I remember when I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I can truly say, nothing has ever felt that heavy. I knew logically that I could handle it because billions of people did it every day, but there was this overwhelming weight of what it meant to be responsible for a human life. Someone who, because of me, was going to spend a possible 100 years making ripples on this earth. That it was not only my job to ensure this little pea was going to live a meaningful and happy life but that he was prepared to care for his own children with the love and compassion that I showed him… or that I didn’t show him. It’s a huge responsibility when you look forward through the generations and you start to imagine your actions as a consequence through time.
While I think many parents feel the weight of their importance, along comes the second child and it feels like we just go into autopilot. It doesn’t phase us when there’s baby poop under our fingernails, vomit in our hair, and we are perfectly comfortable operating a vehicle on 2 hrs sleep. This is your new normal! Instead of sleeping in until 11 and hitting brunch, you are up at 5 and getting a head start on laundry. What was important before children now seems ridiculous. What was once thought impossible is now done without a second thought.
In other words, we can do hard, scary things and with time they become second nature. We don’t need any special training, any certificates or approval to raise human beings. We rely on our instincts. We rely on love and know that no matter what happens, you will care more about your babies than any other person on earth. It’s this sense of love and belonging that really gets us through some long nights, tough moments and years of self-doubt.
So, if this is true in birth and life, that love and belonging gets us through hard things, shouldn’t the same then be true at the time of death? What does that love and belonging look like at the time of death?
We know that death is a hard and scary time. So much so, we typically just get someone else to do the more operational work. We hire Funeral Homes to take care of the stuff we are afraid of like touching our loved ones body, preparing it for viewing, housing all of our family, preparing sandwiches and drinks. They are really good at keeping it neat and tidy for us aren’t they? But bigger flowers, a nicer casket or a prime burial plot doesn’t really feel like love does it?
So when someone we love dies, where does our love go if not to care for our dead and how can we feel like they still belong to us when our dead is in the hands of strangers? Without this heavy lifting (and I’m sure many of us can relate) it just feels empty. It feels helpless. It feels like you have been cut off and are left holding all of your love without any place for it to go. Our current funeral practice don’t provide a transition for our new normal. It leaves us feeling like we've been wronged, like we are in this limbo. Why are we able to take pride in the enormous responsibility of raising humans but we so easily give this responsibility away when our loved ones die?
We justify the vomit hair and poopy fingernails because everyone says it’s worth it! We wear these things as badges of honour. The honour of love, belonging and of course, legacy. Our children grow up and we push them through science fairs, piano lessons, graduation and before we know it, we are telling them how wonderful it is to bring new life into this world. As you walk through memory lane with them, you remember the late night car rides, the explosive purges and you cannot help but smile through every story. You are proud of what you accomplished, of what they have become!
Why do we give this final connection, our final act of love and our final sense of belonging to away to strangers at the end of our lives?
I believe there are 2 simple reasons: 1) we simply we don’t know that we can take care of our dead loved ones and 2) we think we don’t know how.
We live in such a death phobic culture that multiple industries are making billions of dollars off our fears every year. Insurance, Funeral, Medical, and Beauty Industry as quick examples. We can’t even say the word! Dead, dying, death. My best friend is dead. Instead, we replace these words with loss or passed away, passed on, etc. A minute ago, you were perfectly ok with operating a vehicle on 2 hours sleep but you are not ok washing the body of your family member after they die? You are ok risking an accident that could result in death but you are not ok taking care of death.
I want to share a story of one woman’s journey into death and what it looked like for her family. To show you how could this be different.
Fran was dyi