, 20 years in the past. Her pain was still raw, palpable, and contagious.

“But she didn’t understand. I would have given anything, anything, to spend even one hour with her alive.”

To be in the presence of another person’s suffering is sacred. It is also terrifying, as sorrow that great threatens to swallow whole anyone who bears witness. I listened to my friend, cried with her, and felt angry at her mother’s seemingly insensitive response to this tragedy. But then I recognized that her mother’s only intention was to stem her daughter’s unbearable agony. This is human: a desperation to ease our loved ones’ pain.

I became aware in that moment of my own acute desire to make it better for her, twenty years later. At the same time, I was fearful of committing the same crime, inadvertently wounding my friend further. What could I say?

It’s not as if I haven’t had practice. As a therapist, my job is listening and responding to difficult stories. My business sending care packages to grieving children immerses me in the pain of others. My doctoral work featured interviews with Holocaust survivors. Yet here I was, silenced by my fear of the clumsy misstep.

Now that I have cancer, I am on the receiving end of efforts to ease my suffering. While I recognize that the intentions are uniformly kind and aimed at alleviating pain, I have sometimes cringed at others’ inelegant reactions to my news.

I have come to the conclusion that there is really only one rule that matters when bearing witness to another’s suffering. At all costs, avoid any statement that begins with “at least….” “At least it didn’t spread.” “At least he didn’t suffer.” “At least you got to say goodbye.”

Why is it so hard for us to find the right words for the sufferer? We feel uncomfortable and helpless, so we strive to do something that brings comfort, not only to the sufferer but also to ourselves. We want to feel like we are helping; we want to be uplifting, hoping that somehow our optimism’s momentum can pick up the other person and drag her from despair.

Empathy can be a powerful antidote to pain, but empathy asks a lot. Empathy requires us to join others in their dark place and match their tenor. When we empathize with someone in pain, we experience pain too, our mirror neurons firing in the same sad, desperate patterns. We listen and we hear heartbreaking melodies in minor keys; we feel the agony in the music. The moment we move toward a solution, we attempt to be uplifting, the moment we utter the words “at least…,” we have jumped to a higher octave, a more cheerful note in a major key. We are now singing out of tune with the sufferer.

“At least…” not only signals a break in empathy, it also induces guilt. Any statement that begins with these words will be followed by the identification of a privilege, an indication of the ways in which the sufferer’s situation could be worse. What is the result? The sufferer is implicitly called to agree, to assuage the speaker. “Yes, you are right. Thank you for pointing that out.” All the while, the sufferer feels guilty. “Maybe I don’t have a right to wallow.” As a therapist, I heard this a lot, this guilt in feeling pain when so-and-so had it worse.

But the most damaging result of, “at least” isn’t the break in empathy or the call to guilt. It is the fact that the use of “at least” effectively robs the sufferer of the chance to activate her own resilience. She can no longer discover the silver lining herself if you’ve preemptively pointed it out.

Educational philosopher Maria Montessori once wrote about a little boy who, smaller than his peers, was struggling to see what was happening in the playground’s water basin around which the bigger and older children had excitedly gathered. This boy spotted a stool on the far end of the playground, dragged the heavy thing clear across the yard, and was just about to mount it and peer in when a teacher noticed his struggle and lifted him up to see over the top of his classmates’ heads. Montessori expresses her disappointment: “Undoubtedly the child, seeing the floating toys, did not experience the joy that he was about to feel through conquering the obstacle with his own force…. His intelligent efforts would have developed his inner powers… the little fellow had been about to feel himself a conqueror, and he found himself held within two imprisoning arms, impotent.”

Trust me, there are plenty of “at least’s” with my cancer. At least I caught it early. At least we have good insurance. At least our kids are well supported. At least we have the financial and educational resources to advocate for the best treatment. There are silver linings everywhere. But I don’t want you to point them out to me. You might get them wrong. You might make me feel guilty. You might short-circuit my process. Let me generate and discover my own “at least’s.” Don’t rob me of my opportunity to summon my own inner powers, to conquer my own obstacles, to discover my optimism.

Let your thought of “at least” trigger alarm bells. “Warning! Danger Ahead! Use Caution!” Instead, try a gentle hand on a shoulder. Try a “tell me more about your experience.” Or try silence and a listening ear.

Author’s Note: This post is a reprint I wrote in the midst of my cancer battle in 2017, when I first consulted with the Keefe family to plan my own funeral. Now I am cancer-free and helping Keefe serve families in their time of crisis. It is an honor. At least* my cancer brought me my dream job!

The Comfort of Objects

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:40:44 GMT

Children (and adults!) activate resilience through special connections to things.

The night before I headed into the hospital for my double mastectomy, my daughter gave me her stuffed dog. “Chancy will take care of you while you are in the hospital,” she told me. Initially, I was reluctant to take her up on the offer. I had visions of losing Chancy, or spoiling him with hospital germs. At that time, Chancy wasn’t the most prized of my daughter’s furry friends, but he was important. He had been gifted to her when she had spent the previous holiday in the emergency room replenishing her fluids with an IV when a nasty bout of the stomach flu left her dehydrated. A hospital social worker delivered Chancy as a parting gift as if to say, “thanks for participating in our program.”

At the moment the social worker handed my daughter the dog in that emergency room, an ordinary dog was stamped with extraordinary meaning, bringing a small measure of comfort and specialness to a bleak situation. He was cute and cuddly, but more importantly, he was a symbol of recognition of my daughter’s suffering. The giver recognized that there were other places a six-year-old would rather be than the emergency room on Christmas Eve. Chancy helped her feel recognized and comforted.

Once I brought Chancy home from the hospital after my surgery, his position in the Stuffy Hall of Fame was secure. He became my daughter’s full-on lovie and ever-present bedtime companion. He had served his family faithfully in their time of need, first my daughter, and then me. By accepting her offer to bring him with me, I had helped my daughter feel that she had contributed something meaningful, helpful and loving to ease my suffering. And indeed, when I woke up after my procedure and found Chancy in my recovery bag, I tucked him into bed and let his fuzzy comfort remind me of the love of my family.

Having something soft to cuddle can provide a soothing function that can impact our emotional well-being. In one particularly interesting study, adults were made to feel either socially included (they were told “others chose to work with you this research task”), or excluded (“no one wants to work with you”). Afterwards, half of the subjects were invited to hold a teddy bear while answering questions about their emotional state. Among those who were excluded, those that held teddy bears expressed significantly more positive emotions. The researchers hypothesize that the mere act of touching a teddy bear might foster positive emotions and mitigate loneliness.

We have long known of the importance of soft touch for babies. Infants have a vital, universal need for what Harry Harlow called “contact comfort:” the soothing physical connection to the soft and cozy. This need is so basic, it can even be met with inanimate objects. In his series of studies with primates in the 1950’s and 60’s, Harlow demonstrated that in the presence of a stand-in, terry cloth “surrogate mother,” infant monkeys explored their environment more freely and demonstrated significantly less fearful and isolating behavior than those monkeys with a wire surrogate. The monkeys’ ability to nuzzle the terry cloth surrogate protected them from the paralyzing, regressive, fearful behavior demonstrated by the monkeys with the cold, hard, wire surrogate mother.

This contact comfort continues through childhood. Objects can help reinforce a sense of safety and security in tough times, and they become imbued with special meaning for children. In psychology, we call them transitional objects or comfort objects: they provide comfort as the child gradually transitions from dependence on parental figures to independence. According to the traditional developmental psychology’s attachment theory, the realization that we are separate beings from our caregivers occurs to us in infancy, and is experienced as a loss. We suddenly realize that we are utterly dependent and powerless, alone in the world and at the mercy of our connection with our caregiver. This anxiety prompts us to bond with inanimate objects that are inextricably associated with the soothing comfort and care of our primary caregiver (traditionally the mother), and this helps us maintain closeness and connection with mom, even in her absence. Through transitional objects, we are able to maintain the bond with mom via her “stand in” comfort object when she is increasingly separate. The security blanket, pacifier, or “lovie” is born.

Transitional objects are soothing and beneficial for healthy development even in the absence of a major disruptive event, but can be especially important in times of trial following a death. They offer features that can be critically important for children’s coping mechanisms. In his landmark research about transitional objects, psychologist Richard Passman observed: “At times, the blanket seems more meaningful to an aroused child than does the mother herself.” Why would the upset child prefer an object even when mom is available? Because unlike mom, the object is totally under the aegis of the child, and he or she can exert total control over it instead of being at the mercy of its availability or independent functioning! The second helpful feature of a comfort object is that it offers the child a powerful opportunity for role reversal: the child can be in charge of taking care of it. The helpless stuffed animal becomes a psychological holder for the child’s fears and feelings of helplessness following the death of a loved one. The child can work through that anxiety in displacement- a less threatening, arms-length working through of difficult emotions from the position of the omnipotent caregiver. Chancy is afraid of the dark, so I have to turn the light on for him.

A seminal research project from the 1970s reveals just how impactful this caregiving responsibility can be for people who have little control over their environment. Judith Rodin and Ellen Langer conducted an experiment in a nursing home in which they gave residents a houseplant. Half were told that the staff would care for the plants (the “control” group); half were in charge of taking care of the plants (the “engaged” group). The psychologists were astonished to find that a year later, those that were in charge of taking care of their house plants were more cheerful, active and alert than those who were not in charge, and less than half as many of the engaged group had died at the point of follow up compared to the control group. Of course, children are not nursing home residents, and plants are not transitional objects. But perhaps we can learn from this study how helpful it can be to give our un-empowered little people an opportunity to take care of something, especially in times of trial.

If being responsible for a houseplant can be beneficial, this begs the question: what about a pet? A pet offers all the same aspects of a transitional object (and then some!): often soft, cuddly, yours, ready to receive care, and a holder for all kinds displaced of emotions (without a voice to object or correct). In fact, psychologists have investigated children’s experience with pets in their family, and by the children’s own account, they use pets as transitional objects. Pets can be wonderful companions and confidants to people of all ages, and kids don’t hesitate to make use of them to help them through hard times.

While I have tried to provide the social science behind why kids get comfort from objects, as a parent I’m sure you’d chide me that your common sense tells you all you need to know about your child’s attachment to a special stuffed animal or blanket. In fact, your child’s connection to a special object should demonstrate to you that children are incredibly resilient, and will often seek out what they need, even as infants, even in the absence of parental intervention or guidance. But I’ve included it as a core tenet in helping kids cope with the death of a loved one because I think it is important to recognize and honor their efforts to help themselves. Doing so will help you - and them- remember that even though they are children, they have effective tools at their disposal to cope with life’s challenges.

In Sum,

Parents can recognize and respect objects as important tools for the child’s sense of safety and security.
Objects can bridge the gap for children who are experiencing anxiety or sadness, especially in the wake of a death
Objects are often helpful because they are possessed by the child and under the control of the child
Children may assume caregiver roles with objects as a chance to feel less powerless.
Objects can be an effective holder or container for difficult emotions , and can serve to help the child work through some of these emotions through displacement.
If your child does not currently benefit from an object, it is never too late to co-create one . You can design and paint pen a pillowcase or quilt with your child, create a soft blanket with a favorite quote or pictures of the child and the lost lovved one on it to cozy under, or pick and name a stuffed animal as a special present to recognize the child’s grief.
Pets can serve as wonderful transitional objects for children. (But if you don’t own one yet, you don’t have to tell the kids it is recommended!)

Talking with Kids About Death

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:37:55 GMT

Every child is unique, and every grief reaction is different.

Children are always growing and changing, adapting to new skills that come with maturity. Therefore, it can be difficult to prescribe general rules about how to talk to children about death. If you’ve done any reading on the Internet, you have likely come across plenty of don'ts: don’t say “I know how you feel;” don’t say, “they’re in a better place;” don’t say “it is part of God’s plan.” All these don'ts, while helpful pointers, can make us nervous and frighten us right out of saying anything at all to kids. But if we refuse to talk to children about death, or we somehow signal that we must remain silent about loss, we are doing a disservice to the child and missing an opportunity to help them understand and make sense. Rather than explore what to avoid, let’s talk about proactive steps you can take to help your kids understand death.

“DO’s” for Helping Kids

Take off your adult lens. Know that your child experiences loss differently than you do and will have different feelings and fears. Children aren’t smaller, less-equipped versions of adults. Do put yourself in their position and figure out how they really feel.

Answer the question, the whole question, and nothing but the question. When responding to your children about death, try to stick to the exact content of their question and address only what they have specifically inquired about. Otherwise, you risk giving them more information than they are ready for or can assimilate and this can confuse them.

Expect repetition. As you probably have already discovered, children need to hear something over and over before they understand and internalize it. Your child may ask the same questions you’ve already answered a hundred times already. This is normal. Similarly, as they cycle back through their grief, you may see questions or patterns re-emerge that you thought had been retired. This is common enough that social scientists have given it a term: re-grieving.

What is Re-Grieving?

Children will often revisit their grief as they grow, cycling back through their grief reactions again and again. Children who experience loss often go through stages of what experts call “re-grief.” This refers to the tendency of children to revisit their grief as they grow up. As they progress through more advanced levels of development, children need to make sense of loss in light of their new cognitive skills. By re-grieving, children can assimilate the loss into their evolving sense of selves, leading to a greater understanding of themselves and the world around them.

Lean on your faith . All religious traditions provide explanations for what happens when a living creature dies. Rely on your particular beliefs when discussing death with your child (i.e., “in our faith, we believe that even when someone’s body dies, their spirit lives on in heaven and in our hearts”). Even if you are agnostic or vaguely spiritual, you might find different religious interpretations helpful in talking to your children.

Be a Model . For better or worse, children look to adults in their world for their reactions to make inferences about how they should think, feel, and behave. Their understanding relies heavily on adult understanding, both what’s communicated to them verbally and non-verbally. Modeling a sensitive, attuned, proactive and appropriate response to loss goes a long way in helping children understand their own grief.

Writing a Memorable Obituary? Read This First

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:34:09 GMT

Be authentic, not aspirational

Perhaps you've already had the chance to read the obituary that went viral last year for 82-year-old Connecticut man Joe Heller.

Here's a sampling of the very long text:

“Joe Heller made his last undignified and largely irreverent gesture on September 8, 2019, signing off on a life, in his words, 'generally well-lived and with few regrets.' When the doctors confronted his daughters with the news last week that 'your father is a very sick man,' in unison they replied, 'you have no idea.'”

The family goes on to say:

“If there was ever a treasure that he snatched out from under you among the mounds of junk, please wait the appropriate amount of time to contact the family to claim your loot. We're available tomorrow.”

And finally,

“No flowers, please. The family is seeking donations to offset the expense of publishing an exceedingly long obituary which would have really pissed Joe off.”

You can read the entire obituary here: https://www.courant.com/obituaries/hc-obituary-joe-heller-20190910-story.html

Joe Heller

Now, I never had the pleasure of knowing Joe, but his obituary not only makes me wish I did, it calls to mind some beloved characters from my own life, and reminds me why they’re so loveable and memorable.

A humorous personal obit like this also has a way of disarming us from the serious, solemn attitude we usually take when we read an obituary, or think about death, or are in the presence of another's grief. It actually has an enlivening effect, reminding us that the humor, the vibrancy, the deep love despite the flaws - is the heart of a life, and the soul of a memory. I think that’s what makes a good obituary: one that invites you to celebrate a life rather than mourn the death.

Before Joe's obit went viral, there was another obit that I clipped and saved - right at the height of my own showdown with mortality as I was undergoing chemotherapy. This one was for Jan Lois Lynch, of our very own Boston MA.

Here’s an excerpt her obituary:

“Jan Lois Lynch of Evansville, Indiana and native of Boston Massachusetts passed away on October 18, 2018. Her sudden and untimely death came as quite a shock as she was only diagnosed with advanced COPD, advanced emphysema, advanced heart disease, cystic fibrosis, chronic bronchitis, stroke, extreme stubbornness, restless leg syndrome, and arm chair quarterback.

Jan is survived by her four loving sons, Jeff (Missy) Patterson, Greg (Billie) Patterson, Jake (Emily) Lomax, and Luke (Mabel) Lomax and eight grandchildren whom she loved more than anything else in the world…except the New England Patriots, the Boston Red Sox, Tom Brady, cold Budweiser, room temperature Budweiser, cigarettes, dogs, mopeds, clam chowder, boating, fishing, Florida, the Atlantic Ocean, grouper sandwiches, adventures, road trips, the beach, Sunday Night Football, Monday Night Football, fall foliage, airplane food, ingrown toenails, the OJ chase, and the OJ trial – in that exact order.”

How hilarious is that?!

You can read the full text here: https://obits.courierpress.com/obituaries/courierpress/obituary.aspx?n=jan-lois-lynch&pid=190589967

Perhaps funny isn't your cup of tea for an obituary, or it doesn't appropriately reflect the deceased's personality, and that's okay. But if you can find a way to be authentic instead of aspirational, to invite readers into what made your dearly departed uniquely loveable despite their flaws (because we ALL have them), I think you're sure to capture the readers imagination and heart, reminding them what really matters in life.

Jan Lois Lynch

Kids are Still Kids

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:13:47 GMT

Even after a death, play reigns.

How many of us remember the image of three-year-old JFK Jr. standing stoically at his mother’s side, saluting as his father’s casket passed by during the funeral procession? The photo of “John-John” is emblazoned in the collective memory of the nation, enduring as a heartbreaking and haunting picture of a child’s grief. With the recent death of the photographer of that photo, the image has been revived from the archives and splashed through the news media again.

I have been submerged in understanding child grief, and the return of the salute photo got me interested in the bigger picture. Like all indelible images, this image beckons its viewer to imagine the story, evoking thoughts and feelings that influence our interpretations. Many people who were present at the time, including the photographer, military officials, political aids, and family friends explored their own versions of this photo and its meaning.

As I grew increasingly interested in the story behind the salute, I came across a different viewpoint written by a former George magazine employee (JFK Jr.’s magazine). JFK Jr.’s comments to his employee journalist suggest that the media’s interpretation of his salute was inaccurate: the boy was not following his mother’s instructions to salute his father’s casket. The journalist goes on to conclude, “It was far more likely, I believe, that he was mimicking the saluting guardsmen who lined the street. He was having a moment of fun on an otherwise grim occasion.”

This viewpoint is controversial, but I love it. Although conjecture, I believe this explanation has real merit. A three year old is literally built for play and has little understanding of the gravity of death. To be made to salute for the media or public’s benefit by his surviving parent seemed cruel to me. As I climb deeper into understanding the grief of children, I find myself protective of the child’s experience and resentful of the long shadow cast by adult interpretation, with all its accompanying complex thoughts and feelings. I don’t like the thought of a child, who is navigating an extremely challenging and devastating time, having to be burdened and bogged down by the expectations and projections of the public—it seems like unnecessary baggage the child is forced to carry at precisely the time we should be working to lighten the load.

I would argue that if indeed John-John was having a moment of fun, that is not an inappropriate taboo or an interruption in what should be sacrosanct. I would argue that that bit of fun is itself sacrosanct: it is too valuable to be interfered with. Should we sully a young child’s reactions with our adult imposition of what’s right and proper and polite and appropriate? I fear that too often us adults are preoccupied with what we need and want instead of what the child needs and wants.

Play is the work of childhood—it is vital to healthy human development, both cognitively and physically. Children use play to explore and learn about their environment, to work out aggression, to manage anxiety, and of course, to have fun! Play is as central to their lives as language is to ours, so it is only natural that play would have a prominent role in children’s grief reactions.

It can be jarring for an adult to see how quickly and easily children vacillate between grief and play; just when you’ve braced yourself to answer that difficult question or prepared for the anguish of trying to comfort an upset child, they’ve seemingly moved on from that moment in time. Indeed, children may surprise you with their easy ability to shift attention away from grief rather than wallowing as adults tend to do. In time, the child will likely cycle back through their sadness and re-grieve. It is important to normalize this vacillation-- both for your own reassurance and for the reassurance to the child lest they feel guilty for following their natural instincts to play.

Play is not disrespectful to grief, it is an important aspect of coping and processing. And if indeed John-John was having a moment of fun, more power to him.

How Will I Tell My Kids?

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:11:00 GMT

After a death, kids struggle to understand

Any time there is a death, you will inevitably hear (and perhaps even mutter yourself), “I just can’t believe it,” or “I can’t wrap my mind around it.” At any age, disbelief and denial are common responses to loss. It is difficult to comprehend death, and when discombobulating grief overlays our mind’s struggle to make sense of tragedy, we may find ourselves at a total loss. Death always seems senseless, even if it is anticipated, so it is inevitable that anyone would have difficulty making meaning.

When you layer on the disadvantage of children’s burgeoning cognitive capacities, understanding death can seem insurmountable. Indeed, for decades, experts believed children lacked the sophisticated abstract thinking and language skills required to describe or comprehend death’s finality, much less to address the question, “why?” For years, psychologists relied on Piagetian stage theory as a lens to understand children’s constructions of the concept of death. According to this theory, children progress step-by-step in a predictable pattern through different levels of understanding until they reach the pinnacle: highest-order abstract reasoning that adults enjoy.

Social scientists have since discovered that the problem with this model is two-fold. First, the age ranges Piaget suggests are not so clear-cut: some children as young as four demonstrate capacities Piaget believed to emerge in the teens. Others do not progress as steadily and can get “hung up” at certain points in development. The second is that this framework inadvertently permitted adults to ignore children’s grief, under the faulty assumption that children were not developmentally or cognitively advanced enough to be aware of or desirous of understanding of death.

An Updated Developmental Perspective

Scholars have identified 4 important components of death that need to be understood to grasp the concept of death. I introduce them here as a framework of understanding:

1. Irreversibility. Once a physical body dies it cannot be made alive again.

2. Nonfunctionality. In death, all physical bodily functions cease.

3. Universality. All living things must eventually die.

4. Causality. Death is the result of a cause.

I introduce these components so that you can use them to assess where you think your child falls on the spectrum of understanding. Personally, I find these concepts helpful in organizing my own thoughts when talking with kids about death. I do not recommend that you try to teach these four components to your child, however. Doing so would likely confuse them further.

General Age Range Understandings

Let’s take another look at Piaget’s concepts with these four characteristics of death in mind, while remembering that every child is unique and may not fit neatly into the age range as presented here.

Under 4 years old

At this stage, a typical child cannot grasp any of the four features of death. Death is more of a felt experience of absence rather than a mind’s knowing. While children in this stage may have recently acquired some important building blocks, (like object permanence, the idea that an object can still exist even if out of view of the child), they are not yet able to flexibly apply these concepts to reach a coherent understanding of death. A child may be aware that grandpa isn’t there, but may not yet understand that his absence means that he no longer exists, and that this is permanent.

Ages 4-6

Imagination comes to life and days are filled with pretend play and magical beliefs, where children visit faraway lands and enjoy magical powers. This age is rife with egocentricity, the child’s failure to take or understand another’s perspective. Interestingly, this is also the point at which curiosity begins to be piqued and kids start to wonder about the world around them, prompting them to increasingly ask, “how come?” Despite their growing interest in “why,” children in this stage often fail to link cause and effect and will often make incorrect assumptions about why a certain outcome, like death, occurred. This makes the fourth feature of death, causality, particularly difficult and potentially anxiety-provoking for kids this age. Kids may worry they played a role in the death, or failing to properly understand what caused it, may believe they are at risk too.

Ages 7-11

This is the age in which logic is rapidly developing for children as they begin to be able to follow a train of thought and make deductions about the world around them. Children pay greater attention to their environment and can take another’s perspective, allowing them to become more astute observers and data collectors. They begin to be able to draw inferences and identify general principles that allow them to begin to accurately predict outcomes. Kids this age understand “if…then” relationships and solve more complicated problems based on their growing base of general knowledge. As children progress through this stage, they may begin to grasp the four aspects of death, and are likely at a prime age to want to talk to adults more about death’s four components.

12 and up

Adolescence brings giant leaps in a child’s cognitive abilities as they begin to develop hypotheses and draw conclusions. Dreams for the future begin to take shape, fed by the feelings that many adolescents have: I am unique and special. Here the universality of death naturally fades into the background (how many of us know-- or were-- teenagers that think, “I am invincible!”)? The death of a loved one may bring them back to this harsh reality, which is a bitter existential pill to swallow, especially in the middle of grief.

Regardless of the age of the children you seek to help, it is always important to indicate your willingness to engage with them about death. Read on for tips on talking with children of all ages about death.

Grief Resources

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 07:08:04 GMT

Education and Support for Grieving Families

Bereavement Support Group

Service provided free, courtesy of Keefe Funeral Homes

Christy Keefe Kiernan, LICSW

617-547-5544

617-491-2357

info@keefefuneralhome.com

The Children’s Room

Local grief support services & programming for kids ages 3½ to 18 who have experienced the death of a parent (or sibling), as well as support for surviving parents and caregivers.

1210 Massachusetts Ave, Arlington, MA 02476

781-641-4741

Center for Mindfulness, Compassion and Community for Grief

https://www.griefcircles.com/

Mindful Conscious Grief Journey

for All Loss

Moving through grief, for healing and connecting with life,

with Mindfulness, Compassion and Community (MCCG).

G.R.A.S.P.

Grief Recovery After a Substance Passing

Peer-led support group for those who have lost someone to devastating disease of addiction.

Beacon Hospice

Support groups for people dealing with grief.

Nancy Duffy 617-242-8370

Care Dimensions

Support groups at various locations

978-774-5100

Hallmark Health VNA & Hospice

Bereavement groups for both children and adults

Judy Seifart: 781-338-7861; jseifert@hallmarkhealth.org

The Dougy Center

Online grief resources for families

Rainbows for All Children

Grief support & groups for kids

Books for Adults

Final Gifts

By Maggie Callanan & Patricia Kelley

Option B

By Sheryl Sandberg & Adam Grant

On Death and Dying

By Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Passed and Present: Keeping Memories of Loved Ones Alive

By Allison Gilbert

AARP Checklist for Family Survivors

By AARP

Being Mortal

By Atul Gawande

Die Wise: A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul

By Stephen Jenkinson

When Breath Becomes Air

By Paul Kalanithi

Books For Kids

Life is Like the Wind

By Shona Innes / All Ages

I Miss You: A First Look at Death

By Pat Thomas / Ages 3-7

Saying Goodbye: Memory Book

By Erainna Winnet / Ages 5 & Up

The Invisible String

By Patrice Karst / Ages 3-7

Lasting Love / All Ages

By Caroline Wright

The Handy Answer Book for Kids (And Adults)

By Judy Galens and Nancy Pear / All Ages

After A Death: An Activity Book for Children

By The Dougy Center / Ages 5-13

Cry, Heart, But Never Break

By Glenn Ringtved / All Ages

The Grief Bubble

By Kerry DeBay / Ages 6 & Up

Why Did You Die?

By Erika Leeuwenburgh & Ellen Goldring / All Ages

What Is a Green Funeral?

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:56:17 GMT

My friend Eva taught me.

A few years ago I had the pleasure of meeting Eva, who is an 89-year-old Cantabridgian absolutely dedicated to environmental consciousness. Eva quickly won me over with her unabashed corrections of other people’s grammatical errors, her incredible breadth of knowledge, her involvement in the community, and her keen sense of humor. Eva is a true scholar- she does her research and always gets her facts straight. And she is not the least bit afraid to set anyone else straight with her wisdom. If you can’t tell, I love her.

Eva was green before anyone knew what that was. She has been leading by example on the subject of environmental consciousness since AT LEAST the early 1970s. Eva wishes to die as she has lived- in an eco-friendly manner that minimizes her impact on this earth. Now Because Eva does not drive (at 89 she takes the bus or walks for miles to get where she needs to go… it is, you guessed it, greener), I have joined her on her quest to ensure her death is as green as possible. I have had the pleasure of driving her to meetings and sites and graveyards in her quest, and been educated by her on Zoom through her Green Burial Massachusetts presentations. (You should check them out, by the way, they are a stellar organization dedicated to educating the public about green options and making them available to you. www.greenburialma.org ).

So what exactly IS a green burial?

For a burial to be green, it needs three things:

No embalming of the body. Instead, refrigeration or green solutions are used in the event that the body needs to be temporarily preserved.
No hard woods or metal materials in the casket or coffin. Only untreated woods or natural materials such as wicker or cardboard which will readily decompose and not pollute the earth.
No Concrete vaults or liners. Now what are those? This is a concrete base that some cemeteries require in their bylaws and its sole purpose is for landscape cosmetic reasons. Its paid for by the consumer, by the way

So, again, a green burial :

Does not employ embalming
Does not use hard woods or metal in the casket
Does not require a vault

According to a recent survey by end-of-life planning agency Cake (I also recommend you check them out, www.joincake.com), most of us prefer a green burial.

So you’d think Massachusetts, given its progressive population and environmental consciousness, would be bursting with green burial options. BUT, you’d be wrong.

You see, to get a green burial, you need cemeteries that allow it. There are three types of cemeteries that permit a green burial.

The greenest type of cemetery permitting green burial is called a conservation burial ground . These types of cemeteries are on easement with a land trust and are dedicated to conservation and restoration of land. We don't yet have this option in Massachusetts.

We also don’t have cemeteries in the second category: natural burial grounds . Natural burial grounds use no vaults, no embalming, and only biodegradable containers throughout the entire cemetery, and the memorial markers are typically from the land, not a monument dealer.

What we DO have in Massachusetts are hybrid burial ground s. In a hybrid cemetery, there are conventional gravesites alongside the graves that are vaultless and contain biodegradable containers. (You can learn more about which cemeteries in MA are hybrid by visiting our one-of-a-kind, only-find-it-here, interactive map on our website).

Now, there are lots of ways to “green” your funeral without a full-blown green burial in conservation land. Think of it as a green spectrum, there are options from grey to light green all the way to a deep dark evergreen. If sustainability appeals to you, here are some things you can consider:

You can skip embalming
You can choose a shroud or eco-friendly coffin
You can plant a tree instead of setting a granite headstone.
You can ask that the grave liner be put in upside down.

Some people wonder if cremation is a good way to green a funeral.

According to National Geographic, one cremation produces an average of 534.6 pounds of carbon dioxide. Given this figure, scientists estimate that cremations in the U.S. account for about 360,000 metric tons of CO2 emissions each year. It is certainly greener to go for natural burial. Having said that, there is always room to green a funeral, even in the event that the deceased has been cremated. At Keefe, we’ve made it our mission to find ways to green your funeral if you so desire.

So, it turns out that the hours spent in the car with Eva- the chatting, the laughing, the backseat driving, the wisdom- coupled with the meetings and scenes we’ve encountered together has finally got me drinking the Kool Aid on going green in death. I am a new convert to green funerals. And I am so pleased to be helping Keefe funeral homes bring these options to Eva and to all of you.

Get it Together!

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:49:33 GMT

Preparation now for your eventual death is a gift to those you leave behind.

Once I got over the initial shock and panic of my cancer diagnosis, relief came when my husband reassured me, “we will assemble the best possible team of oncologists and surgeons and chemotherapy specialists at the best hospitals to figure out the best path forward.” Yes, I thought. I don’t know squat about cancer or how to treat it but I can find out who does and let them take care of that part of it. They can chart the navigation path and I will dutifully set sail wherever they advise me to go. It felt good to surrender that aspect of responsibility, so that I could turn my attention to what was and should be within my control: what kind of attitude I was going to have on this trip.

Further relief came as I discovered other aspects that belonged solely to me: how long and hard I intended to fight, and yes, what it would look like if and when I ever reached a point in this journey where it was time to stop. Knowing your limits and being aware of them doesn’t make you any less of a fighter or any more willing to give up.

I spent a decent amount of time and energy looking into death, planning how I wanted my life’s end to look, and working to reduce the logistically nightmarish burden I would leave behind for my family to take care of should I die of my cancer. I learned many interesting factoids and was generally nonplussed by the whole endeavor, only to be met with family members and loved ones replies: “No! You can’t think like that! You’ve got to fight!” As if a mindful, considerate death plan indicated I was throwing in the towel and surrendering to a premature death.

Speaking of premature death, what does die prematurely even mean? Before I’m ready? Who is ever ready? That’s the point. I realized that whether death comes for me tomorrow or in ten years or in forty years, I am pretty certain that it will always feel premature, and there will be more I want to do before I die. But preparing now can relieve a giant burden on your survivors, no matter when your time comes. I was relieved to find something I could actively do and check off my list while I was sitting around waiting for the doctors’ interventions to do what they were designed to do. After all, who better to say what’s right for me, and when’s better than now, while I can still say it?

There are really only five crucial elements we all should make sure are taken care of right.this.minute. Five. That is not a lot. You’ve probably already done some of them. So just go do it.

Five Crucial Elements

1. HIPAA - this acronym stands for the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, which is a US law that protects your medical records and health information. This is important to you because you have control over who receives information about your health. If for some reason you wind up in a position where you are medically unable to give consent to have your information shared, you want to make sure that you have indicated ahead of time who can and should be privy to your health information. Generally speaking, if the doctor can reasonably infer, based on his or her professional judgment, that you (the patient) would not object to the sharing of your information with someone (like a spouse or a close relative), the information would be shared. For this reason, HIPAA is not the most pressing item on your five point checklist, but for those who do not have a spouse or whose close relatives live out of town, this would be an important document to sign at your next doctor's visit.

2. Medical Proxy (also known as Medical Power of Attorney) - This is paramount and also is likely to be taken care of through the course of your breast cancer journey, especially if you are having surgery. A medical proxy is a legal document that indicates who gets to make all your medical decisions about your care in the event that you are rendered unable to do so yourself. This person should have a deep knowledge of your wishes (item #4), and should not be someone whose own emotions or needs will cloud their judgment or interfere with what you want. It is wise to choose two medical proxies (also known as surrogates or agents): a primary, and a secondary if the primary should be unable to proxy (for example if you and your spouse were in a car accident and both of you were left incapacitated). Please note that this medical proxy is the individual who will make only your medical decisions about your care in your stead. All other decisions, legal and financial, are designated to your:

3. Financial Agen t- (also known as attorney-in-fact)- A financial agent is the individual you designate to make all non-medical decisions for you should you become incapacitated. Financial transactions, social security checks, taxes, legal documents, and investments all fall within the purview of the financial agent. Ideally, you would designate a different agent than your Medical Proxy as your Financial Agent, as the responsibilities of each are disparate and involved.

4. Living Will - (also known as Health Care Directive or Advance Directive)- This is the item in your checklist that will take the most time, and perhaps consternation, to take care of. A comprehensive living will addresses your wishes regarding your medical treatment in the event that you are no longer able to give informed consent, and then some. It can detail your wishes about your funeral, the disposition of your body, and how you wish to be remembered. In the state of Massachusetts, this is a non-legally-binding document, but that does not make it any less important to complete. My personal favorite is a document called “The Five Wishes,” which social workers at every major hospital should be familiar with and willing to share a copy of. This document asks you to consider nitty-gritty details about your death, which will bring you in intimate touch with your own mortality. This can be uncomfortable to some, and relieving to others. The truth is, death is a fact of our lives, so being intentional about it as you are other aspects of your life and health care makes sense. Once you have completed this document, you will want to share it with your medical proxy. Trust me, if your medical proxy is ever faced with making decisions for you at the end of your life, they will be grateful to have this detailed account of your wishes. It alleviates anxiety and fear and guilt and is an essential part of your healthcare.

5. MOLST - (also known as “DNR: Do Not Resuscitate”)- This is an acronym Massachusetts uses for Medical Order of Life Sustaining Treatment. (Other states may refer to it as such or as POLST, MOST, POST, or TPOPP). No matter what acronym it goes by, this document is often printed on bright pink paper and stuck on your refrigerator as you near the end of life. It works in conjunction with your Living Will to make clear what your wishes are when you are diagnosed with a serious illness or frailty. This document is meant to give medical orders and tells emergency medical personnel what treatments you want and do not want to have in the event of a medical emergency, hence its presence on your fridge. First responders are trained to check for such a document when called to a home in a medical emergency of an ill or elderly patient. While it is important to think about these things, it is likely premature to post your MOLST on your refrigerator just yet. I mention it here because as you are thinking about your living will, it is good to understand exactly what kind of medical interventions are involved in life’s end stages.

It is also worth mentioning a fascinating line of research about what is called the hedonic treadmill: a theory which posits that regardless of what happens to people, including cancer, they will eventually return to their happiness baseline.2 This is relevant to consider as you think about what your end-of-life looks like. For example, if you think you’d rather die than not be able to go to the bathroom on your own, you might be surprised by how differently you feel when you reach that point. You may realize that your autonomy in that department wasn’t as tied to your happiness as you thought, and the goal post might shift. This is why it is important to make your ideas about end-of-life known now, but to keep updating them and considering them as time passes. Make sure you keep those you love up-to-date on your wishes, too.

If all this planning seems daunting, don’t worry. You don’t have to do it alone. Your primary care physician should be prepared and willing to help you through each step of this process outlined here (with the possible exception of #3, as it is outside of medical purview). While we should all complete these steps even in the absence of a serious diagnosis, if you are over 65 it becomes more relevant and pertinent, and- the best part-covered by insurance! Most major insurances follow Medicare’s law entitling anyone over 65 to “advance care planning:” fully reimbursable sessions with your physician to have conversations about your end of life plans and to complete the proper documentation outlined here. At your next encounter with your doctor, initiate the conversation about these items! You’ll be glad you did, and so will your family.

P.S. If you want extra credit, you can even plan and pay for your perfect funeral. Keefe has been helping people do this for more than 65 years.

Do You Validate?

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:46:06 GMT

After a death, validation can go a long way

I am a person who appreciates personal space, so when I found myself wedged between the subway car pole and the crushing weight of about 200 other always-in-a-hurry Manhattanites, I focused my eyes on a spot on the tin ceiling and took deep breaths, counting the stops until my liberation. As we pulled into another packed platform, there was a tangible sense of increasing tension as those passengers “lucky” enough to already be on board collectively braced for the onslaught of even more pushy customers.

At the next stop, there was clearly no room, yet the woman at the platform repeatedly tried to jam herself onto the car, insisting that if we only squeezed in a little more, she would fit. She pointed to what appeared to her to be an open space in the center of the car, shouting, “Look! Move there so I can get on!” As the doors mercifully closed, I felt a sense of satisfaction that she had not made it into our car. What she didn’t know was that seemingly empty space in the center was actually a 5-year-old child clinging to his mother’s hand, enduring this hell like the rest of us. Except that at least the rest of us could see the windows, see what was going on, and defend our personal space with jagged elbows and wide stances.

For days after, I spent an embarrassing amount of time scripting the perfect snarky reply to that pushy platform woman. Obviously, that scene still haunts me today and even as I write this, I find myself panicky and short-of-breath. If it was bad enough for us adult passengers, just imagine the experience of that child: shorter, smaller, unable to see above the sea of bodies, his marginalized space threatened at every stop.

Maybe it’s a strange analogy but I think about that story when I consider a child’s grief. I think about what it must feel like when a family member dies, to be surrounded by adults preoccupied with their own pain and sorrow, who themselves are desperate for the discomfort to subside, trying to breathe and focus. To feel helpless and crushed and threatened, gripping tightly to whatever hand or anchor is nearby. To have others mistake your smaller space as empty or available for someone else.

I don’t think any of us intentionally ignore or disregard or smother children when they are experiencing grief, I just think that is often the unintentional outcome of our own fumbling discomfort with death and sympathy.

Adults typically respond in two ways to a child's loss: either total silence because they are concerned they could upset the child further (which to the child, must feel identical to being ignored), or fawning sentimentality that may comfort the adult, but can confuse a child who doesn't know how to express what they are feeling. Children often end up marginalized into oblivion or smothered and suffocated.

How can you appropriately validate a child’s loss?

Say something and be specific.

Don’t leave the child wondering if you heard the news. Just as you would acknowledge an adult’s loss, you should extend that same courtesy. But instead of saying a generic “I’m sorry for your loss” when you acknowledge the child’s grief, use the child’s name and name the loss: “James, I know that your mom died and I want you to know that I am sorry about that.” Legitimizing the child's loss affirms a child’s sense of himself as a valuable member of a larger society.

Keep it simple.

Unless the child is your own, you likely have very little understanding of how the child is emotionally responding to the loss. Try to avoid any statements that involve assumptions about how the child is feeling, including mentioning how you would feel or have felt in similar situations.

Avoid euphemisms.

In our efforts to avoid upsetting the child, we may be tempted to soften harsh concepts, replacing “death” and “died” to “loss” or even in the case of pets, “put to sleep.” We recommend that adults speak directly and frankly about loss, using concrete language. It is best to say mom “died” when acknowledging it to a child.

In recognizing and naming a child's loss, you should not be too worried about upsetting him or making things worse. Like adults, children benefit from social support: it moderates stress and makes us less prone to anxiety, depression, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. After all, as Dr. Seuss opined, "a person’s a person, no matter how small."

Do Children Belong at Funerals?

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:43:20 GMT

An Argument in Favor of Attendance

Parenting is a “should” minefield. Full of ideas of what we should be doing with and for and to our children, and full of questions about how we should handle emotions, behaviors, events and circumstances. Thank goodness we have Google at our disposal 24-hours a day, with endless answers to every real or imagined question, for every should.

Take, for example, “Should I take my children to a funeral?” Seems straightforward enough, but on Google you will find answers like “absolutely not,” to “of course,” and every shade in between. Only you know whether your child’s capacity and the circumstantial demands of the service make your child’s attendance necessary and appropriate. But whether they stay or go, when a parent dies, kids need a ceremony.

Funerals are but one of many ceremonies our society has created to honor life’s passages. We don’t think twice about including our children in other important ceremonies, from birthdays to weddings to anniversaries. In many such celebratory events we even give children an important and central role to play. Why not funerals?

What are we protecting them - or ourselves - from?

We recognize how important ritual is in other aspects of our child’s life, but when it comes to dealing with death and loss, we shy away. This seems to be a uniquely American problem. An investigation of death rituals around the globe reveals other cultures’ celebratory and inclusive efforts to commemorate a life that has ended. In Madagascar, mourners of all ages dance with the dead; the Hmong of Laos chant songs and play flutes to guide the soul to eternity; in Ghana they build elaborate fantasy coffins, sending their deceased off in style. The collectivism of other cultures- where it literally takes a village to raise the child- often means that children are naturally included. In America, many of us have the luxury of the option of leaving children behind with babysitters or in daycare.

On the internet, concerns about including children in funerals tend to reflect adults’ needs rather than children’s. The articles espousing benefits of children attending funerals were largely adult-focused, detailing why children at the funeral is good for the adult mourners: a welcome distraction, hope for the future. Those encouraging children to stay home were preoccupied with concerns that the children would misbehave or fail to be appropriately somber, upsetting the other mourners.

If we turn our focus to children and their needs, fear seems to be the driving force behind the decision to leave them out of the ceremony: fear that children would find it confusing, or worse, upsetting. Fear that the children will become alarmed upon witnessing the emotional shattering of the adults that they rely on for support and guidance. But the most compelling arguments were made by adults who missed important funerals as children because adults in their lives thought it was inappropriate, unnecessary, or too upsetting to bring them along. Many of these accounts explored the regret and disappointment the now-grown children had about missing the opportunity for closure, mourning, or a formal goodbye. They needed the ceremony.

Child-Focused Reasons to Include Children

Funerals and memorial services can be helpful and important for children, as they:

Scaffold a child’s learning about the circle of life
Celebrate life’s purpose and meaning
Give children practice with mourning
Provide opportunity to experience the love, support, and cohesion of families
Create structure around death, helping children feel emotionally contained

If you do choose to include your child, here are some

Tips for Including Children in Funerals:

Give them a roadmap ahead of time. Tell them what they can expect about the process of the funeral: how long it will last, where it will take place, who they will sit with, people or things they might see there. This helps the child feel less afraid or uncertain.

Give them a concrete way to contribute. The funeral does not need to be a strictly passive process—give your child a way to actively participate by placing a flower, lighting a candle, or making a card.

Arm them with distractions. Funerals can be overwhelming and boring for children. Prepare a “hush” bag of activities and snacks that can keep them quietly occupied- make sure to unwrap crinkly bags and wrappings at home before you go.

Protect them from fawning sentimentality. Aunt Bertha’s sobbing, hugs and kisses make an already sensitive experience overwhelming for a child. Steer your child clear of mourners who may be out of touch with appropriate boundaries and don’t be afraid to signal that your child’s personal space needs to be respected. Model an appropriate greeting or interaction with your child by encouraging hand shakes.

Make a plan for what happens after the ceremony. If your children are old enough, have them participate in the after-funeral plan. You can consider cooking a meal together, planting a seed, or creating a craft. This helps put a punctuation mark on the end of the funeral.

If you are still not convinced that your child should attend the funeral, I encourage you to find a way to help your children hold their own age-appropriate, child-centered (and maybe even child-driven) ceremony. Read more on our website for suggestions on how to do just that.

Death Wishes

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:43:17 GMT

Getting Creative with My Funeral Plans.

Back in October, when I was buried alive in death and dying research (and before my own diagnosis with cancer), I happened upon an article written by a woman in the UK who asked her grandchildren to decorate her husband’s coffin. Yes, you read that correctly. Her beloved husband of decades passed away and right smack in the middle of her grief, she went to the store, purchased a simple pine casket, paint, and brushes and plopped it all in her front yard for her young grandkids to go to town in remembrance of their grandfather. Then she buried him in it.

How insane. I was totally enchanted.

I really can’t do the article justice (so I am linking it below). Let me just say that this idea spoke to my soul. It was a revelation. I discovered this piece at just the right time: after I had spent many months—no, years—trying to understand how to best help children cope with loss. Any earlier and I’d be tempted to reflexively reject this outright, perhaps as you might be tempted to do at this very moment. I can only assume that most people don’t immediately like the idea or they themselves would want the same for their loved ones and we’d all be buried in a symphony of rainbow colors and rudimentary stick figures. But what happens if you pause for a moment and allow yourself to be curious? For me, the space between turned shock and incredulity into awe, and ultimately, determination; I must make this happen for me, too.

How irreverent! How celebratory! What a perfect way to engage the children on their level! In one fell swoop, this absurd invitation accomplished many of the things I had come to understand as central to helping kids cope: an ingenious mix of art therapy and playfulness wrapped up with a meaningful way a child can contribute to a ceremony that validates their loss. This man was buried in deeply personal, colorful style. Who wouldn’t want to go out like that?

With American aversion to death (facing it, talking about it, planning for it), I have often wondered what we are so afraid of. Other countries don’t seem so uncomfortable. Let’s explore the UK for exemplary attitudes toward death. From the comfort of your armchair, you can seamlessly order personalized, outlandish, and even do-it-yourself caskets online. Looking for a social night out? Consider eschewing your knitting circle and instead join your local decorate-your-own-coffin group. These people are not afraid. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, either.

When I began to seriously explore the idea of sourcing and selling kits for young kids to participate in casket decorating, I wondered if maybe I’d taken it a bit too far. People will think I have lost my mind. Why am I so morbid? But let’s pause for a moment and become curious. Morbid is defined as “an abnormal and unhealthy interest in disturbing or unpleasant subjects.” First of all, we are all going to die, so to be interested in how one’s own death is handled does not seem any more abnormal than considering puberty. And while death (like puberty) is unpleasant, the idea of intentionally engaging in how we celebrate and remember a life seems the very antithesis of morbid.

Speaking of morbid, I have been walking in the cemetery by my house in an effort to metabolize the havoc-wreaking chemotherapy I receive each week. The cemetery happens to be one of the most beautiful, peaceful, and calm places around. Since my cancer has made me feel more fragile, more intense, closer to the edge, the cemetery seems to match and mirror my current state. I have come to feel very comfortable here. I am not alone.

Home to over 700 species of trees, this cemetery has been beckoning solace-seekers, dead people, birders, and tourists alike since its opening in 1831. When I’ve been strolling the grounds lately, however, it’s the size of the tombstones, not the trees, that has captured my attention. Who erects these massive memorials? While some are gifted posthumously to recognize an individual’s outstanding life, many were purchased by the dead individuals themselves. One man spent $10,000—in 1834’s dollars!—importing a monument to himself and deeming that it be placed at the highest point in the cemetery when he kicked the bucket. What do you imagine he was thinking? “In two hundred years people will walk through this place and know that I was very rich and very important.” With all due respect, no thanks!

If the paint-it-yourself casket looked good before I was in touch with death, it looks even better now. I decided that for me, the UK’s approach to death is favorable to American avoidance. I decided to step out of my culture comfort zone and “give it a go.” I’m all in. I made an appointment with the grave salesman, Tom, at my beloved cemetery. It turns out his title “Manager of Family Services” belies the depth and breadth of this man’s knowledge of all things death. We talked for hours about every step of the process from the moments before the draw of last breath to “final disposition” (he’s also a master of death lexicon). I explored the various options, asked every taboo question and got straightforward answers. Tom was an unflinching teacher, and I was his grateful student. We ended our day together walking the grounds inspecting all my potential final resting places.

I walked out of the cemetery with a new lease on life (or death, really). I may not be terminally ill, but I do have a terminal condition, and so do you. It’s called life. I know how I want to go. I know what I need to do to make it happen. I understand the process: soup to nuts. I am giving a priceless gift to my family, and saving them money while I’m at it! I feel so empowered. This process has brought me closer to my mortality, and hence, the need to make my life count. I highly recommend you consider looking into your own death.

I’ll take a green cremation (courtesy of Keefe funeral homes), please, and bury my remains on plot #27 under the Honey Locust. Let my kids, or, by the grace of God, my grandkids draw and paint all over the cardboard lid of my specially selected green cremation box. Let them get sticky with finger paint and Elmer’s glue. Let them plaster my final resting box with pictures or feathers or sequins or whatever they fancy. Let them dress themselves however they’d like to send me off. Let them sing a song or say a prayer or cry or dance. And two hundred years from now people will walk by the place I was buried and see a beautiful tree. Dust to dust. Let that be my monument.

Death is a Crisis.

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:34:26 GMT

Not an emergency. There’s a difference.

Death is a crisis, not an emergency. While the terms crisis and emergency are often used interchangeably, they actually have distinct meanings. A crisis is defined as a crucial or decisive point or situation; a turning point .

An emergency, on the other hand, is a situation that poses immediate risk and requires urgent attention .

Once a death has already occurred, try to remember: You are facing a crisis, not an emergency. This is a crucial, decisive turning point, but there is no longer pressing danger that requires you to act right this very second.

This is not to say you are not feeling like screaming from the rooftops, with intense urgency, for someone-anyone!- to save you from this new reality.

But the reason this distinction is so valuable is because your call for help should not deprive you of the chance to honor this passing meaningfully, intentionally, and in a manner that respects your loss. For better or worse, the moment following a death comes but once, so this is your chance to make it count in a way that makes sense for you and your family.

In the U.S. Military, there is a distinction between emergency communication and crisis communication. In an emergency, the communicator that reports the emergency is not perceived as a participant in the disaster. The emergency is turned over to whom it’s reported.

If your loved one has died in a hospital (where the vast majority of deaths occur), the hospital staff may inadvertently add to your sense of urgency, what with their standard procedures designed to usher people through as quickly as possible. This is understandable, given their desire to continue to be able serve as many ill patients as possible with expediency. However, don’t let yourself be swept up in the impersonal, transactional approach to dealing with this death. You can absolutely take the time to think, to take a deep breath, and to make a plan instead of rushing headlong into the disposition of the body.

Remember: this is a crisis, not an emergency.

Do you wish to be a participant in making arrangements to honor the life of the deceased? There is time to take a deep breath and think about how you want to proceed. What kind of funeral represents the deceased’s wishes? And perhaps more importantly, what makes sense for your family?

A poet once opined "funerals are for the living." What kind of ceremony honors your loss and provides you a sense of peace and closure?

Well-regarded funeral homes are specially equipped and designed to help you think through and execute your wishes. At Keefe, our expertise lies in helping families orchestrate meaningful, intentional rituals, framing the experience and marking your loss in a manner that reflects your family’s values and wishes. And it has been our great honor to have been doing so for more than 75 years. Thank you for trusting us to help you in your time of crisis.

Don’t Make These Four Crowdfunded Funeral Mistakes

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:32:26 GMT

What you need to know for a successful campaign.

I am compelled to take up the topic of crowdfunding funerals after a phone call I received yesterday. A family was dealt a tragic blow when their adult daughter was killed in a car accident. The family was not prepared to pay for a funeral and has pressing medical expenses that make it impossible to give their daughter the kind of funeral their beliefs compel them to plan for her.

A friend of the family was calling me to ask for ways to help, for referrals to organizations that can help cover the cost of the funeral, or other ideas to meet the family in their time of need and grief.

I believe strongly in the power of ceremony and ritual to appropriately answer grief, and given this family’s desire to provide their daughter with a traditional funeral, it seemed like the best advice I could give the friend that wanted to help was to set up a crowdfunding campaign to help the family create the kind of ceremony they were seeking.

But then it occured to me, I don’t know anything about crowdfunding funerals. So I did my research, and I want to share with you what I learned. As you likely know, crowdfunding is a process by which you collect donations from the general public via the internet. Here, the old adage proves true: many hands make light work. In other words, many small donations add up quickly and can provide you the financial resources to pay for the funeral of a loved one. But while this practice has become increasingly popular lately, it is not without risk.

You will want to proceed with caution and understand the landscape. So let’s take a look.

Crowdfunding giant, GoFundMe, sites memorials as one of their fastest growing categories of campaigns, generating more than $330M annually to cover funeral expenses. While that’s a lot of money raised, it’s also worth noting that an estimated ⅓ of all campaigns do not reach their fundraising goal.

The most successful funeral campaigns are usually funded by family and friends, and people familiar with the deceased. Sudden or “premature” deaths of younger people generally reach their fundraising goals more frequently than do those campaigns seeking donations for the funeral of an elderly person, whose death can be considered more expected.

If you read about crowdfunding funerals online, you will find many articles about the multitude of risks in the process. Be sure to read with a discerning eye, though, because the vast majority of those articles are written by insurance companies who are trying to sell you something. News sources like Forbes and the New York Times, or disinterested groups like the Funeral Consumers Alliance, on the other hand, offer the following unbiased cautions if you are considering crowdfunding a funeral:

MISTAKE #1: WE ASSUME THAT WE CAN RAISE MORE $ THAN WE ACTUALLY RAISE.

We are generally averse to thinking about our own mortality or planning for premature death that we have not budgeted for the kind of funeral we may want to provide our loved one. When we embark on a crowdfunding venture we may hold the funeral first, planning to pay later with the money we think we can scrape up. But BEWARE! The majority of crowdfunded goals are not reached.

MISTAKE #2: WE DON’T CHOOSE OUR FUNERAL HOME FIRST.

When crowdfunding or paying out of your own pocket, you always want to choose your trusted funeral home first. When you choose a funeral home and make a plan first, you will have a better idea of the estimated cost of what you want, and that is how you should set your fundraising dollar goal. The Funeral Consumers Alliance warns that if you don’t have a clear budget and plan in place ahead of time, you may bring your crowdfund to a funeral home and end up with a more elaborate service than you wanted, one that matches your crowdfunded kitty instead of your family’s wishes.

MISTAKE #3: WE FORGOT TO CONSIDER WHETHER THERE ARE TAXES AND FEES

If you are lucky enough to reach a lofty crowdfunding goal, you may end up getting slapped with taxes and fees that you had not anticipated. The IRS has a threshold of $20K or 200 donations and once you cross that, you are obligated to report your campaign and may owe taxes on the money raised. You should also beware that donations to crowdfund campaigns are not tax-deductible, but rather count as gifts for tax purposes. You should also check whether the crowdfunding site you are using charges a processing fee and/or collects a percentage of donations.

MISTAKE #4: THE MONEY ISN’T GOING WHERE IT SHOULD

Whether you are raising money or donating money, you should be aware that crowdfunding sites do not police or provide oversight on the way the money is spent once it’s donated. Many funeral directors lament that they can still get stiffed on a bill (pun intended) after a successful crowdfunding campaign, because the recipient of the funds decides to spend the money on something other than the funeral. There have also been unfortunate cases of individuals collecting funds for funerals never held, or for funerals provided at no cost (for an infant, for example). This mistake has prompted some to create crowdfunding platforms exclusively for funerals (such as FundtheFuneral), which pays funds collected directly to the funeral home, saving the family from taxes and fees and ensuring the money is spent as promised in the campaign.

So now that you understand the risks, if you still want to participate in crowdfunding a funeral, go for it!

In summary, you’ll want to:

Choose a funeral home that you trust , understand the cost of providing the funeral and burial you want, and set your goal accordingly.
Register with a crowdfunding site once you’ve taken note of fees.
Create your description of your campaign . make sure you tell your story in a compelling way that will maximize your chances for contributions. Photos help. Videos are even better.
Provide your bank information , or if you wish to avoid tax concerns, choose a site like fundthefuneral.com that goes directly to your selected funeral home.

Good luck and Godspeed!

Children Tell Stories

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:25:26 GMT

After a death, kids help themselves heal with tales.

Children are naturally drawn to stories and storytelling. Storytelling creates cohesion and fosters understanding. Allowing children the freedom to tell their stories gives them a sense of self-competence and confidence as they face challenges. By becoming authors of their own experience, children can regain a sense of control and understanding following loss. Journaling, drawing, creating and communicating with others about loss promotes healing from grief and honors the child’s relationship with that which has been lost.

You can learn a lot about a child from the stories they tell. Psychologists have long thought children’s stories were windows into their minds and souls—there are testing instruments that were developed as a way to peer into the inner lives of children. Lately, my girls have been obsessed with stories about “bad guys” and “mean people.” I have deduced that they are finding their way about notions of justice, delineating right from wrong, and seeking resolution that has good triumph over evil to control their own fears and anxieties.

During my time running groups for traumatized teenagers, I was charged with guiding the girls through a model of treatment called narrative therapy. With the support of a therapist and their peers, these girls regained a sense of control and agency as they told the stories of their lives, separating their identity from the multiple traumas each had endured. Their expression of trauma and grief took multiple forms through journaling, artwork, and talking in the group setting—and sometimes the traumas were omitted altogether. It was each girl’s prerogative to choose what story she would ultimately tell about herself and her life. The overarching principle behind this group’s task is the same for all different kinds of therapy in all different kinds of places with all different kinds of people. Basically, give people the space to talk about their lives, their losses, themselves.

Tricky Business

Sometimes, even trained professionals make a critical mistake in understanding the wisdom underlying the therapeutic value in telling one’s story. Giving people the option to talk is different than telling them they need to talk. Giving children space to tell their own story as they want to tell it is different than asking children to verbally express their grief or trauma. Yet this distinction is the most important takeaway I have from my entire doctorate training.

Shortly after the planes smashed into the World Trade Center on 9/11, well-meaning therapists and counselors descended on local Manhattan schools to “de-brief” with the students who had witnessed the attack. The efforts of the therapists were borne from the belief that still underlies efforts of therapists today, that these children needed to “process” what they had endured; to let it all out before it seeped in and caused permanent damage. The truth is, many children who were debriefed after 9/11 reported that the debriefing sessions proved to be more traumatic than the tragic events themselves.

Similarly, Prince Harry recently spoke out for the first time about his mother, who died when he was 12. Harry cited it was “the way he had been forced to publicly grieve Princess Diana—and as a result hardly grieve at all—that did the most damage.” It took him almost 20 years to finally speak out about his unresolved grief and realize the healing power of telling his story his own way in his own time.

A whole body of literature emerged from this 9/11 debriefing finding, concluding that for single incident traumas (such as the death of a loved one), it is not clinically prudent to indiscriminately encourage talking about the experience. The study that first uncovered the harmful effects of de-briefing launched me into years of research to try to understand when talking is helpful and when it’s not, especially for children.

Here’s the Brass Tacks

Respect the child’s instincts. Well-meaning adults are often compelled to encourage children to talk, even if the child’s instincts lead the child toward coping mechanisms that do not employ verbal expressions of grief and trauma.

Give the child space to tell the story. Or not. It is always a good idea for loving adults to let the child know that they are available to listen. But it is not a good idea to force children to tell a story they aren’t ready to tell. Some children may never want to talk about their experience, and that is OK. But you should indicate that if they change their mind, you are there.

Let the child communicate HOW they want to communicate. Verbal expression is often not the primary mode of communication about grief or trauma. Non-verbal methods such as play or art can also serve as an outlet for expression. The loss may play a starring role in the story, or it may be in the footnotes. That is OK. Give your child lots of opportunities for different kinds of expression. One family I know installed a mailbox for her middle school daughter to leave written messages as a way to tell her story in her own time.

Seek the support that you need to help your child. In my years as a child therapist, countless parents would bring their children to me because they felt their child needed to “talk to a professional” about a trauma or loss or problems. In case you haven’t gathered, I did not take the “therapeutic approach” of making the child talk to me about said issue. My job in those situations, as I saw it, was to follow the child, but indicate that I was there as a supportive adult if ever they felt the need to explore tough material. You have the power to offer that same gift to a child, and if you need support in doing so, don’t hesitate to ask your pediatrician for a referral to a mental health professional. That’s what they’re there for.

Am I Really Going to Die?

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:19:28 GMT

Spoiler Alert: Yes.

Do you believe the Universe conspires? I’m not necessarily talking about the “Everything Happens For a Reason” stuff. I’m talking about things unfolding in your life as if it was preordained, pre-destined to happen. Prescribed, unavoidable Fate.

In 2017, three months before my 40th birthday, I was struck by a bolt of lightning. Figuratively, of course. A fully formed idea woke me from a dead sleep at 3am. I will start a business: care packages specially designed to help kids grieve. I would use my expertise as a child psychologist to help kids through loss and tough change, like the death of a family member, or the cancer of a parent.

And I did it. I was off and running, sending boxes to kids enduring hard times all over the country. The launch dovetailed perfectly with my 40th birthday. With so much to celebrate, I made big plans for a blowout dance party, which delighted our three young children who were eager to don their fancy clothes and boogie with mom and dad.

But when my 40th birthday arrived three months later, I wasn’t on the dance floor. Instead, I was in a barber’s chair in the back room of a hair salon while a solemn stranger shaved my head bald. My life had just been completely upended by three words: you have cancer.

Oh, the irony. I had been devoted to helping anonymous children but now had to face my own: ages 6, 4, and 2 – and break the news that I would need a double mastectomy and a year of chemotherapy. In those earliest days, we weren’t even sure I would survive it.

I had no inkling when I launched three months earlier that my kids might need to receive a box. But you see, that’s the thing about death. When we think of it, if we think of it at all, we always think about it happening to other people. Death is what happens to other people.

When you get a cancer diagnosis, though, you suddenly get smacked in the face with an unpleasant thought: death could happen to me.

And then you go for the first time and sit in the waiting room of the cancer ward decorated with posters from a high school service project- you can do it! Keep fighting! And you realize they are for you. As you get chemotherapy each week, you surreptitiously survey the room of tragically ill fellow patients-- and you do some sick actuarial math and wonder how many of us will survive this? You hold the hand of your friend, who was diagnosed at the same time as you, who will be dead in a week, leaving behind a nine year old son.

You look into the faces of your precious children as you tuck them in at night and they look back at you, bald and bloated and pale and exhausted from the chemotherapy and they wonder aloud, “Mama, are you going to die?” And you don’t know what to say, because the only thing worse than a dead mother is a lying dead mother.

You get clubbed in the head over and over again with the most repellent thought: death might very well happen to me.

But then you have to laugh hysterically, in the truest sense of the word hysterical: with wildly uncontrolled emotion. Because OF COURSE death will happen to me: it is basically the only thing in this world I can count on with utter and complete certainty.

Did Fate conspire to hit me with the lightning bolt of my business idea because she knew I needed to prepare early for my death? So I could begin the work now of helping my kids deal with grief? I didn’t know, (I still don’t know) but I wanted to make sure Fate knew I got the message.

So I read lots of books about death. I picked my funeral director (surprise! It was Tim Keefe) and my cemetery plot. I threw a kids party to do a dry run of decorating my coffin. (No, they didn’t know what the box was for and yes, it turned out fabulous).

I did all of this with my children at the center of my plans: to help them grieve when I die. To be able to show them what it means to die with intention.

To face death as a fact of life instead of a lost battle.

By the time we realized that it was unlikely that my cancer would kill me anytime soon, my three young kids could tell you with certainty and ease: all living things die. As if they’re talking about the weather.

Now I am two years cancer-free, but I’m still not counting on avoiding my Fate. I will die, maybe too soon. But the gift of my cancer is this: I no longer walk around with the idea that death is what happens to other people, or that I am somehow owed a long life. The deep awareness that my life is not promised to me is like a diamond I carry with me, every single day, forevermore.

A little fear diamond.

When I hold that fear diamond in the palm of my hand, I have a presence in the moment; a sense of gratitude and celebration. I recognize how lucky I am to get to have these moments with my family.

What if you, instead of counting on entitlement to live until you’re old and ready, or a nebulous belief that death is what happens to other people, exchanged that bill of goods for your own fear diamond? Because guess what? We are all going to die, many of us too soon.

There’s a free fear diamond from me to you- hold it tight in your hand, and let it remind you to be present, grateful and celebratory. Because for now, you and I have the unpromised, uninsured gift of life.

Lucky us!

Confronting Mortality

Mon, 15 Mar 2021 06:03:22 GMT

After a cancer diagnosis, a young mom is stripped of death denial.

Do you believe the Universe conspires? I’m not talking about the “Everything Happens For a Reason” nonsense. I’m talking about things unfolding in your life as if it was pre-ordained, pre-destined to happen. Prescribed, unavoidable Fate.

And I did it. I was off and running, sending boxes to kids enduring hard times all over the country. The launch dovetailed perfectly with my 40thbirthday. With so much to celebrate, I made big plans for a blowout dance party, which delighted our three young children who were eager to don their fancy clothes and boogie with mom and dad.

But when my 40th birthday arrived three months later, I wasn’t on the dance floor. Instead, I was stunned to find myself in a barber’s chair in the back room of a hair salon while a solemn stranger shaved my head bald. My life had just been completely upended by three words I had never expected to hear: you have cancer.

Oh, the irony. I had been devoted to helping anonymous children but now had to face my own: ages 6, 4, and 2 – and break the news that they were about to endure hardship, the likes of which none of us had ever seen. Mama would need a double mastectomy and a year of chemotherapy. In those earliest days, we weren’t even sure I would survive it.

When you get a cancer diagnosis, though, you suddenly get smacked in the face with an unpleasant thought: death could happen to me.

And then you go for the first time and sit in the waiting room of the cancer ward decorated with posters from a high school service project- you can do it! Keep fighting! And you realize they are for you. As you get chemotherapy each week, you surreptitiously survey the room of tragically ill fellow patients-- and you do some sick actuarial math and wonder how many of these people will survive this? You hold the hand of your friend, who was diagnosed at the same time as you, who will be dead in a week, leaving behind a nine year old son.

You get clubbed in the head over and over again with the most repellent thought: death might very well happen to me.

But then you have to laugh hysterically, in the truest sense of the word hysterical: with wildly uncontrolled emotion. Because OF COURSE death will happen to me: it is basically the only thing in this godforsaken world I can count on with utter and complete certainty.

So I read lots of books about death. I revisited the research about what grieving kids need. I picked my funeral director and met with him in his parlor to discuss my wishes, in the presence of a man laid out in a casket. I threw a kids party to do a dry run of decorating my coffin. (No, they didn’t know what the box was for and yes, it turned out fabulous). I did all of this with my children at the center of my plans: to help them grieve when I die. To be able to show them what it means to die with intention. To face death as a fact of life instead of a lost battle. By the time we realized that it was unlikely that my cancer would kill me anytime soon, my three young kids could tell you with certainty and ease: all living things die. As if they’re talking about the weather.

It just is. Of course, when their mother dies, especially if it is too soon, it will be devastating, and no amount of preparation can change that.

Now I am two years cancer-free, but I’m still not counting on avoiding my Fate. I will die, maybe too soon. But the gift of my cancer is this: I no longer walk around with the idea that death is what happens to other people, or that I am somehow owed a long and happy life. The deep awareness that my life is not promised to me is like a diamond I carry with me, every single day, forevermore.

A little fear diamond.

When I hold that fear diamond in the palm of my hand, I have a presence in the moment; a sense of gratitude and celebration. I recognize how lucky I am to get to have these moments with my children and my husband.

Maybe Fate is conspiring for you- right at this very moment- to hear the stories you are hearing tonight.

Because guess what? We are all going to die, many of us too soon.

There’s a free fear diamond from me to you- hold it tight in your hand, and let it remind you to be present, grateful and celebratory. Because if you’re reading this, have the unpromised, uninsured gift of life.