Final resting place: 11 celebs you might not know are buried in Las Vegas

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Tony Curtis
Tony Curtis sits for a photo in the art studio of his Southern Nevada home Friday, Nov. 30, 2001. Curtis was buried at Palm Eastern Cemetery in 2010.

What do Sonny Liston, one of boxing’s all-time best, and Pat Morita, the Japanese-American actor who played Mr. Miyagi in “The Karate Kid,” have in common?

Both are buried in Las Vegas area cemeteries. So are many other notables.

Here’s a list:

Tony Curtis — The Bronx-born actor, who died in Henderson in 2010, appeared in more than 150 films spanning more than six decades. Curtis, who was married six times, was buried at Palm Eastern Cemetery’s “Garden of Legacy” in October 2010 in a memorial service attended by his daughters, Jamie Lee and Kelly Curtis, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Kirk Kerkorian, Kirk Douglas and Phyllis McGuire, among other celebrities.

Redd Foxx — A stone’s throw from Curtis’ grave, in Palm Eastern’s “Garden of Devotion,” is the grave of Redd Foxx, a 1960s standup comedian. Fox, whose real name was Jon Elroy Sanford, was best known for his role as Fred Sanford on the TV sitcom “Sanford and Son,” which ran for six seasons from 1972 to 1977. He died in Los Angeles when he suffered a heart attack on set while rehearsing for a sitcom.

Rick Fabroski
Rick Fabroski, a groundskeeper at Davis Memorial Park on Eastern Avenue, stands by Sonny Liston’s grave, Feb. 18, 2008.

Harry James — Born to circus performers in a rural Georgia hotel, James became one of the most well-known trumpet players of the 20th century and has two songs in the Grammy Hall of Fame. James, who was married three times and had five children, died July 5, 1983, in Las Vegas, the same year he was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer. He was buried in Bunkers Eden Vale Memorial Park in Las Vegas, where former colleague Frank Sinatra gave his eulogy.

Pat Morita — A native of Isleton, Calif., Morita was best known for his acting roles in “Happy Days” and as Mr. Miyagi in “The Karate Kid.” After nearly dying from spinal tuberculosis as a toddler, Morita went on to have one of the most successful careers of any Japanese-American actor in the 20th century. He died of kidney failure on Nov. 25, 2005, at age 73 and was cremated at Palm Eastern Cemetery five days later.

Sonny Liston — One of the best boxers of all time, Liston compiled a 50-4 record in the ring before dying mysteriously in 1970. Still fighting through the year of his death, Liston was found dead in his bedroom by his wife, Geraldine, when she returned home from a two-week trip on Jan. 5, 1971. While the Clark County Sheriff’s Department ruled Liston’s death a heroine overdose, then-County Coroner Mark Herman said the amount of heroin found in his system was not enough to have caused his death. Authorities listed Liston’s official date of death as Dec. 30, 1970, and his birthdate is still unknown. He was estimated to be from 38 to 42 years old when he died. Liston is buried at Davis Memorial Park on Eastern Avenue, with a headstone bearing: A Man.

Pancho Gonzales — A 17-time men’s singles champion who won two U.S. Championship tournaments in 1948 and 1949, Gonzales is considered one of the best men’s tennis players of all time. Married and divorced six times, Gonzales fathered nine children and lived in Las Vegas for the last two decades of his life. Even after 16 years as tennis director at Caesars Palace, Gonzales was broke and out of a job when he died of stomach cancer in July 1995. He is buried at Palm Eastern Cemetery.

Albert Collins— Known for an uncanny stage presence, which often resulted in him leaving the stage to chat with the audience, or on one occasion order pizza, blues musician Collins was one of the 20th century’s most revered electric guitarists. Known for his mastery with the Fender Telecaster, Collins produced 10 studio albums and six live albums during his storied 30-year career. Ranked in Rolling Stone Magazine’s list of “100 Greatest Guitarists,” Collins died of lung cancer at his Las Vegas home on Nov. 24, 1995, and is buried at Davis Memorial Park.

Danny Gans — The “Man of Many Voices” on the Las Vegas Strip, comedian and impressionist Gans was once named Las Vegas’ entertainer of the year. An aspiring baseball player before he took up comedy, Gans had his own show on Broadway in the early 1990s before moving to Las Vegas in 1996. After stints at the Stratosphere, Rio, Mirage and Encore, Gans died in May 2009 due to a toxic reaction to hydromorphone, a common pain medication, according to the Clark County Coroner’s Office. He’s buried at Palm Eastern Cemetery.

Zakes Mokae — Born in Johannesburg, South Africa, in 1934, Mokae moved to Great Britain in 1961 and the United States in 1969. The star of “The Blood Knot” and “Master Harold … and the Boys,” among 16 feature films, Mokae won the 1982 Tony Award for Featured Actor in a Play. A Las Vegas resident at the end of his life, Mokae died on Sept. 11, 2009, after suffering a stroke. He’s buried in Palm Northwest Cemetery.

Liz Renay — A one-time girlfriend of Los Angeles mobster Mickey Cohen, Renay served more than two years at Terminal Island federal prison in California on perjury charges from 1959 to 1962. She played a starring role in John Waters’ 1977 film “Desperate Living” but was best known for her relationship with male celebrities. In a tell-all book about her relationships, Renay’s “My First 2,000 Men” claimed affairs with Joe DiMaggio, Regis Philbin and Cary Grant, among other celebrities. Renay was married seven times, divorcing five times and widowed twice. She died from cardiac arrest in Las Vegas on Jan. 22, 2007, and is buried in Bunkers Eden Vale Cemetery.

Dolores Fuller — A one-time songwriter for Elvis Presley, Fuller was known for acting roles in 1950s films “Glen or Glenda,” “Jail Bait” and “Bride of the Monster.” Born in South Bend, Ind., Fuller first appeared onscreen at age 10 in an acting and songwriting career that lasted nearly 50 years. Twelve songs written by Fuller and recorded by Presley include “Rock-a-Hula-Baby,” “Steppin’ Out of Line,” “Do the Clam” and “I’ll Take Love.” Fuller died in May 2011 at age 88 and is buried in Palm Eastern Cemetery.

Complete Article HERE!

Prince’s death illustrates importance of having a will

By Gail MarksJarvis

Prince

Pop music star Prince apparently died without writing a will, and it’s likely that his relatives and business contacts will be fighting in a Minnesota court for years over his estate, estimated at $150 million to $300 million.

With no wife or children, first in line, according to estate law, are Prince’s six siblings. Under simple court rules governing inheritances when there is no will, each of the siblings will get an equal share. That will apply whether Prince was fond of each of the siblings or not. And with Prince’s complex estate, massive business dealings, his practice of secrecy and millions in wealth at stake, attorneys don’t expect this case to culminate quickly or simply.

“It’s ironic,” said Avi Kestenbaum, a New York estate planning attorney with Meltzer Lippe. “Prince, at age 57, spent 37 years making his legacy. He fought the music industry for control, and now he has no control.”

It’s a lesson for other people, whether rich or poor, famous or regular. When you die without a will, you get no say. If you hated a relative, your children might end up in that person’s care. If you divorced and forgot to take a previous spouse’s name off an account or insurance policy, your new spouse or children might not benefit. If you have a business, and children with no interest in it and no business savvy get control, the value of your life’s work could be destroyed.

After a death, if there’s no will, a house with both spouses’ names on it will go to the surviving spouse. But in an era of multiple marriages and divorces, inheritances get sloppy. Consider a father with grown children who have sweet memories of the home where they were raised. With no will, a second wife could inherit the house and give it to her own children from her previous marriage, leaving out the children who were raised in that house, notes estate planning attorney Adam Damerow, of McGuireWoods in Chicago.

On the other hand, estate planning attorneys recall instances in which second wives have been left homeless because a husband died without updating an old will to incorporate a second wife. In an old will, he leaves his home and everything else to his children.

“The kids kick the woman out of her own house,” said Kestenbaum.

In situations where everyone gets along, the children might ignore the will and let the woman stay in the home. But in some families not everyone gets along, Damerow said.

The court can’t guess what might have been in a person’s head, but certain rules apply when there is no will: If a person has a spouse and children, the estate is divided half to the spouse and half to the children. If there are only children, the estate is divided equally among them. If there are no children, siblings come next and inherit an equal share of the wealth.

Many people don’t write wills because they assume they are young and have plenty of time. Yet Prince was only 57 years old. Many people also do not want to think about dying, or worry about giving up control, said Kestenbaum. They say: “I’ll be dead anyway. Why should I care?”

But the Prince case illustrates one reason to care: His siblings now could be targets of people trying to exercise business interests that are not favorable to them, and even if the siblings got along well the pressures can divide them.

Estate attorneys say that they often see families torn apart as they deal with the division of property and control after a death. “The most fights occur where there is a business or real estate that is given to children equally,” said Kestenbaum. “How do you run a restaurant with four chefs in the kitchen?” he said. “So maybe you leave a business to one child and insurance to another.”

Families should revisit the will every few years because as time passes, one asset can gain value a lot while another loses.

Les Kotzer, a Toronto attorney, takes preparations for the family even further in his book: “The Family Fight: Planning to Avoid It.”

During years of working with wills, Kotzer noted that many grown children end up in feuds because parents failed to talk with their children about wills while still alive. Conversations can suggest better ways of dividing possessions. One problem Kotzer noted was that one grown child might have memories of playing a piano in the family home, while the child who is to be given the piano in a will might have a spouse that doesn’t want the instrument cluttering their house.

Complete Article HERE!

Her secret history: I discovered my mother’s digital life after her death

The contents of my mom’s laptop were like a breadcrumb trail: her interests, her hopes and her plans for the future, even those that would never come true

‘I wondered about the clues I found: were they hints for how I should live my life? Suggestions for places I should go? Ideas to discover?’
‘I wondered about the clues I found: were they hints for how I should live my life? Suggestions for places I should go? Ideas to discover?’

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Not long after my mother died in 2014, less than eight months after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, my dad and I performed a ritual familiar to anyone who has lost someone they love: we went through her closet to decide what to hold on to. We kept her favorite pieces, like the cozy purple cardigan in which her scent still lingered, a few items of jewelry and her scarves.

A few months later, my father gave me her laptop. I needed a new computer and was grateful to have it. But its contents – photos from trips, a draft of her thesis from divinity school, Van Morrison albums in her iTunes – kept pulling me down rabbit holes. Whenever I sat down to do some work, I’d find myself lost in her files, searching for ways to feel close to her again.

Her computer activity was like a breadcrumb trail through her inner life: her interests, her hopes and her plans for the future, even those that would never come true.

The bookmarks in her Safari browser served as a compass on a journey into my mother’s mind. She used them like sticky notes, saving articles to return to, museum exhibitions to attend and beautiful hotels to visit. She bookmarked things like EssentialVermeer.com, a Wikipedia entry for Theological aesthetics, How to Dress Like a Parisian, and endless recommended reading lists.

As I scrolled through them, I wondered about these clues: were they hints for how I should live my life? Suggestions for places I should go? Ideas to discover? The very first bookmark was “Resources for a Spiritual Journey.” Was that a little nudge from her? I explored each site methodically, not wanting to miss a word or a photograph, just in case I overlooked something from my mom: here’s what you need to know, here’s what I really loved, here’s how much I loved you.

Of course, not all bookmarks were treasure troves. Her health insurance company, for example, and some links no longer work. One took me to the old site of the Opera National de Paris. “You are looking for something?” the 404 error message read in broken English. “Yeah, my mom,” I think. “You seen her?”

Each bookmark corresponded to a time in her life. I pinpointed when she moved to London (places to stay in Cornwall and upcoming shows at the Tate) and when I got married (my wedding website). And there, toward the end of the list, a YouTube video of Kenneth Branagh delivering the St Crispin’s Day Speech from Henry V marked when cancer entered her life: my little brother sent it to the family when her chemo began, preparing us for the battle ahead.

A month later, she sent us Mel Gibson’s “Freedom” speech from Braveheart. I clicked on the bookmark and re-watched Gibson in his blue face paint, yelling: “They may take our lives, but they may never take our freedom!” That was my mom, the William Wallace of chemo: our fearless chief, bravely leading us into a gruesome battle.

But walking in mom’s online footsteps was also like crossing a field riddled with landmines. Without warning something would trigger my grief and my heart was ripped open again. The most painful were those that came just before the cancer battle speeches, before she knew she was sick. There, plain as day, were her plans and hopes for a future she thought stretched out before her.

“15 Ideas for a Children’s Discovery Garden,” read one bookmark from not long ago. This was my mom looking for ways to make her house magical for her grandchildren. At the time she had just one, my one-year-old daughter Maeve, and I could see that being a grandmother was going to be the defining role of the rest of her life.

Recently, I stumbled upon her bookmark of a CS Lewis quote: “We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words – to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”

This is what my mom sought throughout her life, and was more successful than most at finding it. For me, the quote also evokes the day she died and how I’ve come to understand her death. She died on 15 December 2014, eight months after she was diagnosed.

The days and weeks in late November and early December that preceded my mother’s death had been dark, overcast and cold. The grim scenery seemed to reflect the sorrow and fear that had overtaken my family. I kept taking photos at twilight of the dark silhouettes of tree branches set against the purple sky.

But the day my mom died was different. I came downstairs early that morning to relieve my older brother who had kept vigil by her bed all night. I sat alone with her as sunlight flooded in through the windows, filtering through the pink orchids that lined the windowsill.

As I sat there, I remembered what my mom had told me about the day I was born. The hospital had been busy that August morning but soon after she gave birth to me, my mom and I were left in a room alone. When she told the story, she always emphasized how wonderful it was to be on our own, just the two of us, how peacefully we slept. That’s how I started my life.

And that’s how the last day of my mom’s life began: just the two of us. I held her hand and watched her labored breathing. Looking at her, I thought about how I must have slept on her chest as a baby, taking in her warmth and feeling so safe in her arms.

That afternoon, my mother took her final breath. My two brothers and I left my father sobbing next to her hospital bed, which had been set up in the living room, and sat next to each other on a bench outside, watching the day’s final rays of sunlight bathe the front yard. After days and weeks of grim winter darkness, the scenery was radiant.

I couldn’t help but think my mom had become part of the beauty around us. The light seemed more intense, the beauty more vibrant because she was there in it. I was surprised that such a feeling of peace could be felt in the midst of that horrifying loss. I still cling to it and try to revive it in my memory.

My mom’s very last bookmark is for the Phillips House at Mass General Hospital, a place where she could get medical care and maybe spend her final days. The bookmark signifies to me that it was an idea she wanted to return to – an option to consider.

But her decline accelerated so fast. She died in hospice care at her home on Martha’s Vineyard.

The next bookmark is mine. I created it eight months after she died. It just says “Life Begins,” and it’s for the program for expectant mothers at New York Methodist Hospital in Brooklyn, where my son was born 14 months after my mom died.

When I first noticed these bookmarks back-to-back it took my breath away, like I’d stumbled on an essential clue to some mystery. Sitting right there was my mom’s disappearance from the world and then my son’s miraculous entry.

I’ve kept adding my own bookmarks to my mother’s list: 99 “essential” restaurants in Brooklyn, 25 weekend getaways from New York City, places where Maeve could maybe take dance lessons. Now my daydreams and thoughts for the future are piled onto my mom’s. From my mom’s happy life to its tragic ending to me trying to figure out how to be a person in the world without her, it’s all there.

Complete Article HERE!

For a price, saying goodbye to a dying pet can be less painful

By ELINE de BRUIJN

Pet hospice3
The main purpose of the hospice care that Joanna Harchut offers is to comfort the pets, but the owners often need TLC, too.

For 14 years, Boston the Chihuahua has beaten the odds: One of his brothers was stillborn and the other was killed by an owl.

The Fort Worth pooch has lived a good life, but now his owner, Amber Weiss, is preparing for life after her “Little Old Man” — and looking into hospice care for one of her most beloved pets.

“I feel so responsible for their exit from this planet when the time comes,” Weiss said. “It was a blessing to understand what it would be like.”

Two veterinarians have established a North Texas affiliate for Lap of Love, the country’s largest network of pet hospice and in-home euthanasia services. Drs. Joanna Harchut and Erica Fry help elderly or otherwise ailing pets live their remaining days more comfortably and pass away peacefully in their homes.

Amber Weiss talks with veterinarian Joanna Harchut about hospice care for her Chihuahua Boston.
Amber Weiss talks with veterinarian Joanna Harchut about hospice care for her Chihuahua Boston.

Hospice care and techniques are best used for pets with chronic conditions. Veterinarians consult with owners, showing them how to keep pets comfortable and manage their pain. They offer tips on exercise, massage techniques, nutrition and mental stimulation.

Boston is healthy for his age but does have some mobility issues, so Weiss called Harchut for a consultation. The vet gave Weiss some ideas on how to help Boston get around the house.

“She was so soothing and patient,” Weiss said.

Harchut said some pet owners just need reassurance when it’s time to say goodbye — even when their pets seem to sense it. At the final visit, some dogs will see Harchut and get up off the floor for the first time in days, she said.

“They know when I walk in ‘she’s here to help me,’ and a lot of times they get really relaxed and come in front of me to lay down,” Harchut said. “They’re ready before we are. They know.”

Pet hospice services aren’t new, and Lap of Love is just one of a handful operating in Dallas-Fort Worth.

The process is often emotional for pet owners like Amber Weiss, who considers Boston a member of the family.
The process is often emotional for pet owners like Amber Weiss, who considers Boston a member of the family.

And the company’s service isn’t for everyone, however: The cost for one hourlong hospice appointment is $285, plus a possible travel fee to certain areas.

“I feel thankful that they found us and that they’re able to do this,” Harchut said of her clients, “because I know a lot of people aren’t financially able to do so.”

But after a single visit with Harchut, Weiss can’t imagine the alternatives.

“When she left, I thought there’s no other way,” Weiss said.

Dr. Mary Gardner founded Lap of Love in 2010 after her 13-year-old Samoyed was attacked by another dog. Snow White spent three weeks in and out of the pet hospital. Snow White never recovered, and neither did Gardner.

Boston is still healthy for his age, but at 14 years old, his mobility has suffered.
Boston is still healthy for his age, but at 14 years old, his mobility has suffered.

The Florida-based company she started now has 81 vets working in 24 states to help give families what “every pet deserves: a peaceful goodbye,” Gardner said.

“If we can make that end-of-life experience better, maybe they’ll be open to loving again,” she said. “It seems too early until it’s too late.”

Harchut said she treats every pet as if it were her own. During euthanasia visits, each pet owner reacts differently, she said. Some give their dogs big chocolate cakes, and others have family gatherings to celebrate their pet’s life.

“It sounds funny, but it’s almost like a relief that [pet owners] get to see this peaceful process,” she said. “I feel relieved that they don’t have to watch their pet suffer anymore.”

Weiss expects Boston’s inevitable passing to be every bit as painful as the death of any other family member. But she feels more prepared now.

“Being able to look ahead and know I’m making the right steps now, it’s a relief,” she said.

 Complete Article HERE!

Duck, Death and the Tulip: An Uncommonly Tender Illustrated Meditation on the Cycle of Life

“When you’re dead, the pond will be gone, too — at least for you.”001

“Death is our friend precisely because it brings us into absolute and passionate presence with all that is here, that is natural, that is love,” Rilke wrote in contemplatinghow befriending our mortality can help us feel more alive. Nearly a century later, John Updike echoed this sentiment: “Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time?” And yet however poetic this notion might be, it remains one of the hardest for us to befriend and reconcile with our irrepressible impulse for aliveness. How, then, are those only just plunging into the lush river of life to confront the prospect of its flow’s cessation?

The German children’s book author and illustrator Wolf Erlbruch offers a wonderfully warm and assuring answer in Duck, Death and the Tulip (public library) — a marvelous addition to the handful of intelligent and imaginative children’s books about death and loss.

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One day, Duck turns around to find Death standing behind her. Terrified, she asks whether he has come to take her, but he remarks rather matter-of-factly that he has been there her entire life.

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At first chilled by the notion of Death’s lifelong proximity, Duck slowly, cautiously, curiously acquaints herself with him.

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Death gave her a friendly smile.

Actually he was nice (if you forgot for a moment who he was).
Really quite nice.

With great economy of words and minimalist yet enormously expressive illustrations, Erlbruch conveys the quiet ease that develops between the two as they relax into an unlikely camaraderie.

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Duck suggests they go to the pond together, and although Death has always dreaded that, he reluctantly agrees. But the water is too much for him.

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“Are you cold?” Duck asked. “Shall I warm you a little?”
Nobody had ever offered to do that for Death.

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They awake together in the morning and Duck is overjoyed to discover that she is not dead. Here, Erlbruch injects the lightheartedness always necessary for keeping the profound from slipping into the overly sentimental:

She poked Death in the ribs. “I’m not dead!” she quacked, utterly delighted.

“I’m pleased for you,” Death said, stretching.

“And if I’d died?”

“Then I wouldn’t have been able to sleep in,” Death yawned.

That wasn’t a nice thing to say, thought Duck.

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But since any friendship is woven of “a continued, mutual forgiveness,” Duck eventually metabolizes her hurt feelings and the two find their way into a conversation about the common mythologies of the afterlife central to our human delusion of immortality:

“Some ducks say you become an angel and sit on a cloud, looking over the earth.”

“Quite possibly.” Death rose to his feet. “You have the wings already.”

“Some ducks say that deep in the earth there’s a place where you’ll be roasted if you haven’t been good.”

“You ducks come up with some amazing stories, but who knows.”

“So you don’t know either,” Duck snapped.

Death just looked at her.

Having failed to resolve the existential perplexity of nonexistence, they return to the simple satisfactions of living and decide to climb a tree.

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They could see the pond far below. There it lay. So still. And so lonely.

“That’s what it will be like when I’m dead,” Duck thought. “The pond alone, without me.”

Death sometimes read minds. “When you’re dead, the pond will be gone, too — at least for you.”

“Are you sure?” Duck was astonished.

“As sure as can be,” Death said.

“That’s a comfort. I won’t have to mourn over it when…”

“…when you’re dead.” Death finished the sentence. He wasn’t coy about the subject.

As summer winds down, the two friends visit the pond less and less, and sit quietly in the grass together more and more. When autumn arrives, Duck feels the chill in her feathers for the first time, perhaps in the way that one suddenly feels old one day — the unannounced arrival of a chilling new awareness of one’s finitude, wedged between an unredeemable yesterday and an inevitable tomorrow.

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“I’m cold,” she said one evening. “Will you warm me a little?”

Snowflakes drifted down.

Something had happened. Death looked at the duck.

She’d stopped breathing. She lay quite still.

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Stroking her disheveled feathers back into a temporary perfection, Death picks Duck up and carries her tenderly to the river, then lays her on the water and releases her into its unstoppable flow, watching wistfully as she floats away. It’s the visual counterpart to that unforgettable line from Elizabeth Alexander’s sublime memoir:“Perhaps tragedies are only tragedies in the presence of love, which confers meaning to loss.”

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For a long time he watched her.

When she was lost to sight, he was almost a little moved.

“But that’s life,” thought Death.

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As the river spills off the book and we turn to the last page, we see Death surrounded by other animals — a subtle reminder that he will escort the fox and the rabbit and you and me down the river of life, just as he did Duck. And perhaps that’s okay.

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Complement the immeasurably beautiful and poetic Duck, Death and the Tulip with the Danish masterpiece Cry, Heart, But Never Break and Oliver Jeffers’s The Heart and the Bottle, then revisit a Zen master’s explanation of death and the life-force to a child.

Complete Article HERE!

10 Myths about Palliative Care

By: CVH Team

Palliative-Care2

Palliative care is still widely misunderstood by many Canadians. Here are 10 common myths we often encounter. Help dispel these myths by sharing the facts with family members and friends, colleagues, patients and client.

1.  Myth: Palliative care hastens death.
Fact: Palliative care does not hasten death. It provides comfort and the best quality of life from diagnosis of an advanced illness until end of life.
See also: Palliative Care: Dispel the myth of hastening death

2.  Myth: Palliative care is only for people dying of cancer.
Fact: Palliative care can benefit patients and their families from the time of diagnosis of any illness that may shorten life.
See also: How do you know when someone is ready for palliative care?

3.  Myth: People in palliative care who stop eating die of starvation.
Fact: People with advanced illnesses don’t experience hunger or thirst as healthy people do. People who stop eating die of their illness, not starvation.
See also: Can you provide some guidance about oral nutrition at the end of life?

4.  Myth: Palliative care is only provided in a hospital.
Fact: Palliative care can be provided wherever the patient lives – home, long-term care facility, hospice or hospital.
See also: What is Palliative Care?

5.  Myth: We need to protect children from being exposed to death and dying.
Fact: Allowing children to talk about death and dying can help them develop healthy attitudes that can benefit them as adults. Like adults, children also need time to say goodbye to people who are important to them.
See also:  Don’t Use the ‘D’ Word: Exploring Myths about Children and Death

6.  Myth: Pain is a part of dying.
Fact: Pain is not always a part of dying. If pain is experienced near end of life, there are many ways it can be alleviated.
See also: Pain

7.  Myth: Taking pain medications in palliative care leads to addiction.
Fact: Keeping people comfortable often requires increased doses of pain medication. This is a result of tolerance to medication as the body adjusts, not addiction.
See also: Pain medication myths: Addiction and hastened death

8.  Myth: Morphine is administered to hasten death.
Fact: Appropriate doses of morphine keep patients comfortable but do not hasten death.
See also: Does morphine make death come sooner?

9.  Myth: Palliative care means my doctor has given up and there is no hope for me.
Fact: Palliative care ensures the best quality of life for those who have been diagnosed with an advanced illness. Hope becomes less about cure and more about living life as fully as possible.
See also: Health Care Decisions: An Approach to Decision Making and Advance Care Planning

10. Myth: I’ve let my family member down because he/she didn’t die at home.
Fact: Sometimes the needs of the patient exceed what can be provided at home despite best efforts. Ensuring that the best care is delivered, regardless of setting, is not a failure.

Complete Article HERE!

We think our attitudes to death are unchanging. They’re not

Death rituals such as the anglers who turned their friend’s ashes into fishing bait are nothing new. In the west, we could learn much from other cultures

By 

‘In Tana Toraja in Indonesia, they hold a festival called Ma’nene, during which they remove the bodies of favoured ancestors from their coffins and clean and dress them. Sometimes they even walk them around the village.’
‘In Tana Toraja in Indonesia, they hold a festival called Ma’nene, during which they remove the bodies of favoured ancestors from their coffins and clean and dress them. Sometimes they even walk them around the village.’

The 18th-century printer and type designer John Baskerville (he of the “Baskerville font”) was so averse to religion and its conventions that he requested that, upon his death, his body be buried upright in a specially prepared vault in an old mill on his property. In 1775, his wishes were fulfilled. In 1821, however, a canal was built locally and the mill was destroyed. The landowner at the time put Baskerville’s body on display until his descendants had it moved to a crypt in Christ Church, Birmingham. In 1897, the church was demolished and poor Baskerville’s remains were moved again, this time to the catacombs of Warstone Lane Cemetery. In 1963, a petition was put forward to the Birmingham city council that what little remained of John Baskerville be moved a fifth time to unconsecrated grounds, in keeping with his original wishes.

The petition was denied.

Baskerville wasn’t the only person in the 18th century (or indeed any century) to flout traditional death practices. Since time immemorial, people have sought alternative solutions to disposing of human remains. The news stories we see today – like the man whose ashes were turned into fishing bait and used by his friends to catch a 180lb fish – are nothing new.

Dr John Troyer, who heads the Centre for Death & Society at the University of Bath, is currently spearheading the Future Cemetery project in conjunction with Arnos Vale cemetery in Bristol. “The idea was to deliver a large-scale project that experimented with new approaches like projection, augmented reality, and Bluetooth soundscapes to engage visitors with this stunning but sensitive space.” In other words, you may someday be able to walk into a cemetery and listen to a hologram of a dead loved one speak about his or her life.

Ma’nene festival of corpses, Indonesia.
Ma’nene festival of corpses, Indonesia.

Although some people might be averse to these developments, we should remember that new technologies and death have often gone hand-in-hand in the past. For instance, postmortem photos began to emerge shortly after commercial photography itself became available in 1839, and carried on being popular into the early 20th century. Today, we might liken this to the trend among millennials to take “funeral selfies”.

The desire for alternative death practices is growing, especially among an ageing population of baby boomers who have been accustomed to having a wide range of choice in their lives.

Caitlin Doughty – mortician, writer and founder of the Order of the Good Death – educates the public about their options through her popular YouTube series, Ask a Mortician. She recently opened a new funeral parlour, Undertaking LA, which “allows families to reclaim rightful control of the dying process and care of the dead body”. The bereaved can wash and dress the bodies of their loved ones in preparation for burial. This process brings a mourner closer to death, and breaks down unwarranted fears of the dead body. “It’s what everyone did 150 years ago,” Doughty says, “and it can be a beautiful way to mourn.”

Although this type of intimacy with a corpse might seem alien to us in the west, there are many cultures around the world that have no problem interacting with the dead. Dr Paul Koudounaris – author of The Empire of Death – has travelled to more than 70 different countries and encountered countless cultures and belief systems along the way. His book features hundreds of photographs of the dead.

“In Tana Toraja [in Indonesia],” he tells me, “they periodically hold a festival called Ma’nene, during which they remove the bodies of favoured ancestors from their coffins and clean and dress them. Sometimes they even walk them around the village.” This past year, Koudounaris attended Ma’nene. After the festival was over, some villagers asked Koudounaris as an afterthought if he wanted to see their grandmother, whose dead body had been laid out in the hut next to his for the past month. “It was the casualness of it that was really striking,” he says. “In the USA, that would not be a casual situation that would slip one’s mind.”

Koudounaris rightly reminds me that we need to be careful about “treating ‘western culture’ as some homogeneous thing,” and that death rituals in westernised society can vary greatly. That said, the more intimate practices tend to come from non-western areas of the world. What Koudounaris hopes we learn from these cultures is that “the dead can still have a role in society, and that death need not be fatalistic”. Like Doughty, he hopes we can reclaim something from the past that we’ve lost: “The irony is that we once understood this in western society, we were much the same way. We forgot it over the past 200 years, and now we’re seeing a nascent movement to relearn that exact lesson.”

Ma’nene festival of corpses, Indonesia.
Ma’nene festival of corpses, Indonesia.

Back in Britain, Troyer continues to push the boundaries with the Future Cemetery project. He reminds us that: “What’s weird today is almost always normalised, forgotten about over time, rediscovered, turned into an ‘alternative’ that seems weird and then becomes normal again.”

Cremation was once considered a radical alternative to burial in Britain. The first woman cremated in this country was Honoretta Pratt in 1769. Today, approximately 75% of Britons are cremated. What will the next big thing in death be for us as we head towards the 22nd century?

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