Why You Should Consider a Death Doula

— End-of-life doulas are compassionate and knowledgeable guides who can walk with you through death and grief.

By Anna Lee Beyer

We’re all going to die, and before that, we will probably navigate the deaths of several people we love along the way.

Too dark? Discomfort with the idea of death may be the reason that people rarely talk about it, plan for it, or teach each other how to cope with it.

“Many people in our society are death phobic and do not want to talk about it,” said Marady Duran, a social worker, doula, and educator with the International End-of-Life Doula Association. “Being an end-of-life doula has been so much more than just my bedside experiences. I am able to talk with friends, family, and strangers about death and what scares them or what plans they have. Being a doula is also about educating our communities that there are many options for how end-of-life decisions can be made.”

When you or a loved one inevitably faces death, there can be an overwhelming feeling of What do I do now? What do I do with these feelings… and all this paperwork? End-of-life doulas (also called death doulas or death coaches) are compassionate and knowledgeable guides who can walk with you through death and grief.

The experience of supporting a childhood friend through her death at the age of 27 motivated Ashley Johnson, president of the National End-of-life Doula Alliance, to commit herself to this role.

“Walking alongside her during her journey, I recognized the tremendous need for education, service, and companionship for individuals and their families facing end-of-life challenges,” Johnson said. “The passing of my dear friend only solidified my commitment to this path. I saw it as my calling to extend the same level of care and support to others who were navigating the complexities of end-of-life experiences. I firmly believe that every individual deserves the dignity of a well-supported end-of-life journey, and that starts with demystifying the process, reducing fear, and helping families achieve the proper closure they need to heal.”

What to expect from a death doula

The services provided by an end-of-life doula are actually pretty varied and flexible. Much like birth doulas, they do not provide any medical care. These are some of the services Johnson said she provides in her work:

  • Advance health care planning. This might include a living will, setting up durable power of attorney for health care, and advance directive decisions. “We help individuals and their families navigate the complex process of advance healthcare planning, ensuring their wishes and choices are respected and documented,” Johnson said.
  • Practical training for family caregivers. End-of-life doulas can teach caretakers and family members how to physically care for their loved ones as they near death.
  • Companionship to patients. “We provide emotional support and companionship to patients, helping to ease their feelings of isolation and anxiety,” Johnson said.
  • Relief for family caregivers. Caring for a dying family member can be relentless, but caregivers need time to step away and care for themselves too.
  • Creating a plan for support at the patient’s time of death. A person nearing the end of their life may be comforted by many things in their environment, from the lighting, music, aromatherapy, and who’s present. A doula can help coordinate all the details.
  • Grief support. “Our role extends into the grieving process, offering support to both the dying person’s loved ones and the patient during the end-of-life journey and beyond,” Johnson said.
  • Vigil presence for actively dying patients. “We ensure that no one faces the end of life alone by being a comforting and compassionate presence during the active dying process,”Johnson said.
  • Help with planning funeral and memorial services. Planning services is a complicated task to tackle while you are likely exhausted with grief. Doulas have been through this process many times and can be a steady hand while you make decisions.

“Our aim as death doulas is to enhance the quality of life and death for all involved,” Johnson said. “We provide a range of non-medical support, fostering an environment where individuals and their loved ones can find comfort, guidance, and a sense of peace during this profound and delicate phase of life.”

When is it time to bring in a doula?

Death doulas can provide comfort and support to both the dying person and their loved ones at any stage of the process. They can step in to help before, during, or after a death.

  • At any time, before you even receive a terminal diagnosis, doulas can help you prepare emotionally and practically with planning for end-of-life wishes, advance care planning, and creating a supportive environment.
  • During the end-of-life phase, doulas are more present to offer emotional, spiritual and practical support. They may be available weekly or daily, as needed.
  • After death, doula services continue for the family of the deceased.

“There really is no timeline for grief,” Duran said. “Some will want to meet one or two times after the death, and some do not want to do grief work at all. It is a personal journey, and some people may take years to do the work.”

Support for an unexpected death

Not all deaths come with an advanced warning or time to prepare and plan. Even in the case of an unexpected death, an end-of-life doula can help you handle practical details and process grief. They can:

  • Provide emotional support
  • Help you understand the grief process
  • Teach you coping strategies
  • Help with arrangements, legal, and financial matters
  • Help you create meaningful memorial rituals to honor the deceased
  • Provide connection and community
  • Listen and validate your feelings
  • Provide long-term support

“My mentor Ocean Phillips, who is also a doula, always reminds me that ‘grief is another form of love,’” Duran said. “Grief gets a bad rap, and many people do not want to feel grief, but it can be transformative for many who experience it. People who go through an unexpected death of a loved one may feel guilt—‘If only I…I could have…’ The doula can hold space for them and allow them to share that. We can never fix or change, but we can stand with them and provide loving kindness along the way.”

Other professionals to help you navigate a death

Death doulas work in conjunction with many other professionals, including healthcare workers and hospice staff, to help families go through the process of death and all that follows.

“The whole team has a piece in being able to connect with those navigating grief and death. I always recognize that I am just one small part of the larger community that will help support those facing death and loss,” Duran said.

These are a few other professionals you might want to reach out to when facing the death of a loved one:

Complete Article HERE!

Islamic Burial Rites

— How These Women Are Making a Change in US

Ramla Shaikh works with a local funeral home in Avon, Connecticut, to assist with Muslim burials.

Most funeral homes don’t know how to bury Muslims but a group of Muslim women seek to introduce a change.

By

More than a dozen women watch closely as Ida Khalil measures the length of the mannequin lying on the white table in front of her, stretching the palm of her hand and moving up from the figure’s toes to its head, HuffPost reported on Sunday.

She then measures and cuts the white shroud, the garment in which Muslims are wrapped when they are buried — three pieces of cloth for men and five for women. Muslims traditionally aren’t buried in caskets, a practice connected to the belief that everyone is equal in death and no one takes along any of the possessions, status or wealth they may have accumulated in life.

Khalil’s voice, confident and clear, reverberates in the room as she explains the rituals of how to wash and wrap a body according to the Islamic tradition. She wears blue medical gloves and a medical apron over her long black abaya, a loose garment worn by Muslim women, that she paired with a keffiyeh-print hijab. Behind her are the Palestinian and American flags, representing the large Palestinian American community in the town.

The women in the audience tilt their heads with Khalil’s every move, some taking detailed notes, others recording the demonstration on their phones. Some of the women came alone, while others came in pairs, including mothers and daughters. The women ― some in their early 20s, others in their 80s, and still others of every age in between ― sit in neat rows of folding chairs at this cultural center, their jackets hanging off the backs of seats. The sun sets, and a chilly fall wind hits the doors.

Khalil is here because she believes it’s critical for the next generation of Muslim women to learn how to wash bodies. Otherwise, she worries, the tradition may be forgotten. In Islam, death is seen not as an end but rather as a transition from one lifetime to another. It’s not a taboo subject, and Muslims are encouraged to prepare for death to come at any moment, including by learning the related traditions, rituals and spiritual elements through the Islamic faith.

Despite this, many women in the U.S. are too afraid of touching a body to learn how to prepare for their loved ones’ deaths until it’s too late, Khalil said.

“They don’t get that this is incredibly important,” she told HuffPost.

‘You’re Putting Them To Peace’

Islam, like many other religions, sets out a specific process for what should happen to a person’s body after they die. The body must be washed and not embalmed, then buried quickly, usually within 24 hours.

Men are usually washed by men, and women by women. There are a few exceptions made for relatives such as parents and children. The Islamic faith outlines the protocols for preparing the body, including washing it (starting with the right side), braiding the hair, perfuming the body and wrapping it in cotton.

Above all, there is an emphasis on dignifying the deceased. Those who wash are forbidden from relating the details of a body, and the process is meant to occur in silence. Muslims believe that washing, burying and praying for the dead are a collective duty. When a member of the community passes, all are encouraged to participate in funeral prayers and send condolences to the family.

Khalil, now 57, first learned to wash a body when she was 44.

“I said fine, let me take the class. But I’ll never do this. I’m afraid of dead people,” she said, recalling when two women came to the mosque she attended to teach others how to carry out the process.

A few months later, Khalil’s mother reached out. Her sister-in-law had died, and she wanted Khalil to wash her.

Khalil was hesitant, but she didn’t want to reject her mother’s request. She showed up to the mosque, accompanied by two other women. The room was silent and Khalil found herself washing her aunt’s body without concern. She thought she’d have trouble sleeping that night, but she slept well, knowing she could honor her mother and aunt.
Thirteen years later, Khalil has washed more than a hundred women at three mosques across New Jersey.

“I used to be afraid of dead people,” she said. “Now I could sleep next to dead people.”

Islamic Burial Rites: How These Women Are Making a Change in US
Ida Khalil demonstrates how to wash and prepare a body for burial at Beit Anan Community Center in Paterson, New Jersey, Oct. 22.

Some washes are harder than others. Khalil recalls washing and preparing the body of a 5-month-old fetus that did not make it to term. She also recalls washing the body of a domestic violence victim who was punctured with stab wounds.

At the cultural center where Khalil taught her class, she demonstrated the Islamic pre-ritual wash conducted before prayers, washing between the mannequin’s fingers, face and feet up to the ankles. She used warm water, as she always does. She told her audience that she tells the families of the deceased to bring their loved one’s favorite soaps and shampoos.

Khalil told the women in the class to think about themselves and treat the body as they would want to be treated.

“It’s their last bath,” she told her audience. “Picture yourself.”

Some women asked if nail polish and piercings should be removed. Yes, Khalil said. The majority of women said it was their first time taking Khalil’s class, though some said they’d taken one before.

Naemeh Asfour, 25, attended Khalil’s class with her mother. It was her first time. Asfour and her mother had promised that whoever died first would wash the other.

“Everyone’s a little scared seeing someone dead, or seeing someone you love in that position,” she said. “But in reality, it’s very peaceful when you think about it. You’re giving someone that final bath and you’re putting them to peace.”

‘We’ll Have To Step Up’

In Muslim-majority countries, funeral homes abide by the burial customs of the faith, a process that emphasizes minimalism. After the bodies are washed and wrapped with the white shroud, the deceased are buried facing toward Mecca, the city Muslims face to pray.

But many funeral homes in the U.S. aren’t aware of Islamic traditions, or well equipped to carry them out.

Ramla Shaikh recognized this immediately after moving to the U.S. in 1987. She noticed that the majority of funeral homes embalmed their dead ― the process of preserving a corpse by treating it with chemicals, which is forbidden by the Islamic faith ― or cremated them.

Islamic Burial Rites: How These Women Are Making a Change in US
Khalil giving a demonstration at Beit Anan Community Center, Oct. 22.

So Shaikh, who lives in Avon, Connecticut, now collaborates with a local funeral home when someone in the area’s Muslim community dies. If the body of a Muslim person is brought to the funeral home, they call Shaikh to make sure a Muslim, sometimes Shaikh herself, washes the body.

Shaikh has also negotiated prices with the funeral home on the mosque’s behalf. Traditional services, which include embalming and holding a body for an extended period of time, cost approximately $10,000. But since Muslims prohibit embalming and bury their dead within 24 hours of their passing, Shaikh was able to reduce that cost to just $3,000. (The process is often paid for by social services in Muslim-majority countries, but in the U.S., people from a community band together to cover the costs. Shaikh’s mosque will help families cover expenses if they can’t afford them.)

“If somebody passes away in this country, a Muslim woman or a man, there isn’t a service or aren’t any professionals who can do it here like for the Christians, Jews, or other religions,” she said. “We don’t have that, so we’ll have to step up and do it for our own.”
Shaikh has created a WhatsApp group to coordinate whenever someone in the community dies. She’s been able to help people all over the state.

Islamic Burial Rites: How These Women Are Making a Change in US
Audience members observe Khalil’s demonstration.

Shaikh first washed a body in 2004, when her mother died. She has since washed many more, including those of her mother-in-law and friends of friends, and she persuades other women to get involved with the practice.

“I needed to teach other people so when it comes my time, and I go, somebody will be there to wash me,” she said.

Safwan Shaikh ― the imam at Ramla’s mosque, and no relation to her ― said his community is grateful to have Ramla to streamline the washing and shrouding for their members. Not all mosques are as organized, and the imam said those mosque administrators need to uphold their obligations to the community. In addition to offering religious guidance to the body washers, Safwan ensures that families of the deceased have access to the mosque’s resources, including a memorial service and assistance with expenses.

“It’s something that’s a necessity,” Safwan said, “and I can’t imagine the community not having these for both men and women.”

The mosque had a women’s washing team, headed by Ramla, before there was one for men.

“Muslim women have a lot of rights and responsibilities,” she said. “They are portrayed in front of the world that they are oppressed, but they are leaders in every way.”

Back in Paterson, Khalil hasn’t taken a penny for her work. She never plans to.

“I would do it [for free], even if I’m poor and I have nothing to eat and I have to beg,” Khalil said.

She said the experience has been life-changing. It’s made her reflect on the shortness of life and her purpose in this world. Her demeanor fluctuates between patience and a somber acceptance, as she’s no longer stressing over the small mishaps in life.

She’s silent when she attends funerals and burials, and demands the same from those around her. A few weeks ago, she scolded funeral attendees who were being disruptive and making unnecessary small talk. Respecting the deceased means acknowledging what is to come, for her and for everyone else in that room.

“We’re all going to be in this position,” Khalil said. “It’s a part of life.”

Complete Article HERE!

Common Funeral Flower Etiquette Questions

When tragedy strikes and a life comes to its close, the world slows for a moment. Condolence flowers stand as a testament to that pause, a way of expressing our love, respect, and sympathy for the departed. They capture the transient beauty of life, the memories that remain behind, and the universal fragility we all share. This age-old gesture has its own unique tapestry of traditions and etiquettes. Let’s explore this further by weaving through uncommon perspectives.

The Tale of Two Cultures: East Meets West in Flower Etiquette

In the West, chrysanthemums, carnations, and roses are often presented as tokens of respect. Their colors, especially white and light shades, are symbolic of peace, purity, and remembrance. However, traverse to the East, particularly in countries like Japan, and chrysanthemums take on a more solemn note, specifically tied to death and are exclusively used for funerals.

Likewise, in some parts of Asia, the color white is deeply associated with mourning, whereas in the West, white flowers can symbolize innocence and purity. This brings to light the vast mosaic of cultural beliefs and practices associated with funeral flowers.

Beyond Petals: The Silent Language of Flowers

Each flower speaks a silent language, and the Victorians were adept at reading these floral messages. In a time when words of emotion were restrained, flowers did the speaking. For instance, a lily conveyed the message, “my thoughts are with you”, while forget-me-nots whispered of memories and remembrance.

Considering this, sending flowers becomes more than just a gesture. It becomes a silent conversation, a way to communicate grief, hope, and everlasting love without uttering a single word.

Exceptions in Elegy: When Flowers Might Not Speak Right

While flowers are accepted and appreciated in most cultures and religions, it is important to tread with care and respect. As mentioned, those of the Jewish faith might prefer not to receive flowers during mourning. Instead, acts of charity or food might be a more appreciated gesture.

Additionally, for some Buddhist funerals, sending white flowers is the most appropriate gesture, as they symbolize sorrow and mourning. Conversely, red flowers, usually signifying happiness and celebration in many cultures, are considered inauspicious.

It’s a gentle reminder that in our intent to comfort, it’s essential to be sensitive to the cultural and religious backgrounds of the bereaved. The golden rule? When in doubt, always check with the place of worship or funeral home.

The Extra Mile: Personalizing Floral Tributes

Consider a situation where an ardent lover of literature departs. In remembrance, you might send a bouquet accompanied by a bookmark or a quote from their favorite book. This personal touch elevates the gesture from a mere tradition to a heartfelt memory.

Similarly, understanding the deceased’s passions or hobbies can guide a more personalized tribute. A gardener might be remembered with a pot of blooming roses or a bird-lover with a floral arrangement shaped like a bird.

Concluding Blooms

To wrap our exploration, remember that flowers are more than just a customary tribute. They are a medium of expression, a way to weave stories, and an emblem of life’s transient beauty. In moments of loss, they silently whisper love, remembrance, and hope.

So, as you stand by the blooms in a shop, think not just of tradition but of tales, emotions, and memories. Think of the language each petal speaks and the comfort it can bring to a grieving heart. After all, in moments of silence, it’s often the flowers that speak the loudest.

Complete Article HERE!

‘People didn’t realise a funeral could be so beautiful’

— Poland finds a new way to celebrate life – and death

Mourner Malgorzata (right) thanks celebrant Emilia Mandes for a perfect funeral: ‘Maybe I’ll go on such a journey myself …’

More and more Poles are turning away from traditional funeral rites. But what can replace them? Enter the Institute for the Good Death, grief doulas, ‘death cafes’ and music by Whitney Houston

By Katarzyna Piasecka

“Then, feeling really sorry for himself, he exclaimed: ‘There is fucking nobody to help me,’” reads Emilia Mandes, and the crowd bursts into laughter. They look at each other, nodding – this story has already become a family legend. But this is not an anecdote about a drunk uncle at a wedding. I am at a funeral: a special ceremony to say goodbye to Jan Ledwoń, who died in October at the age of 74.

Despite taking place in Elbląg, a medium-sized city in the north of Poland, it doesn’t feel like a typical Polish funeral. Instead of wreaths, people have made donations to a local animal shelter; instead of dirges, Leonard Cohen’s Tonight Will Be Fine is playing; and instead of a formally robed and solemn priest, there is Mandes, a professional celebrant, dressed modestly in black, and hugging the family and friends.

We are in a humble chapel next to the cemetery, with about 30 mourners, including Ledwoń’s daughter Kasia, who reached out to Mandes and organised most of the funeral. The chapel has allowed only half an hour for this farewell, but it is enough time for Mandes to deliver an emotional and moving speech about Ledwoń. As well as honouring his coarse language and crisp sense of humour, it reveals things that his friends weren’t aware of – that his parents wanted him to become a priest, for instance. Or that, when his father died, he promised his mother that he would replace him.

Such a ceremony is still a rarity in Poland, a predominantly Catholic country, in which the church has monopolised the celebration of most rites of passage. Although fewer and fewer Poles participate in religious rituals, they are still reluctant to give up traditional church ceremonies such as funerals or children’s baptisms. But recent years have brought changes: the Catholic church is in crisis and many Poles are turning to non-religious forms of spirituality, and as in other countries, there is now a growing “death positive” movement.

“The first ceremony I officiated at was the funeral of my husband. He died by suicide,” says Mandes, 47. “I wanted to respect his wish, in his final letter to me, to disappear unnoticed and avoid the ‘church circus’. Moreover, both of us left the institution a long time ago and our children are not connected with the church either.”

Mourners escort Jan Ledwoń’s ashes to the grave in Elbląg, northern Poland.
Mourners escort Jan Ledwoń’s ashes to the grave in Elbląg, northern Poland.

Mandes explains that her husband had depression, which he refused to acknowledge. It eroded their marriage and she decided to move on. “And then he decided to move on, as well,” she says. Two weeks spent with her husband in hospital in a coma gave Mandes time to think about how to organise his funeral. It was winter 2021, in the middle of the Covid lockdowns, so she had to negotiate limitations. But the main question was, if not a priest, then who would officiate at the ceremony? “I Googled Polish secular celebrants and knew my husband would haunt me if I hired one of them. They were more like celebrities than celebrants,” she says. “So, I decided to do it myself.”

A former audiobook reader with some acting experience, she harnessed her writing skills to concoct a unique speech for her husband, and her acting skills to deliver it. She even used the occasion to raise awareness about depression. “Afterwards, people commented that they hadn’t realised a funeral could be so beautiful, so personal. Some time later, a friend told me that being a celebrant could be a profession and this is how I got to know the Institute of the Good Death,” she recalls.

Anja Franczak, 39, founded the Institute of the Good Death in 2020, after losing a child in 2015 and realising that society offered few tools to cope with the grief. She then discovered the roles of grief doula, end-of-life doula and celebrant, and trained in all three in Germany. “Doula” comes from the Greek word for “a woman who serves”, and is popularly associated with birth doulas, who help mothers navigate the beginnings of life. But the need for assistance with end-of-life matters has become more and more salient.

A grief doula is a non-medical professional who supports individuals or families experiencing loss. They help them to come to terms with death, navigate emotions arising from grief, and deal with practical issues, such as fulfilling the deceased person’s will. An end-of-life doula, in turn, guides a dying person through the process of passing and supports those important to them. Like a grief doula, they also help people come to terms with death, and deal with administrative issues such as planning a funeral. They also help communities recognise death as a natural and important part of life. A celebrant complements the doulas, supporting mourners and organising a farewell ceremony that honours the departed person.

End-of-life doulas Katarzyna Boni, Anja Franczak and Magdalena Siwecka (left to right), about to start a workshop on the circle of grief.
End-of-life doulas Katarzyna Boni, Anja Franczak and Magdalena Siwecka (left to right), about to start a workshop on the circle of grief.

While training, Franczak started sharing the experience on her blog and received a lot of reactions from people who were fascinated by this new, fear-free approach to dying. Death is a taboo subject in Poland, as it is in many countries. According to research, 33% of Poles don’t think about it at all, and 27% very rarely.

“I don’t avoid death: on the contrary, I seek contact with it. My perspective on life has changed,” Franczak wrote on her blog. “I want to talk about life with the knowledge that we’re all going to die. I believe that this awareness offers us a chance to live an intense life in line with our values, to open up to a deep experience of being human and to have relationships full of respect, acceptance and love.”

Together with like-minded people she met along the way, Franczak created a grassroots collective that morphed into the Institute of the Good Death. Today, it has more than 100 members, including professionals from the funeral industry, experts in medicine and palliative care, psychologists, journalists, scientists and artists. They organise courses, lectures, meetings and events such as “death cafes”, informal open meetings during which people can talk about loss and grief.

Their aim is to foster conversation and education about end of life, death and grief in a sensitive and supportive way. The institute also aspires to transform the culture from one in which death is absent or censored into one that draws from transience for our benefit, to enrich and enliven us. “We want to empower people to keep each other company in life and in death,” says Franzcak. “To raise awareness that we do not necessarily have to outsource all things concerning dying to institutions. We can deal with many things ourselves.”

The institute does not oppose the church or tradition, she stresses: “Many Poles value these religious, Catholic rites. We are open to collaboration with priests.”

One notable aspect of the institute is that it attracts mainly women; few men have participated in courses or events. “Maybe it’s because, for some reason, topics of life and death, childbirth and dying are closer to women,” says Franczak. Mandes suggests it might also be down to a difference in socialisation between men and women, “and the fact that what we do at the institute is perceived as care work, historically associated with women”.

Emilia Mandes conducts the humanist funeral ceremony of Jan Ledwoń.
Emilia Mandes conducts the humanist funeral ceremony of Jan Ledwoń.

Back in Elbląg, after the ceremony, Mandes invites mourners to the cemetery, where Ledwoń’s ashes will be returned to the soil. “He chose the forest as a place to say goodbye to this world. It leaves us in pain. If you feel that you want to tell him something, recall some memory, thank him for something, get angry about something, forgive him for something, you may express it with a metaphorical letter in the form of an autumn leaf,” she says.

As orange and red leaves fall on to Ledwoń’s grave, Mandes plays one of his favourite songs, Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You. This is the saddest moment of the funeral and Ledwoń’s widow, Magda, bursts into tears, hugging her husband’s photo in her arms. “You may now get closer to the family and hug them,” encourages Mandes, and the crowd clings together, forming a swinging mass.

“It is one of these rare experiences that really unite people,” Mandes says later. “It’s incredible how we are able to bond when we stand together in the face of death. It is above all divisions, all polarisation.”

A few days earlier, on 1 November, it was All Souls’ Day, a day when Poles do commune with the dead. On this day, Polish cities are typically deserted, but the cemeteries are bursting with life. Trains and motorways all over the country fill up with those travelling to visit the graves of the departed, and necropolises are covered in flowers and flickering candles. It is a time reserved for family and friends, and for remembering those who have died.

The Wind Phone Booth, where mourners can ‘communicate’ with those who have died.
The Wind Phone Booth, where mourners can ‘communicate’ with those who have died.

As dusk falls, Warsaw’s historic Powązki cemetery becomes as busy as an airport. People who have come to visit graves mingle with those collecting money for charity, and vendors of candles and chrysanthemums. The place is dotted with booths housing priests selling commemorative masses.

But Mandes is not there. “I’m not going to the cemetery today,” she told me. “I don’t like crowds and I want to show my children that a connection with the dead is not limited to one day in the year.” Instead, across the city from Powązki cemetery, in the Osiedle Jazdów – a cultural commune housed in tiny houses in the centre of Warsaw – she is preparing an “open grief ritual” organised by the institute. This small ceremony is aimed at helping people honour and remember the deceased and engage in the process of letting go. Wading through autumn leaves in a small public square, Mandes and two other celebrants place lit candles in various corners and set up a microphone. A dozen participants observe them curiously. Some of them use the Wind Phone Booth, an imitation phone box installed by the institute in May 2022, where mourners can “communicate” with those who have died (the line is not connected to anything).

“I will give each of you a ribbon. It will be your bridge to your departed person and will let you connect with them,” says one of the celebrants, and divides the group into small circles. After a moment of awkward silence, each of the circles starts resounding with words, and soon with sobbing. “I wanted to thank you for being such a great auntie …”, “I wanted to say sorry that you couldn’t die in your beloved flat …” As the stream of words intensifies, I cannot believe that these people are able to show such vulnerability despite being complete strangers.

Mistress of ceremony Dominika Galza offers blue ribbons as a symbol of connecting with a loved one who has passed away.
Mistress of ceremony Dominika Gauza offers blue ribbons as a symbol of connecting with a loved one who has passed away.

“I came here exactly for that,” says Monika, 44. “I am not ashamed – I want to cry among strangers.” She explains that she knew about the ritual from social media. “It is a relief to discuss emotions concerning death and grief that in Poland have been suppressed for years,” she adds.

The ritual led by Mandes and her fellow celebrants is vaguely reminiscent of the pre-Christian Slavic rite of Dziady (Forefathers’ Eve). This “communion of the living with the dead” involved gathering in houses to feed wandering souls with honey, barley, eggs and vodka. It was an occasion to share grief with the living and talk to the dead.

At the end of Ledwoń’s funeral, as his sister-in-law Marzena and her husband Jerzy say their goodbyes, I ask them what they thought of the ceremony. “I loved it,” says Jerzy. “I’m enrolling my name in Emilia’s agenda.”

“Not so fast,” says Marzena. “You still have a couple of dozen years to live.”

Complete Article HERE!

Philly’s deathcare enthusiasts want to bring back the shroud

— The idea that death and dying can be part of life, not handled by walled-off specialists in expensive facilities, has gained traction in recent years.

Attendees of a recent shrouding workshop practice on a volunteer, led by Pat Quigley, right, the supervisor of Laurel Hill funeral home.

By Zoe Greenberg

In a high-ceilinged, brick-walled space in Northern Liberties where people often host weddings, a group of strangers gathered on a recent Sunday to prepare for death.

They had come to learn how to shroud, part of a growing “death-positive” movement in Philly that seeks to demystify and de-commercialize the end of life. Many had been drawn to the hands-on workshop by fliers posted around the city that read, in part, “Yes, you heard that right! ‘Shroud’ as in wrapping a dead body for burial.”

Hosted at the MAAS building, the free event promised a shrouding demonstration (”on a live human”). It also served as the first meeting of a nascent “deathcare volunteer group,” which has aims to help Philadelphians who cannot afford funeral costs prepare and bury their loved ones. The median cost of funeral followed by burial in the mid-Atlantic region was $8,093 in 2021, according to the National Funeral Directors Association — a hefty sum for many families.

Pat Quigley, center and funeral director at Laurel Hill cemetery, teaches attendees how to shroud a dead body at a recent workshop in Northern Liberties. Kim Schmucki, on the table, volunteered to be practiced on.
Pat Quigley, center and funeral director at Laurel Hill cemetery, teaches attendees how to shroud a dead body at a recent workshop in Northern Liberties. Kim Schmucki, on the table, volunteered to be practiced on.

“I really want Philadelphia to be a death-positive hub on the East Coast,” said Isabel Knight, 29, the president of the National Home Funeral Alliance and the workshop’s organizer. In her vision, the grassroots group will wash and shroud the dead for free, and perhaps even transport bodies, in personal vehicles with burial permits, to cemeteries, Knight said.

Of actual burial or cremation, “That’s something that you’ve got to pay for, unfortunately,” she said.

The idea that death and dying can be part of life, not handled by walled-off specialists in expensive facilities, has gained traction in recent years. And the attendees at the shrouding workshop were not, on the whole, new to death — they included death doulas, a hospice music therapy worker, and a former palliative care doctor.

It was a practical meeting, but also something of a pep rally for people whose passion may not be the most popular at cocktail parties.

“I do a meditation where I visualize dying — and sometimes being cared for, and sometimes just being kind of abandoned on a cliff and decomposing,” said Natalia Stroika, 38, of South Philly, explaining to the group why she had come. “I got a lot of wisdom from that.”

Another attendee, a West Philly resident who goes by the name Ask Nicely, explained that he was in the process of growing flax in a burial ground in Upper Darby “so that I can learn to process it into fiber and then weave my own death shroud,” a comment that elicited an appreciative murmur from the crowd.

Many Jewish communities already have a volunteer burial society, or chevra kadisha, to ritually wash and prepare the dead for burial. Knight’s deathcare group will be for all religions, and particularly for those who cannot afford the high costs of the modern funeral.

Attendees of a free shrouding workshop practice wrapping a volunteer in a sheet.
Attendees of a free shrouding workshop practice wrapping a volunteer in a sheet.

Pat Quigley, 66, the supervisor of Laurel Hill funeral home and a member of the Reconstructionist Chevra Kadisha, or Jewish burial society, served as the shrouding instructor. She first reassured the group on two fronts: dead bodies do not immediately become too stiff to handle, and they do not instantly decompose.

Next was the practical matter of what to do. Everyone crowded around a pale green massage table at the front of the room; Kim Schmucki, 60, removed her shoes, revealing multicolored striped socks, and lay on the table, pretending to be dead. The group used a white linen-cotton shroud made by California company Kinkaraco, which Laurel Hill sells for roughly $900. Kinkaraco makes shrouds for a “green burial,” which means that everything about the body, the clothes, and the casket (if there is one) is biodegradable.

“Obviously we’re not going to suffocate Kim,” Quigley said, showing attendees how to roll her over and pull the shroud around her, but declining to pull it over her face. She offered a few “nifty little tricks” to keep eyes and mouths closed, advised attendees to support the head during the process, and showed the group how to tie the shroud tightly around the feet, waist, and upper body.

After the main demonstration, participants broke into smaller groups to try themselves. On the floor, a group carefully wrapped their volunteer corpse in a pale green sheet and rolled her back and forth, tied up with a bow.

“The whole death experience, like the whole birth experience, has become so medicalized and so sanitized,” said Quigley. “I think people just want something different.”

Complete Article HERE!

I tried to bury my mom in an environmentally responsible way in L.A.

— It was impossible

A cemetery plot designated for green burial in Cherokee Township Cemetery near North San Juan, Calif.

By Paul Thornton

To get a sense of how progressive ideals don’t always reflect actual practice, try burying a dead relative in Southern California. You’ll find that even in this land where people talk about sustainability, saying farewell in an environmentally responsible manner is, for most people, nearly impossible.

I came to grips with that reality in August, when my mother died from an unexpected illness. Making the final arrangements was my job, and I valued the experience as much as one can while gripped by grief.

My mother, a nurse and devout Lutheran, spent her life caring for the world around her and the people whom Jesus called “the least of these brothers and sisters.” I felt strongly that her remains should be handled in a way that reflected her values and, to some extent, mine.

As funeral director and poet Thomas Lynch wrote, “By getting the dead where they need to go, the living get where they need to be.”

And where are the living? On a planet in serious peril, where resource- and land-intensive burial practices reflect the overconsumption that put us in this mess. So, in the days just before my mom’s death, and with the clock ticking fast, I explored “green burial” options in Southern California that minimize environmental impacts.

That involved ditching the local (and very expensive) mortuary giant Forest Lawn — where seemingly everyone in Glendale, my mom’s hometown, goes to spend eternity — and calling smaller funeral homes that advertise eco-friendly options.

I settled on a small business in Hollywood that partners with a natural burial cemetery — where the land is minimally disturbed and traditional embalming isn’t allowed — and even offers an intriguing “human composting” option. Crucially, prices for the most common services are listed prominently on the funeral home’s website (note to other mortuaries: Please do this).

But the eco-friendly options had serious drawbacks. The natural burial cemetery is near Joshua Tree (gorgeous, but 120 miles away), and human composting — a process that accelerates decomposition and, within a month, turns a body into nutrient-dense soil — isn’t yet legal in California and would have required shipping my dead mother to Washington state.

Burial options that require two-hour flights or three-hour car drives don’t strike me as green. Even in this era of heightened environmental consciousness, the most accessible disposal options are not the sustainable ones. Our final choice: local cremation.

Still, the future for handling the dead in an environmentally sound way isn’t totally dim. Last year, California passed a law to allow human composting starting in 2027. And, although there are only two fully natural burial grounds certified by the Green Burial Council in all of California (none of them near Los Angeles), more “traditional” cemeteries are offering some environmentally friendly options.

Sarah Chavez, executive director of the L.A.-based advocacy group the Order of the Good Death, told me these cemeteries and California lawmakers are responding to an increasing demand for burials that not only conserve resources, but are also more meaningful to the people seeking them.

She said the $20-billion U.S. funeral industry has commodified death in a way that has made people scared of their dead loved ones, convinced that only trained, very expensive professionals must take over the moment a relative dies.

I told Chavez my family resisted this routine, even if we didn’t get a green burial. The funeral home accommodated our request to sit with my mom for several hours before it sent workers to pick her up. In that time, the few of us there had a mini-funeral.

We alternated between tears, laughter and prayers, all while my mom was there with us. Her body was not hazardous waste to be swiftly disposed of.

Chavez said our experience reflects a grassroots change in death services. Her group supports families taking a more active role in burials. She said many people entering the funeral industry now are women who recognize the need for change, which I noticed in making my arrangements as well.

From this desire for more control, we’ll get more green burial options in the future. Just not in time for my mom.

Complete Article HERE!

How a Colorado Funeral Parlor Became Home to 189 Decaying Bodies

Wooden caskets lined up at a funeral home. A Colorado funeral parlor has become home to 189 decaying bodies.

By

A “green” funeral home in Colorado has found itself in trouble this week after 189 decaying human bodies were found on the premises.

The corpses, which were emitting an “abhorrent smell”, had initially been thought to number 115 when the Return to Nature Funeral Home storage facility in Penrose, Colorado, was first investigated by authorities two weeks ago.

Now, as of Tuesday, 189 bodies have been removed from the site, but authorities have said that numbers could change once again as the process of identifying the bodies continues.

Return to Nature Funeral Home is a so-called “green” funeral home, which holds burial services without the use of embalming fluids to preserve the bodies. There have been no arrests or charges so far, and Newsweek has contacted Return to Nature for comment via Instagram.

The bodies left to decay are now being identified by an FBI team usually deployed for mass casualties such as plane crashes. Around 120 families are worried that their relatives could be among the remains, but it will be weeks until identification of the bodies is completed, using fingerprints, dental records, and DNA testing.

It is perfectly legal not to embalm a body in Colorado and most other states, but the cadaver must be refrigerated. Colorado law specifically states: “A funeral establishment shall embalm, refrigerate, cremate, bury, or entomb human remains within twenty-four hours after taking custody of the remains.”

“Embalming is not required in any state, except in very limited circumstances,” Tanya D. Marsh, a professor of law at Wake Forest University and a licensed funeral director, told Newsweek. “The Colorado funeral home was required to either dispose of the bodies within 24 hours or refrigerate or embalm them. Violation of this is a class 1 misdemeanor in Colorado, which carries a maximum penalty of 364 days imprisonment, not more than a $1,000 fine, or both.

“In addition to criminal liability, this funeral home also faces tort liability from the families of the deceased for ‘interference with the right of sepulcher’,” Marsh said.

Additionally, Colorado has fairly lax rules regarding funeral homes, with operators requiring no routine inspections or qualifications.

The reasons why this funeral home did not manage to refrigerate its bodies is still unclear. However, the owners of the Return to Nature Funeral Home had reportedly missed tax payments in recent months, and were being sued for unpaid bills. They had also been recently evicted from one of their properties.

“We’ll find out more facts as the case unfolds, but my guess in Colorado is that the funeral home either lost its contract with a crematory, or there was some other problem. They started to get a backlog of cases, and it just got out of hand,” Marsh said. “It is really indefensible, but unfortunately not the first time it has happened.

“For example, in the Tri-State Crematory case in 2002, a crematory in Georgia was found to have more than 300 bodies that it had failed to cremate and that were kept on the property in various states of decay. There were also a number of cases of funeral homes with an excess of remains during the worst of the COVID-19 crisis in New York City, and some of those funeral homes did not properly store those bodies,” Marsh added.

The reason for this tragedy is not because of the funeral home’s “green” practices, but instead due to the mishandling of the bodies.

“To be clear, the reason this happened is not because this was a green funeral home. I really think it is important to emphasize this. It is because it was a funeral home that did not follow the most basic rules of care for human remains,” Marsh said.

Green funerals don’t embalm the bodies to avoid transferring harsh preservative chemicals into the ground, and bury people inside more-biodegradable caskets.

“Green funeral companies seek to reduce the amount of chemicals that are put in the soil by using coffins made from untreated materials; wicker is popular in the U.K. They do not embalm as this avoids the embalming chemicals such as formaldehyde and so on. As a result, decomposition occurs more naturally and is quicker and more complete,” Stephen Hughes, a senior lecturer in medicine at the Anglia Ruskin University School of Medicine in the U.K., told Newsweek.

Usually, in place of embalming, a body must be refrigerated to prevent decay. However, it appears that the bodies at Return to Nature Funeral Home were improperly stored. Without being kept cool, a body rapidly starts to break down.

“The decomposition process begins immediately after death,” Mark T. Evely, director of the Mortuary Science Program at Wayne State University, Michigan, told Newsweek. “The rate of decomposition depends on environmental conditions such as temperature, humidity, the setting in which the remains are located, and the physical conditions of the deceased prior to death.”

Other experts worry that this may mar the reputation of mortuary services and green funerals alike, sparking distrust of the practice.

“A great amount of trust is placed in funeral homes by families to care for their loved ones. When that trust is violated, it casts suspicion on the entire funeral profession,” Evely said. “I don’t know the reasons why there would be remains found in the way they were at the funeral home in Colorado. What I can say is that someone failed the families of these loved ones and failed to comply with the legal requirements of the state and the ethical duties demanded by the funeral service profession.”

This case raises the need for contingency plans for funerary providers in the event they are no longer financially viable, or that something goes wrong, Kate Woodthorpe, director of the U.K. Centre for Death and Society, told Newsweek.

“We have the same issue in the U.K. with regard to protecting the buried dead: When cemeteries are no longer income generating or financially viable, what happens? As an island running out of space, this is a critical question that no one has really answered in terms of who is responsible for their maintenance and long-term upkeep,” Woodthorpe said. “It also raises questions about the need for oversight and regulation of ‘green’ above-ground disposal methods. Unlike cremation (over quickly) or burial (contained underground), this third method needs greater surveillance, given the consequences in the event of a company going bust, or a generator failing and so on.”

As the remains continue to be identified, the bereaved families will have to wait for the dreaded news that one of their relatives’ bodies was included in the tragedy.

“In this situation, they may feel guilty that they have made such a disastrous choice of funeral home,” Dr. John Wilson, director of bereavement services counseling at York St John University, northern England, told Newsweek. “Guilt is a complicator of grief, and these relatives may need professional counseling to overcome this. On top of that, they may be traumatized by press reports, and by imagining the scene at the care home, adding to the sense of having let down their lost loved one.

“Anger is a natural feature of grief, so there will be many relatives who are angry to the point of it being potentially unhealthy,” Wilson added. “Given that the number of close mourners for every death averages between five and 10 people, that is going to be a lot of people who could need counseling.”

Complete Article HERE!