Death doulas see death not only as something that’s a necessary part of life… but something that can even be beautiful.
As a person who rescues senior dogs I’m very aware that our pets won’t be around forever. I’ve lost many of my babies, and I’ve been looking into getting a piece of memorial jewelry so that I can keep them with me always. Luckily there are so many different ways to make and wear pet memorial jewelry. So I thought I’d share all the gorgeous ways we can keep our fur babies with us always…
I am feeling like a small canoe lost at sea. I am floating around, and I look rather normal up close. It is only unless you look a little longer and see the bigger picture do you see just how lost I really am. So here I go lost and floating around out into the greater world waiting for that stranger to boldly wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. I will smile and say, “Thank you.”
Sometimes on my walks, I even leave my phone at home.…I KNOW! Lately, I’ve been trying to imagine my phone in my hand as a strong cocktail — do I really need to take this cocktail on a walk with me? Yikes. Do I really need to have this cocktail in my hand while I’m hugging my son? Eep. Is 7am really a good time for a cocktail? Barf.
In our society, it is not acceptable for female-identified people to age. We are all downloaded with the message that we are supposed to look 20 years old forever. We get mad when our bodies begin to droop, sag, slow down, and our physical/mental abilities change.
But aging is a reminder that we are having a finite experience on the planet… and that is beautiful.
I’m not an expert on grief. I haven’t read the self-help books. I rarely take heed of anyone’s advice on how to grieve. Joan Didion famously wrote a meditation on grief that is equal parts beautiful and sad. She tells us that grief has no end, and that it’s nothing like we expect it to be. She describes the “comes in waves” phenomenon, which nobody can quite nail down in words but everyone knows exactly what it means when it’s said.
I can’t compare my grief to ocean waves, however. For me, it’s more like a car crash that you see coming but are helpless to stop — one that leaves you damaged and scarred, inside and out.
When I found out Anthony Bourdain took his own life, I was in shock. I still am. I cried all day. I’m crying now. My shock doesn’t come from a place of ignorance; I have clinical depression myself, and I’ve been medicated for a couple of years. I’ve worked hard to change my habits so that they help my mental health. Overall, it’s working. But there are still days, weeks, months when things are bleak…
My funeral is going to be at a Dairy Queen. I can just envision everyone eating Blizzards (hopefully Turtles!), sharing stories of their memories with me while my favourite ’90s playlist is blaring in the background (while someone is yelling “the music is too loud, can someone turn it down?!”). Of course, my ideas may change closer to when I die, hopefully in 60 years from now.
Luckily, the concept of an unconventional funeral is on the rise.