Category: After Death Care

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10 Things Your Doctor Won’t Tell You About Dying

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Learn what science has discovered so far about what happens when we die.

Death is a subject many people do not like to discuss, but it’s a part of life that we will all have to face. Sometimes the more you know about a certain subject, the less frightening it becomes. Here are 10 things you may not know about dying.

1. Dying is often a process. There are numerous causes of death, many of which are instant. For people who know death is approaching — whether from sickness or old age — there are certain signs. These signs include slowed breathing, weakened heart rate, and a change in color, says Zachary Palace, MD, medical director of the Hebrew Home at Riverdale in New York.

“In general, in the time leading up to death, usually the person will become pale because of a drop in blood pressure,” he says. “The fingers may get cold or turn blue. If you feel the pulse, it will be weak, and then they start to develop an irregular type of breathing, and that’s a sign that things are pretty ominous.”

2. When breathing slows, death is likely near. Dr. Palace explains that there may be gaps in between breaths where it looks like the person stopped breathing for 15 to 20 seconds. He says families often worry at this point, but he assures them that it’s a normal part of the dying process.

3. There are two stages of death. The first stage, known as clinical death, occurs when a person’s heart stops beating. About four to six minutes later, brain cells start to die from the loss of oxygen and biological death occurs.

4. Resuscitation may be possible during clinical death. But it’s not possible during biological death. However, doctors may be able to delay biological death by cooling the body, thus extending the window for possible resuscitation. Palace also points out that drowning victims or people in a colder environment may also delay biological death. “The colder the body is, the slower the metabolic rate,” he explains, “so you’re using oxygen up slower and that window may be longer.”

5. Hearing may be the last sense to go. Though it has not been scientifically proven, it is widely believed that hearing is the last of the senses lost before death. “It’s the most passive sense,” Palace explains. He says that when death seems imminent, “weencourage families to talk and share their last thoughts, love, and support with their loved ones because even though the blood pressure is dropping and they’re fading out, they can hear what we’re saying.”

6. You may urinate and defecate. When we’re alive, our brain is constantly sending signals to tell different parts of our body what to do. At death, these signals stop, and our muscles mostly relax. “The neck of the bladder and the sphincter are in a constant state of contraction, so when there’s no more neural signals to the bladder or bowels, then they relax,” Palace says. “So it’s not uncommon just after death for urine to come pouring out or for someone to defecate.”

7. Morphine is only used to ease the pain associated with passing. Palace says the biggest misconception he hears is that morphine is given to patients to help induce death. He says this couldn’t be further from the truth. “Obviously, physician-assisted suicide is not legal in most states, so morphine is not given to help hasten the end,” he says.

When people are dying, Palace explains, blood pressure drops and they are getting less oxygen to their organs. The body responds by gasping for air in a futile attempt to increase their respiratory rate. Doctors refer to this as air hunger. “That gasping is very difficult for families to see, as it obviously looks painful, and that’s where the role of morphine comes in,” Palace says. “The proper dose of morphine relieves the sense of air hunger, so they’re breathing more calmly and more comfortably.”

8. The body as a whole may be dead, but certain parts within are still alive. The brain is the first organ to begin to break down, and other organs follow suit. Living bacteria in the body, particularly in the bowels, play a major role in this decomposition process, or putrefaction. This decay produces a very potent odor. “Even within a half hour, you can smell death in the room,” he says. “It has a very distinct smell.”

9. There may be a scientific explanation to the notion of your life flashing before your eyes. A 2013 study from the University of Michigan found that dying rats displayed high levels of brain waves shortly after their hearts stopped beating. Researchers believe the finding could have implications for humans and possibly explain the near-death experiences many cardiac arrest survivors report. “It will form the foundation for future human studies investigating mental experiences occurring in the dying brain, including seeing light during cardiac arrest,” lead study author Jimo Borjigin, PhD, said in a statement.

10. Consciousness may continue after death. There is little scientific research available that tells us what happens to the mind after death, but a 2014 study may offer some insight. Researchers at the University of Southampton in England examined over 2,000 cardiac arrest patients in the United States, United Kingdom, and Austria. Of those who survived, 140 were surveyed about their near-death experiences, and 39 percent reported feeling some kind of awareness while being resuscitated. This sense of awareness included feelings of peacefulness and a sensation that time slowed down or sped up. Thirteen percent reported feeling separated from their bodies. While only two percent exhibited full awareness, researchers say this proves that more studies need to be done.

Complete Article HERE!

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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!

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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

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‘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?

 Complete Article HERE!

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Death with options: How we bury our loved ones is changing

By Sybil Fix

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The family of Mrs. Jean Dukes lowers her simple casket into the grave at Greenhaven Preserve. The natural burial is an alternative to traditional mortuary practices.

After burying her mother a few years ago, Sheila Holt found herself contemplating her own death.

There was no urgency to it: she was in her early 50s and in good health. But the Summerville health services online school teacher was not inclined to look at death shyly. With a career in nursing behind her, she felt an urge to plan for it and, specifically, for the disposal of her body.

Meditating, envisioning a reel of sensations, Holt quickly excluded embalming, for both the chemicals and the removal of the organs, which felt violating. And then caskets, too.

She considered cremation, and quickly discarded that option: Fire felt violent and destructive.

“It did not feel free to me. I want to view my death as freeing,” she said.

Frustrated, she turned to Google and read about something called natural burials and three places in South Carolina that offered them. On a rainy winter day, she and her husband drove two hours north to Eastover to visit Greenhaven Preserve, a 360-acre nature land trust where one can be buried in a simple shroud in the thick of the woods.

Walking the grounds, they came to a small clearing big enough to park a large SUV and framed gracefully by four hollies. The space seemed to suggest a bucolic grave. Suddenly, the sun came out and the dappled rays came to rest there.

“That was it. I looked at my husband and said, this is it. This is my afterlife spot,” Holt said. She paused in thought. “I have the deed and everything … I could not be more prepared and happy.”

Confronting our mortality and planning for it continue to be hard things to do. Yet, Holt may be representative of a significant shift not only in willingness to discuss death but to chart it so it can unfold in a way that is more truthful what we want for ourselves.

Once, said Archie Willis, president of McAlister-Smith funeral homes here, people did whatever the family did, on a spit of land that had meaning to them, united by the same religion and tradition.

Now families often are split by distance, divorce, second marriages and different religions. Those things complicate decisions regarding burial.

But other influences are budding as people question embalming and caskets, want ritual without artifice, want more individual choice and question their impact on the planet, even in death.

“There is an awareness and a demand for public information about choice that is unprecedented,”said Kate Kalanick, executive director of the Green Burial Council, based in California, which created standards for environmentally conscious deathcare.

College of Charleston professor George Dickinson, who has taught a class called Death and Dying for some 30 years now, calls us “a death-denying society.” But, he said, “the conversation is coming to the forefront. We don’t have to do what Mom and Pop did anymore and we are freer to be frank about it.”

Changing conversation

Every couple of months, people gather in small groups to talk about death. Called Death Cafes (and elsewhere, Death Over Dinner), people venture over food and drink into an uncomfortable conversation, but one that nearly everyone yearns to have.

The group’s foundational belief, “is that if we talk about death in an open way, people will make the most of their lives,” said Jan Schreiber, who retired to Charleston and founded the Death Cafe chapter here. “Talking about death clarifies your life.”

Some people come to talk about coping with dying; others want suggestions on how to discuss death with their aging parents. And some of the conversation is about planning, which nationally many are expressing a need to discuss.

According to the Funeral and Memorial Information Council’s Study of American Attitudes toward Ritualization and Memorialization, in 2015, 69 percent of adults over the age of 40 say they would prefer to prearrange their own service. It may sound like a chore, but, interestingly, the more planned it is, the better we feel about it.

Death with options2
Greenhaven Preserve offers spaces for natural burials.

“I think people are taking more control over their relationship with death,” said Dickinson.

In one large way, that means that people are beginning to question or revisit practices that, in some cases, have survived and been tweaked over thousands of years: among them, embalming and protecting the body in heavy containers that separate us as much as possible from nature. Now there are more options.

Ashes to ashes

The most obvious revolution in deathcare is the meteoric increase in cremation rates, which have gone from 25 percent in 2009 to nearly 50 percent in 2014 and is estimated to exceed 60 percent by 2025, according to the Cremation Association of North America. In favoring cremation, people cite lower costs, practicality and sometimes wanting to save space on Earth.

In Charleston, mecca for retirees and second-home owners, cremation rates exceed 60 percent, said Willis.

At McAlister-Smith, they handle so many that they have changed their logo. Meanwhile, the ways to memorialize cremated remains have grown proportionally: They can be made into diamonds, art, bird baths and reef balls. They can be launched into space or divided in vials that fit easily in a purse. A deceased loved one can come with us everywhere.

Memorial services for the cremated are often more elaborate and painstakingly planned than funerals at which the body is present, said Cynthia Linhart, McAlister-Smith’s director of support.

“Cremation opens the door to the possibility of multiple services and unique locations outside of church,” Linhart said. “They are real celebrations of life … I hear the most romantic of stories.”

But a newer urge is to achieve true dust to dust, the body returning to the soil, as it were, in its immediacy and purity.

Interest in green burial options has gone from 43 percent to 64 percent over the past five years, according to the FMIC study. In the past 10 years, since it began certifying green burial sites, the Green Burial Council has certified 54 cemeteries around the country; another 50 or so practice green burials though they are not certified, Kalanick said.

Green burial requires the use of nontoxic and biodegradable materials such as pine or sweetgrass caskets and cotton shrouds. It appeals to environmentally minded people but also people who feel connected to the land and, Kalanick said, observers of religions that cherish the belief in ashes to ashes. There is a newfound spirituality in the simplicity of nature, she said.

“It’s the most natural thing on Earth,” said Ronnie Watts, an amiable man who started Greenhaven Preserve with his nephew after reading an article on natural burials. “They were walking a pine box through the woods in jeans. I said, ‘That sounds good. I’ve never worn a suit in my life and I don’t want to wear one when I’m buried.’ ”

In the woods

The practice may sound revolutionary, but it’s ancient and legal.

In South Carolina (and most other states), it is legal not only to handle your deceased, but to bury them without funeral home or director, casket or embalming. While many may continue to rely on someone to take and transport a body — and funeral directors continue to be the preferred professionals to call for help — many people are also trending now toward rituals that seem less artificial and cumbersome.

At Greenhaven people get to choose a plot 10 feet by 10 in expanses of woods over rolling hills. Walking the grounds among the hollies, the dogwoods in bloom, the Bradford pears and pines reaching to the sky, the shrieks of birds and dodging of deer, one barely sees the natural stones marking the graves here and there.

Often the deceased are shrouded and lowered in the ground by their own family members. Families plant blooming bulbs on the graves and trees to shade them. There is no danger of tripping over another grave or cars driving by. And, said Watts, you can have a whole funeral for $2,500, including the cost of the plot, opening and closing the grave, and a shroud or pine casket.

“And you can come and stay as long as you want,” he said.

Pamela Horton, of Irmo, buried her husband, William “Steve,” at Greenhaven in 2014. They visited there after Steve was diagnosed with lung cancer, at 63. He wasn’t too keen on cremation; for her part, she didn’t want a casket or embalming. The concept of a natural burial appealed to them spiritually.

When they toured the grounds, they saw a spot they liked at the foot of a hill, facing the rising sun, a Biblical reference to Jesus’s return. They lay down on the ground together, side by side, like children making snow angels, “to figure out how we wanted to be,” Pam said, tenderness in her voice.

Some months later, Steve died, at home. He was washed and shrouded in a white sheet they had slept in together. The family had a gathering in the woods and they all shoveled in the dirt.

“It felt natural and right. It’s a good way to be buried. It’s the way it’s supposed to be,” she said.

Dying as we live

To accommodate this new appeal is a plethora of green products, including biodegradable shrouds, cardboard caskets and biodegradable containers for cremated remains that look like turtles and dissolve in water.

And ingenuity is taking it further.

An Italian company, Capsula Mundi, is proposing treed pod burial capsules in which tree saplings are planted in the earth with a body folded in a fetal position.

From death sprouts life, truly.

And a company called Coeio, in New York, is poised to release something called the Infinity Burial Shroud, a burial cloth woven of mushroom spores that degrade contaminants in the body as it decomposes.

“It would not be a far cry to say that people want to die the way they live,” said Mike Ma, co-founder and president of Coeio, citing market demand for hybrid cars and organic foods.

Since word of the company got out in the past several months, its mailing list has grown to thousands; they also have a list of hundreds interested in being early adopters of the death infinity suit.

“It’s growing into a movement that people are willing to put themselves into, literally,” Ma said.

Personally, development of the company clarified Ma’s life.

“If we come to grips with our death, we have the potential to live life better,” he said.

Complete Article HERE!

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Executive Producing Your Own Goodbye

My father-in-law was a planner his entire life. The end was no exception.

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Hollywood film industry producers or directors in a sound stage
Hollywood film industry producers or directors in a sound stage

We’re better at welcoming new life into this world than we are at saying goodbye. But some point we all end up on the off ramp, regardless of whether we choose to realize it.

But before we hit the exit, there are a few important things to consider: the body, the obituary, the service, and the afterparty. And my father-in-law, Hank, taught all of us how it’s done.

Hank died last January at 92. In December, two doctors declined to operate on his leaky heart valve. They didn’t think he’d survive. So we had a wistful but wonderful Christmas with him as he furniture-walked around the house, grabbing at table and counter tops with labored breathing until he finally settled in on the TV room couch.

Fortunately for all of us, Hank was an engineer and a planner. Years earlier we’d received a blue folder filled with notes on what to do in the event of his death.

He sent us these thoughts in the year 2000. He re-sent them in 2008, complete with an addendum from his wife called “When We Drop Dead.”

First was the body. Yale Medical School was supposed to get it. He left us the phone number and a name. This is actually more complicated than it sounds. You have to die in Connecticut. Yale has to receive the body quickly. And you need an authentic death certificate before they’ll take the body away.

Next, the obituary. Hank kindly provided the name and number of the New Haven Register obit section. And The New York Times’. My husband wrote it. That’s hard to do when you’re grieving. If at all possible, might I recommend writing an obituary in advance, when your head is clear and you have time to check the facts.

There are two kinds of obituaries: paid and unpaid. The paid have a just the facts, ma’am format. My husband wrote this long, heart-tugging piece about his dad’s rags-to-riches story of working hard and rising through the ranks until he was head of a manufacturing company. How his dad had never thought of going to college until a friend off-handedly told him, “Hey, you’re pretty smart. You should.” How he trained in World War II to be a dive bomber pilot (a profession in which half the men died). How when he was 13, he watched his own father drop dead of a heart attack while placing a star on top of the Christmas tree.

It was a lovely obituary. It was WAY too long. My husband eventually wrote a shorter, more bloodless, just the facts one for the paid section but it made him sad. His dad had been a prominent local philanthropist in New Haven. He’d given to hospitals, universities and schools.

Onto the service. I’m a comedian. Twice before he died, Hank asked me to host his memorial service. I said, “But Grandpa, I’ve never emceed a funeral.” He said, “Jane, it’s not a funeral. It’s a celebration of life. I want people to have fun. Tell them how I loved Scott Joplin and Broadway musicals like Oklahoma and South Pacific. How every year we went to the Messiah sing along at Yale because I loved classical music. And keep it to 90 minutes.”

I emceed. His two sons spoke—one at the beginning of the service and one at the end. So did all four grandchildren, who wanted to share stories about the great guy they knew: how he windsurfed until he was 85, let them drive as kids in his beat-up station wagon as they sat in his lap—unbeknownst to Grandma or their parents. Three representatives from his favorite organizations spoke. And two Scott Joplin piano interludes and one soprano singing Handel’s Messiah were woven into the program.

The obit that had been too long? That went into the program. The grandchildren put a copy on every seat.

The New Haven Register sent a reporter and a photographer. So much of New Haven showed up that it became the next day’s front-page story.

It would have been enough. But ever the planner, Hank had one last idea: the after party. At the end of the service, Charlie Salerno and the Clamdiggers their festive red-striped jackets playing Hank’s all-time favorite song, “When The Saints Go Marching In!” He had left us their card—the brass section marched to the stage and led a procession out the hall and directly toward the two bars that he’d drawn in his notes.

Hank was a terrific planner in life. And he did a bang-up job executive producing how we managed the time right after his death. If only he could have done that for others, he’d certainly have found a great second career.

Complete Article HERE!

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Why You Need A Death Certificate When Someone Dies

by Davis Grey

A Death Certificate

Do you think that a death certificate is just another piece of bureaucratic paperwork you have to take care of? Think again. While it might seem like it’s just one more hassle during an incredibly difficult time for you and your family, the reality is a death certificate is a crucial document to have, especially if you’re an estate executor. Let’s find out why, and how to go about getting one.

The Link Between A Death Certificate And Proof of Death

Put quite simply, a death certificate proves that someone has died. While it might seem crazy that you need to prove that a loved one has passed away, think about all of the ways people could use their death to get out of obligations. Between tax and debt evasion alone, there are a whole host of reasons why someone might want to pass off as dead. Or, on the flip side, ill-meaning individuals can take advantage of someone’s estate if all they have to do is claim a person has died.

Thanks to death certificates, authorities can be reasonably assured that an individual has truly passed and steps can be taken to liquidate an estate.

The Link Between A Death Certificate And Estate Execution

On a more day-to-day level, there is a standard reason that death certificates are issued: they are necessary for someone to be appointed as your estate executor.

Estate executors are intrusted with dispersing your estate and following your last will’s wishes, which means making sure your debts are paid off and your beneficiaries receive their inheritance. A big piece of this is getting in touch with assorted parties like financial institutions, insurance companies, the social security administration, and the Veterans Administration (if applicable) and closing your accounts, paying outstanding bills, and accessing your assets. These institutions will not speak with you unless they have proof that the individual has died and that you are entrusted with their estate. As you can guess, the death certificate is the vital proof you need that your loved one has died, and opens the door for executors to complete their responsibilities.

The Link Between A Death Certificate And Digital Accounts

Many people today have digital accounts with a whole host of providers. Think Facebook, Google, Amazon, and even online dating sites. When a loved one dies you’ll likely want to close these accounts. Sometimes it’s to stop digital notices, other times it’s to ensure no future charges are made to your loved one’s bank or credit card accounts.

Just like financial institutions, many of these digital institutions require a death certificate to prove the account holder has died. Don’t believe us? Just read these past articles on closing a Facebook or a Google account. Sure enough, these major sites want to see a death certificate before they even speak with you.

How To Get The Death Certificate

As we wrote about in more detail, the actual responsibility of filing for a death certificate is generally in the hands of the person preparing the body like a funeral director or crematory. It is just as easy to request one death certificate as it is to request twenty. Or, you can always try VitalChek and have them get it for you. Now that you see how many different institutions will want to see one, you can understand why you’re better off asking for more right off the bat. With a whole bunch handy, you can more easily cross of your estate executor to-do list.

Complete Article HERE!

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The 8 best ways to die – green burial, biodegradable coffins, fertilizer funerals…

Your death. It’s bad for you, but could be worse for the planet. Fear not, though, doomed mortal – from green burial to self-composting, here are eight ways to straighten up and die right

8 best ways to die

By Alison Maney

You hear it all the time: “Your lifestyle affects the environment.” But do you ever consider how your death will impact the world after you’re gone?

Recently the idea of a green burial took a turn for the practical/macabre, depending on your point of view, with the excitement around the Capsula Mundi death pods – bulbous bodybags inside which your earthly remains can quietly decompose into earthy tree food:

Capsula Mundi
Green burial inside Capsula Mundi burial pods: what sap!

Which is all part of a growing recognition that traditional burials aren’t very eco-friendly. Think about it: we fill a corpse with potentially toxic embalming liquid (formaldehyde, a chemical commonly used in embalming fluid, is sometimes classified as a carcinogen), put it in a mahogany box that’s been transported and harvested from the tropics, and allow nothing but grass to grow over the burial site for hundreds of years.

Or you opt for cremation, which is arguably worse – burning a body necessitates massive amounts of gas and electricity (about the same amount you would normally use in a month, according to some figures) and releases greenhouse gases and mercury (!) into the air.

“If you assumed your late Aunt Bertha could no longer expand her carbon footprint, you’re sadly mistaken”

Yes, if you assumed your late Aunt Bertha could no longer expand her carbon footprint, you’re sadly mistaken – the deceased continue to have an environmental impact beyond the grave.

But do not despair, environmentally conscious future-corpses. You’re not doomed to an afterlife of eco-unfriendliness. If you’re dead serious about turning your ultimate demise into your ultimate act of kindness, then read on, because we’ve put together a plethora of green burial options and eco-positive posthumous possibilities for you to peruse.

1. Freeze-dry your remains

Freeze-dry your remains

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the saying goes. But what kind of dust? How about millimetre-sized freeze-dried particles? The process of promession, developed in 1997 by biologist Susanne Wiigh-Mäsak, does just that. The process is surprisingly gentle: your corpse is frozen at -18° C (0.4° F) and placed in a vat of liquid nitrogen. Slight vibrations break up the body and a vacuum chamber evaporates the liquid, transforming your earthly remains into a dry powder. A bit less traumatic than having your body incinerated, no?

Why is this so good for the environment? Unlike cremation, the process doesn’t release harmful gas into the air and helps break the body down more quickly once it’s buried (usually in a corn starch coffin, set in a shallow grave). After 6 to 12 months, the body and its coffin will have completely composted into the soil, creating fertile ground for new life. Aw!

2. From grief to reef – rebuild coral with your corpse

Reef Balls
Reef Balls

If you really want to be cremated, you can still do some good with your dust. Consider resting in a watery grave while helping the rebuilding of coral reefs and the creation of habitats for fast-dwindling marine life. Eternal Reefs will mix your ashes into environmentally safe concrete that will be used to create a Reef Ball, a porous, pod-like structure specifically designed to mimic a natural reef and provide a habitat for microorganisms, animals and plants.

An alternative to your more traditional urn, Reef Balls can be adorned with a small plaque and marked with handprints and messages from your loved ones, before being dropped into the sea. Family members and friends can boat out to your final resting place for a memorial ceremony. Gives the term ‘life after death’ a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?

3. Literally become a tree

A Bios urn
A Bios urn

Another option if you feel you simply must be cremated? Become a tree. The Bios Urn is essentially a cone that contains soil, your ashes and a tree seed of your choosing. The urn itself is biodegradable, so you just plant the whole shebang in the ground and watch a sapling spring from what used to be your grandfather. It’s a touching way to keep the dearly departed in the family (unless there’s a termite infestation – sorry, grandpa) and helps combat the world’s abysmal deforestation statistics – up to 58 thousand square miles of forest per year.

So, what kind of tree do you want to be? The website offers maple, pine, ginkgo, beech and ash seeds, plus the option to contribute your own preferred seed if none of those tickle your branches.

4. Use a biodegradable coffin

A wicker coffin
A wicker coffin

When it comes to biodegradable coffins, the ultimate in green burial funeral accessories, you have plenty of choices. Fancy a colourful, personalised cardboard coffin that’s free of metal fixings and made from recycled materials? You got it. Prefer something earthy, pretty and endearingly similar to a picnic hamper, like a wicker coffin? No problem. How about a coffin made out of cotton and banana leaves? Done.

Unlike mahogany coffins, biodegradable coffins are usually built locally and aren’t treated or covered in lacquer. That cuts down on emissions used to transport the coffins and the time it takes for the coffin to disintegrate once in the ground.

Even better news? Biodegradable coffins tend to be cheaper than their more traditional tropical hardwood counterparts. With funerals typically costing around £3,700 (around $5,277) in the UK and over $7,000 (£4,909) in the US, your surviving family members will definitely thank you.

5. Get embalmed with essential oils

Essential oils
Essential oils

Sure, formaldehyde is great for preserving your flesh (or shark flesh if you’re Damian Hirst) so that you look your best at your funeral, but this popular embalming ingredient is also a toxic chemical and – surprisingly enough – is therefore rife with problems. It’s linked to cancer and has also recently been linked to ALS (a neurodegenerative disease), putting embalmers at risk. And although there haven’t been any conclusive studies measuring the environmental impact of embalming liquid (and, in all fairness, the compound typically breaks down quickly in the soil), some people have argued that the liquid could somehow make its way into our drinking water.

Instead of risking the life of your future funeral director, or the plant and animal life that will live in and around your grave, why not get yourself embalmed with non-toxic essential oils? Biodegradable embalming alternatives still disinfect, deodorize and preserve – though perhaps not for as long. Still, the sooner your body starts helping nourish new life in the soil the better, right?

6. Have a woodland burial

Delliefure Natural Burial Ground
Delliefure Natural Burial Ground

Woodland burials, also known as natural or green burials, have surged in popularity over the past few years. And why wouldn’t they? Traditional cemeteries are sad and macabre, not to mention covered in herbicides and manicured regularly with petrol lawnmowers. Instead, why not let local plant and animal life flourish around your former earthly vessel? Sounds like a much cheerier way to spend the afterlife.

A word to the wise: natural burial grounds can vary widely. Some are very strict about what you can put in the ground – no embalmed bodies, no stone memorials, no non-biodegradable coffins – while others are less stringent. Some plant a tree over the grave, while others place a wooden plaque (or both). Some are commercial enterprises, while others are non-profit charities.

Though they’re called ‘woodland burials,’ you can find natural burial sites in fields, meadows, woodlands and parks. Some are even adjacent to more traditional cemeteries. Whatever you like, really. But whatever you choose, you’re helping to preserve a green space by using it as your final resting place – after all, no-one wants to build condos over a burial ground.

These types of burials are also usually cheaper than buying a plot in a traditional graveyard. Again, your descendants will thank you.

7. Donate your body to science

Science body dissection model
Science body dissection model

Have you ever dreamed of helping to find a cure for cancer? Well, that dream doesn’t need to die just because you did. If you donate your body to medical science, you’ll help train future doctors or help scientists perform biomedical research. If you’re nervous about how young doctors will treat your former vessel, never fear – when it comes to human dissection, medicinal ethics generally dictate that medical students must treat your body with dignity. Well, as much dignity as you can grant a body while you’re slicing it open and peeking at its insides.

But be warned – if you’re an organ donor and one or more of your organs are removed post-mortem, most medical schools won’t take your cadaver (yep, that’s your corpse). This is an all-or-nothing sort of deal.

8. Compost yourself

A proposal for the Urban Death Project
A proposal for the Urban Death Project

This option isn’t available yet, but it might be by the time you meet your maker. Architect Katrina Spade’s Urban Death Project is essentially a dignified way to turn your remains into nutritive compost as quickly as possible.

Spade envisions a three-storey composting column, primed with high-carbon materials and microbes, surrounded by a wide winding ramp. Your family personally wraps your body in a shroud and walks it up to the top of the column, where they say goodbye. Then you’re gently placed in the composting facility, and before you know it, boom – you’re soil.

Of course, you can’t have your body embalmed – quick decomposition is kind of the point here – but the project will happily refrigerate your physical form until the ceremony takes place. If that sounds like your kind of thing, you can even donate to the Urban Death Project.

Complete Article HERE!