A man planted a 4-mile stretch of beautiful sunflowers to honor his late wife

BY CHLOE BRYAN

After Don Jaquish’s wife, Babbette, passed away after a lengthy battle with cancer in November, Jaquish created a blooming sunflower memorial in Wisconsin — one that he says captures his partner’s personality perfectly.

“She’s always loved flowers, but sunflowers were her favorite,” Jacquish told ABC 13 News Now. “They fit her personality. She’d walk into a room and her smile would light up the whole room.”

Four years ago, at Babbette’s request, the Jaquishes started growing a field of sunflowers on their farm, planning to sell the seeds and use the proceeds to support other cancer patients.

After Babbette passed away, Don continued the project, eventually planting more than four miles of sunflowers that now stretch across multiple fields and farms — many of which Jaquish was granted access to by generous neighbors.

 

 


Jaquish has also founded Babbette’s Seeds of Hope, a new division of his farming operation dedicated to carrying on Babbette’s legacy. Seeds from his sunflowers will be packaged as bird seed and sold in packets with Babette’s smiling face on the front.

“She was a pretty modest person and I’m not so sure she’d want her picture on the bag,” Jaquish told ABC. “But she’s such a beautiful woman. She didn’t really know how beautiful she was, inside and out.”

Four months after his wife’s death, Jaquish discovered a note she’d left him. “You move on and live each day,” it reads. “Feel me in the morning air, and when you wake up and make your coffee. I will be there always.”

Complete Article HERE!

Burial, cremation, or full fathom five? I can see the allure of a watery grave

By 

Eighty-five-year-old twins from Brooklyn are setting off on what they say will be their final voyage. Their plan to die at sea has an undeniable romance

Sunset over the sea
‘The sea is where we came from in the first place. There’s a definite romance to saying goodbye to the land, and setting sail for that last adventure.

The endlessness of the sea offers an eternal alternative. Perhaps if we just pushed off into it, we could escape death itself – as if its amniotic waters might be a return to a universal womb. After all, the sea is where we came from in the first place. There’s a definite romance to saying goodbye to the land, and setting sail for that last adventure.

Van and Carl Vollmer, 85-year-old twins from Brooklyn, certainly think so. The brothers are about to embark on the handsome 158ft, three-masted barquentine, the Peacemaker, on a round-the-world voyage in search of remote islands and sunken galleons, from the Panama Canal to the Great Barrier Reef, the Philippines, and on to the Mediterranean.

In order to get there, the pair – who currently live on a powerboat moored on City Island – have bill-posted Brooklyn’s hipster district of Williamsburg with an enticing proposition: “Brooklyn sea captain seeking crew!” They’re advertising for a 12-strong, able-bodied crew of men and women, including a mechanic, deckhand, cook, nutritionist and an aquaponic gardener to grow vegetables on top of fish tanks – a kind of hip 21st-century version of Ahab’s crew on the Pequod in Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. They’ll even get suitably retro uniforms of old-fashioned sailor pants with 13 buttons and yellow-and-white striped shirts. I’m guessing they’ll all have beards already.

But instead of a demented captain suicidally spearing a great white whale, the Vollmer twins are instructing their shipmates that when the time comes, they’ll be glad to go over the side. “To swim with the fishes for eternity”, as Van Vollmer says. “We want to spend the rest of our lives on this boat”, Carl adds. “We want to get thrown overboard”. Melville, who lived and died by the New York waterfront, would approve of such wild ambition. Having ended his own life as an ageing customs inspector on the Manhattan wharves looking out longingly to sea, the great writer probably wished he had done the same. Indeed, it’s a scene reminiscent of his last, elegiac seafaring tale, Billy Budd, whose protagonist ends up consigned to the deep: “…roll me over fair! / I am sleepy, and the oozy weeds about me twist.”

But not everyone is happy about the Vollmers’ intentions. At least one crew member, Steven, chosen by the twins as their first mate, is equivocal about this duty. “Van kind of brings it up and he’s like, ‘I want to teach you everything I know so when you dump me into the sea you can take over.’ I’m hoping that’s just some kind of expression. It’s not something I really want to think about.”

Not going gently into the good night but raging against the dying of the light, as Dylan Thomas recommended, has a long maritime tradition. It is an ambition peculiarly suited to the sea – particularly in our fractured archipelago of the British Isles. In Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield, Mr Peggotty, the Yarmouth fisherman, says of his brother-in-law Mr Barkis as he lies dying: “People can’t die, along the coast … except when the tide’s pretty nigh out … He’s going out with the tide. It’s ebb at half-arter three, slack water half-an-hour. If he lives till it turns, he’ll hold his own till past the flood, and go out with the next tide.” Nowadays, anyone hoping to swim with the fishes in eternity without going to the bother of sailing into the blue yonder can opt for burial at sea off the Isle of Wight, in a designated zone.

Meanwhile, the modern Odysseus takes to the ocean liner. Wealthy wanderers of a certain age have sold up on land to live at sea in permanently rented suites. A somewhat ominous-sounding company called Utopia caters to those who intend to spend the rest of their lives on the briny, while US websites discuss the practicalities, pondering, “Is cruise ship retirement cheaper than assisted living?”.

Beatrice Muller thought so. After her husband died on the QE2 as it sailed out of Bombay in 1999, she announced her intention to live on the liner till the end of her days, paying £3,500 a month for the privilege. Unfortunately for Mrs Muller, she outlasted the ship; it went into retirement in 2008. And although the stalwart senior citizen continued to defy the land – “I’ll keep on staying at sea”, she said, aged 89, “I don’t want to go back to housekeeping” – sadly, she seems to have ended up in a retirement home in New Jersey.

As someone who swims in the sea every day, I’ve often considered it as my last resting place; that like Barkis, I might be taken out with the tide. After all, I wouldn’t be using up valuable land space, or contributing to climate change. It sounds almost idyllic. “Full fathom five my father lies”, as Ariel sings in The Tempest, “Of his bones are coral made”, transformed “into something rich and strange”. But then I think of how lonely it might be, nibbled away by crawling slimy things where “the very deep did rot”, as the fated Ancient Mariner saw it. And would I really want to be recycled by lobsters, to end up in the food chain? Perhaps it’s not such a reassuring thought after all.

Complete Article HERE!

What’s a Death Midwife? Inside the Alternative Death Care Movement

From funeral cooperatives to green burials, there’s a kinder, gentler, less expensive way to die.

Jennifer_Luxton_Illustration_green_burial_death_dying.jpg
YES! illustration by Jennifer Luxton.

By 

Char Barrett walked into a quaint cafe in Seattle with business in mind.

Over the smell of coffee and freshly baked tarts, she was going to advise a client on how best to host a special event at her home, helping coordinate everything from the logistics of the ceremony, to how to dress the guest of honor. People might cry, they might laugh, and all attention would be on the person of the hour—only that person would never see, hear, or enjoy the festivities, because they would be dead.

001“People looked at me like I had two heads when I said, ‘Keep the body at home after the person dies,’” says Barrett, a Seattle-based funeral director and certified “death midwife.” “For families who want it, they should have the right to do it.”

Barrett has been practicing home funerals in the area since 2006 through her business, A Sacred Moment. In a home funeral service, the body is either brought back to the family from the place of death or stays at home if the person died there. The family then washes the body, in part to prepare it for viewing and in part as a ritual.

“It’s really the way we used to do it,” says Barrett.

To Barrett and many other professionals who are offering alternatives to the more status-oriented, profit-driven funeral industry, it’s time to rethink how we handle death. From consumer cooperatives that combat price gouging, to putting the power of choice back in the hands of the family, the city of Seattle has become a hub for alternative death care in the last two years, according to Barrett. The subculture of “deathxperts” want not only to empower their clients, but also potentially phase out their jobs altogether—a sort of death of the funeral director as we know it.

A History of Death

For the majority of human history, families handled arrangements for the deceased, from the time immediately after death, to burial or cremation. Until the advent of modern hospitals and health care at the turn of the last century, it was the norm for the old and sick to die at home surrounded by loved ones.

During the Civil War, embalming as a form of preservation found a foothold when Union soldier casualties needed to be transported from the sweltering South to mourning families in the North. Today, its pragmatic purpose is to temporarily stop decomposition for viewing and final goodbyes. However, the overwhelming majority of contemporary consumers don’t realize that, in most cases, it’s not legally required to bury a body, although special circumstances vary from state to state.

So why has probably every American funeral you’ve been to had an embalmed body in attendance?

As 20th century consumerism took hold and people were more likely to die in a hospital than at home, death receded from public consciousness. If a loved one were to die today, you would probably call and pay a funeral home to pick her up from wherever she took her last breath. They would wash her, embalm her, and dress her to your family’s liking. You would briefly visit her one last time at a mortuary or a chapel before she was either buried or burned. In all likelihood, her last bodily contact before disposition would be with a complete stranger.

In 1963, investigative journalist Jessica Mitford published “The American Way of Death,” an exposé of the country’s funeral-industrial complex, showing how it exploited the emotions of the living so it could up-sell unnecessary services and products, such as premium caskets and premier vaults. Federal Trade Commission regulations and consumer protections now prevent families from being swindled.

002Today, the funeral industry has become managed in part by aggregate companies. Mortuary giant Service Corporation International owns a large network of individually operated funeral homes and cemeteries, some of which exist on the same property as combination locations. If you imagine a standard funeral parlor and graveyard, you’re probably picturing an SCI-owned operation. Of the approximately 19,400 funeral homes in America, the publicly traded company owns about 2,300 homes, according to the National Funeral Director’s Association. Families and individuals privately own most of the rest.

“The reality is that if you can’t adapt to compete with SCI, you probably shouldn’t be in the market,” says Jeff Jorgenson, owner of Elemental Cremation and Burial, which prides itself in being Seattle’s “only green funeral home.” “But SCI is one of the best competitors you could ever hope for because they’re slow to change and they’re exceptionally resistant to anything progressive.”

Jorgenson started his business in 2012 with a special focus on carbon-neutral cremations and “green” embalming using eco-friendly preservatives. In every aspect of his operation, he works to be as environmentally minded as possible, an objective he sees lacking in most business models.

As SCI spent the 1960s through 1990s acquiring independent funeral homes to maximize profits, another organization was doing the exact opposite by forming a collective to prioritize consumer rights.

People’s Memorial Association is one of the nation’s only nonprofit organizations that pushes consumer freedom for end-of-life arrangements. Located in Seattle, the consumer membership-based group coordinates with 19 different death care providers across the state to offer fixed-price burial, cremation, and memorial services, as well as education and advocacy to encourage death care alternatives. Almost all of the funeral homes are privately owned and have a uniform price structure for PMA members, who contribute a one-time fee of $35. Barrett’s A Sacred Moment is one of PMA’s partners.

003“We negotiate contracts with the funeral homes so members walk in knowing exactly what they’re going to pay, and it’s usually a pretty significant discount from the usual prices,” says Nora Menkin, the managing funeral director of the Co-op Funeral Home. PMA founded it in 2007 when SCI decided to cancel arrangements with several of PMA’s partners. Now, PMA-contract homes offer full-service funerals for 65 percent less than the average local price, according to a 2014 price survey conducted by the PMA Education Fund.

“There’s no sales pressure, there’s no up-selling, and we make sure people get what they need,” says Menkin. “It’s about the consumer telling us what they want.”

Jorgenson’s Elemental Cremation and Burial works outside the umbrella of PMA’s service providers, but he still finds allies in Menkin and the Co-op Funeral Home.

“We’re in it to change an industry,” he says. “Just one of our voices out there is useless. There’s a kinder, gentler, less expensive way, and that’s what we’re all doing. It’s helping families in a new, more collaborative way.”

In Jorgenson’s opinion, you don’t even really need a funeral director.

“A funeral director is a wedding planner on a compressed time scale,” he says. “With the exception of the legality of filing a death certificate, a funeral director does the exact same things a wedding planner does: They make sure that the venue is available, that the flowers are ordered, the chaplain is there for the service, and that the guest of honor, be it the bride or the dead person, is there on time.”

In Washington state, some of the only legal requirements are preservation of the body 24 hours after death by way of embalming or refrigeration, obtaining a signed death certificate, and securing a permit for disposition of the deceased.

If the body will be kept at home for longer than 24 hours, preservation can be achieved by putting the body on dry ice for the duration of the viewing. Once the family has had enough time with the person, he or she will be removed for final disposition, which includes burial, cremation, or scientific donation.

“A funeral director that is truly in earnest with the services they’re providing these families would have the courage to say that,” says Barrett. “A family can do this themselves. They don’t need a licensed funeral director, especially in the 41 states where legally a family is able to sign their own death certificate.”

Even families who still want the guidance of a professional shouldn’t feel powerless.

“Too many people go to funeral homes and just want to be told what to do, because they haven’t been through it or they don’t want to think about it. That gives the funeral homes way more power than they really deserve,” says Menkin.

Ideally, a funeral home should educate consumers and encourage them to make informed decisions, she says, ultimately just acting as an agent to carry out their wishes.

The Process

For almost every modern funeral home preparation procedure, there is a more sustainable alternative. Dry ice can offset the need for embalming for brief viewing or shipping purposes. In instances where some form of embalming is necessary, such as a violently traumatic death, a mix of essential oils can replace the toxic mix of tinted formaldehyde. Even in the case of burial, biodegradable shrouds can eliminate the need for wood and metal caskets built, in theory, to last forever.

The distinctions apply to cemeteries too, which are divided into several camps as outlined by the Green Burial Council, the industry authority on sustainability. It assigns funeral homes, cemeteries, and suppliers a rating based on strict environmental impact standards, which scrutinize everything from embalming practices to casket material.

004There are traditional cemeteries with standard graves, monuments, mausoleums, and often water-intensive grass landscaping. The next step up are hybrid cemeteries, which still may have regular plots, but also offer burial options that don’t require concrete vaults, embalming, or standard caskets. Natural burial grounds, the middle rank, prohibit the use of vaults, traditional embalming techniques, and burial containers that aren’t made from natural or plant-derived materials; landscaping must incorporate native plants to harmonize with the local ecosystem, conserve energy, and minimize waste. Premier green burial occurs on conservation burial grounds, which in addition to meeting all of the above requirements, requires partnership with an established conservation organization and be dedicated to long-term environmental stewardship.

Natural and conservation burial grounds must limit the use and visibility of memorials and headstones so as to preserve the native visual landscape as much as possible. Some properties have switched to GPS-based plot markers—visitors wouldn’t know they’re in the middle of a cemetery unless they were looking for it.

As consumers become more comfortable with taking charge of their dead, there will be more room to introduce new methods of body disposition, such as alkaline hydrolodis, a type of liquid cremation, and body composting. Earlier this year, supporters successfully funded a Kickstarter campaign to start research on the Urban Death Project, which aims to turn decomposing bodies into nutrient-rich soil. According to Jorgenson, sustainable burial practices are still part of a boutique market, though that doesn’t change his bottom line.

“Death is difficult. People don’t really want to experiment with mom,” he says. “But I count myself fortunate to be out there as one of the people that offers these alternatives, should someone want them.”

“The co-op movement is bigger in other countries,” says Menkin, who attended the 2014 International Summit of Funeral Cooperatives in Quebec. “Canada has a large network of funeral cooperatives, but it’s a bit more like a traditional funeral industry, just with a different business model. They’re not about alternative forms of disposition or changing the norm. We’re kind of writing the book on this one.”

Eventually, those conversations may become commonplace.

“Now when I mention home funerals to people, they don’t think anything of it,” says Barrett. To her, the time has come for people to think outside the box—literally.

Complete Article HERE!

Feather Death Crowns: Appalachian Omens of Death

In Appalachian culture, a bizarre phenomenon of feather crowns found in the pillows of sick people became known as an omen of death.

Vintage feather death crown photo by Lori Kimball
Feather death crown dating somewhere between the 1800s and the 1930s.

By J. Nathan Couch

Feather pillows are about as rare the Loch Ness Monster, but once upon a time they were as common as could be.

Long ago, the people of Appalachia began to notice a peculiar phenomenon: odd crownlike masses in the pillows of the seriously ill or recently deceased.

These objects became known as Death Crowns (or less-commonly, angel crowns). Death Crowns are usually elaborate, interlocking designs that resemble a disc or crown. The quills always point inward, and though rare, are only found in the feather pillows of the seriously ill or recently deceased.

Because of the isolated, rural nature of the area, the phenomenon appears to be unique to Appalachia, or locations where some of these mountain folk migrated, such as Missouri, Indiana, and Ohio. But it’s almost exclusively a lost-belief now that most people have switched out their feather pillows for comfort foam or synthetic fibers.

I was fortunate enough to overhear a death crown story in my youth, otherwise I’d likely be unaware such a concept ever existed. My family has lived in Hall County, Georgia for generations, just miles from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

My great aunt paid us a visit when I was maybe 5 years old. She started talking about the recent death of her elderly father. He’d been killed while walking around a bus he’d just exited. A car sped by without caution, striking the old man. She was elected the sorrowful chore of sorting through her father’s belongings. As she lifted her father’s ancient feather pillow she felt something solid inside. She started to throw the pillow away, but something compelled her to open it up. She reached inside and probed with her fingers in search of what she had felt. To her astonishment, she pulled out an intricately woven wreath of feathers, roughly the size of a bird’s nest. She took this has a sign her father had gone to heaven.

After several minutes of convincing, she persuaded me to go play. After a while, I forgot about the whole thing—until bed of course. I recall squeezing and kneading my pillow in search of anything that might remotely feel like a “death wreath.” I didn’t. Finally, I fell asleep.

A vintage death crown with post-mortem photo and funeral card
Vintage death crown in a bell jar with post-mortem photo and funeral card.

These odd formations are usually interpreted as a heavenly sign, but skeptics believe that the movements of a dying person—tossing and turning combined with fever sweats–could cause these objects to take form.

If you are one of the few that still sleeps on feather pillow, do not lose all hope if you find a Death Crown in your pillow tonight. One old wives’ tale claims that if you break these wreaths up you could prevent the death of the person the pillow belongs to.

A collection of these oddities can be found at the Museum of Appalachia in Clinton, Tennessee.

Complete Article HERE!

On mourning the death of a friend

BY AMY WRIGHT GLENN

Mourning
To stand with an open heart and offer your words of tribute is a powerful way of honoring your friend.

Amy, 

Yesterday, one of my closest friends suffered an unexpected and massive heart attack – and died. Mark was generous, funny, honest, and kind. He was a true friend.

The funeral is set for early next week and I’ve been asked to say a few words. Out of respect for Mark, I want to speak. I will speak. The problem is I can’t stop crying. I haven’t cried like this since I was a boy. I’m scared that I will break down while speaking at the funeral. 

Also, every time I think of Mark, I feel like somebody is squeezing my own chest. Is this normal?

Please advice me at this difficult time. I just can’t believe this is happening.

Thank you.

David, Jenkintown

Dear David,

Thank you for trusting me with your story. Losing a loved one in such a sudden way is heart-wrenching. It makes sense to feel confused and scared. It makes sense to cry.

While surely disconcerting, the current tension felt in your chest is a normal response to yesterday’s tragedy. The mind and body are deeply interwoven realities. What touches one, touches the other. By making room for the wellspring of grief within, the gripping ache of loss and shock will ease. Allow your emotions to flow. They will bring you back to your boyhood when your heart was vulnerable, open and sensitive. The anxious and painful knot in your chest will open as you open.

Now, let’s consider Mark’s funeral. You’ve been asked to speak in a public space set aside for grieving the death of a close friend. You’ve agreed to share your words at a time when your own grief feels overwhelming. How can you speak clearly in this situation? What if, as you fear, you cry in front of everyone?

001In her book, “Healing Through the Dark Emotions: The Wisdom of Grief, Fear, and Despair,” psychotherapist Miriam Greenspan acknowledges that “loss, vulnerability, and violence” are woven into the very fabric of what it means to be human. Given this, our natural, healthy, and inevitable response is to feel “the dark emotions.” However, by calling grief, fear and despair “dark,” Greenspan doesn’t mean these feelings are bad. Rather, she reflects upon how our culture keeps these emotions in the dark, “shameful, secret, and unseen.” This is particularly true for men.

There isn’t a lot of room in our collective discourse for the public expression of a man’s grief. Crying in front of other men is still commonly viewed as a shameful defeat rather than a healthy and fully human form of expressing hurt or loss. Given this, many men grieve in private or they repress the emotions of sadness and focus on anger. For such men, the knots in their chest may never unravel. In fact, men are more likely than women to suffer from physical symptoms like headaches or backaches after the death of a loved one due to their struggle in making room for the body’s need to grieve.

These facts need not deflate your resolve. To stand with an open heart and offer your words of tribute is a powerful way of honoring your friend. You describe Mark as “honest” and “kind.” You know that such a friend deserves a funeral reflective of his best qualities. Yes, tears may come. Yes, your voice may shake. Yes, those gathered may see into the depth of your sadness. That can be scary. So be it. Better to speak with courage than to close down to the ebb and flow of emotion which nature intended us to feel at such difficult times.

May courage be yours as you walk to that podium David. May your words flow with honesty and kindness.

Finally, consider this insight offered by Lara Rogers Krawchuck, professor at the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Social Policy and Practice. Well known for her contributions to the further understanding of grief, loss and caregiving, she states: “Healing from a great loss comes a little bit at a time. It can look like a movement from shock or numbness to anguish to eventually being able to experience small moments of joy –- and eventually more joy than sorrow.”

Your friendship with Mark brought joy to your life. He was a “true friend” as you describe. Consider writing Mark a letter and express both the pain felt from his sudden death as well as the joy you’ve known in your shared friendship. Take a long drive and visit places meaningful to Mark. Or, go for a walk in nature and imagine Mark beside you. Talk to him. Express your sorrow and your gratitude.

In the processing of our individual stories of grief, we can experience the deep love found in universal human compassion. In your willingness to grieve Mark’s death, you will uncover qualities within your being that will allow you to become a source of refuge and strength for others. Of this, I am certain.

David, your story stays with me. I’m hopeful these reflections bring a healing balm of solace at this time. May you be open to the movement of healing as it manifests through you over the course of the next few days, weeks, months and years.

Peace,
Amy

Complete Article HERE!

I help terminally-ill parents leave stories behind for their children

Working with cancer patients makes me more determined to experience all that life has to offer, but sometimes the pain is more than I can bear

By Rachel Smith

Rachel Smith
‘I love to swim in the sea all year round – it makes me feel acutely alive.’

We all have an idea of how life is going to be, but mine has changed radically in the past seven years. I work on a project for children whose parents have cancer, helping them understand the illness and supporting them when their parent dies. I also support parents to communicate with children and, when the prognosis is not looking positive, I help them write books and letters for the family they are leaving behind.

I spend months, sometimes years, getting to know a family and then one day while going about my daily life I will receive a text, often early in the morning saying “he slipped away at 4am” or “Rachel, he’s gone”. Over the past seven years I have experienced so many losses in my work. I try to remain emotionally separate, but I am human, a compassionate human, and it hurts every time. Often I check my work phone just before doing the school run. I drive my two young children to school and then cry as I go on to work. It is not the same gut-wrenching loss as that of a personal loved one, but silent tears in the knowledge that a family’s world has shattered.

As I arrive in work, all the normal things are happening. People in the kitchen are talking about diets, referrals for new families are coming in and I am trying to fathom how I can fit a funeral into my week if the family need me to attend. I often get told by families that I’m the one who remained real throughout everything, and I don’t want to let them down at the end.

When working in end-of-life care the level of intimacy with someone changes completely. Time becomes the most precious commodity and communication is honest. To be able to give someone the chance to convey their dreams is an honour, but it takes its toll.

Recently, a gentleman I worked with died. I had known his family for six years, Ifilmed his eulogy and hours of footage for his family. The magnitude of life and death suddenly hit me. I felt I had reached a limit of sadness and could not take any more. I needed time to think, to feel alive again and to be surrounded by life.

In this job there is no place for burnt-out heroes or martyrs. We all have a limit and I felt like an empty cup. I find that to cope I need to strip life back: I want to feel the world around me, the rain falling on my face and be in places of natural beauty. I need to be with people I love, who understand my job without needing to talk about it. Talking is exactly what I don’t want to do; I want to laugh and be outside. I love to swim in the sea all year round – it makes me feel acutely alive.

When recording books with people a common plea I hear is “I have no regrets, I just wish I had more time”. So I create time in my own life; I breathe, love, hug and do all those clichéd things so that I can go back into work and be useful again. I refill my cup. I think that when working in such a profession, at times we need to bend the boundaries to be human and to understand that is what people need. It is ok to be hurt and show hurt, to put your hands up and say I need a break, I need to go and breathe for a while.

To finish, I shall leave you with words by Fiona, who wrote this for her three children two weeks before she died.

“You are meant to be here. I believe that although I wanted to be here and share your life: the ups and the downs. God needs me elsewhere and you have to stay on Earth. Be a good friend and surround yourself with good friends. You don’t need to be the most popular one, the most strong or the most clever. But always be a good friend to those around you.”

Complete Article HERE!

Everything you ever wanted to know about death but were too afraid to ask

By 

When Ally Mosher’s​ grandfather died, the experience was far from peaceful. His death in hospital after a series of strokes was “chaotic and traumatic and something my grandmother knew she didn’t want for herself”.

After clearly expressing her wishes, Ms Mosher’s grandmother Margaret Butler died quietly at the age of 94 last month. She was in her own bed, in comfort and surrounded by close family members.

“Knowing what she wanted made it a lot easier for us,” Ms Mosher said. “We knew she wanted us to be there when she passed and my mum was holding her hand. It sounds like an odd thing to say but it was a perfect death.”

Ally Mosher, whose grandmother died a few weeks ago, is learning how to deal with bereavement in a positive way.

While we are familiar with the idea of living well, the idea of dying well is relatively new but one gaining momentum in the wider community.

Ms Mosher, a graphic designer from Hazelbrook, uses her own experience to promote “death literacy” although she admits not everyone is comfortable with the subject.

“There is a social stigma about death,” she said. “You can’t talk about death in a healthy, positive way. If you are talking about death you must be weird or morbid.”

Community group The Groundswell Project has spent the past five years creating wider awareness about dying to help overcome reluctance to address the issue.

The group has come up with 10 things people need to know about death, with workshops on the topic to be launched in conjunction with Dying to Know Day on August 8.

The Groundswell Project’s director, Kerrie Noonan, a clinical psychologist specialising in palliative care, found most people sought practical advice about death.

“People really wanted more information about the nuts and bolts stuff,” she said. “What do I need to tell my family? How do I approach the subject with them?”

A report by The Grattan Institute published last year found found that dying in Australia was more institutionalised than the rest of the world, with the majority of people dying in hospital or a residential care facility.

“We’re not around death,” Ms Noonan said. “Death is removed; it takes place in a hospital or a hospice. We don’t have a context for having conversations about death.”

Things to know before you go:

1. Make a plan. Fewer than 5 per cent of people have an end of life plan.

2. Write a will. Only 55 per cent of people who die have a will.

3. Tell someone what you want. Of those who know they are dying, only 25 per cent will have spoken to their families about their wishes.

4. Only 30 per cent of deaths are unexpected. Make a decision about how you want to die while you have time.

5. Doctors don’t die like the rest of us. They are more likely to die at home with less invasive intervention at the end of their lives.

6. Earlier referral to palliative care means living longer with better quality of life.

7. You don’t need a funeral director. DIY funerals are becoming more popular.

8. The majority of Australians choose cremation but there are alternatives including natural burial, burial at sea or donating your body for research.

9. We don’t grieve in stages. Only 10 per cent of us need professional support after a death.

10. 60 per cent of people think we need to spend more time talking about death.

Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/everything-you-ever-wanted-to-know-about-death-but-were-too-afraid-to-ask-20150730-gij35d.html#ixzz3hNlfhyTU

Complete Article HERE!