Readers I want to give you the opportunity to ask questions about death and dying, the processes and procedures, mysteries and oddities. What goes on when we go up and if, indeed, what goes up must come down.
And so on.
And so forth.
Not long ago I held a Saturday morning open forum on death and dying (with Dunkin’ Donuts) at the church and it was lively and well-attended, confirming, once again, that most people do want to talk about death.
I was at a dinner thing a week or so ago and a famous actress was there. I had the opportunity to talk with her for a few minutes and in that time she launched into a story about how she had just had her dad’s memorial service and why don’t we talk more about death? No one ever talks about death!
A friend of mine runs an amazing bookstore in NYC and she sent me a podcast recently, Brené Brown interviewing Viola Davis. Viola talks about her father dying and says the same thing: why don’t we ever talk about death? We’re all gonna do it and nobody ever talks about it.
I talk about it a lot. I’m pretty sure I was born to talk about it, actually. I had a brief taste of it when I was 21, hurtling through the darkness after a car hit me. I recall, almost comically, thinking … I wonder if this is death?
I have tried, at different points in my life, to disappear, which, when you’re in the thick of it is kind of like wanting to die. Bulimia when I was a teenager, drinking when I was an adult. Major failures that only made the problems I was trying to disappear from worse. I wasn’t a very good bulimic because I loved eating, but I was a very good alcoholic … because I loved drinking!
This week I celebrate 11 years of sobriety, which is not what I came here to talk about, but I still think it’s pretty f-ing cool that I managed to stop drinking and to stay that way. I will high-five myself on that later this morning when Coco and I stop at L.A. Burdick, the most amazing chocolatier, not far from here, in New Hampshire. We’re headed to Maine for a few days for a little mother-daughter canoodling by the sea. She’ll surf, I’ll watch. We’ll both slurp some oysters and I’ll revel in the waning days of my daughter here with me.
We have a history of going to the sea together.
Only this time she has her own car and we can share the driving.
Let’s circle back around to death and dying.
I have this dream I call Ghost Ranch. It’s a place where we do end-of-life care really well. No endless charting because there’s no government funding. When I worked as a hospice chaplain I loved the work itself, being with the people transitioning out of here, but the driving and record-keeping fully took up two-thirds of my time. It was nuts, not a sustainable model, and, needless to say, there’s high level of burn-out because of that.
Ghost Ranch is a place where people who are dying can be peaceful. There is room for friends or family to stay. There are horses and a swimming pool and gardens. The living spaces are not clinical, nor are they cheesy with doilies and fake flowers; they’re beautiful.
At Ghost Ranch we hold workshops where we talk about death and dying from every angle. We educate people on all their options. We give everyone space to say what needs to be said and to die with grace. It looks good and smells good and it’s comforting to be there, like summer camp.
I feel confident that one day someone with a lot of money will think this is a great idea and we will break ground on a new model for death and dying in our culture. I’m waiting patiently for that moment.
In the meantime … I want to invite your questions and curiosities. Having been both a hospital and hospice chaplain, having spent a great deal of time in nursing care facilities and having made myself available for spiritual channeling and grief work , I am able to give insights into the great mystery we call death. I don’t like that word at all but that’s another story for another time.
You can query me in the comments section so others can see your questions, or you can send email me at melissa519@me.com and I will get back to you privately. If there is someone specific in spirit you wish to connect with, just drop me a line and we can work that out.
Lots of love out there today. Be kind to yourself and others, please. xomo
Melissa, I live nearby and keep having people tell me I need to connect with you! I'm trained as a death doula and hospice volunteer and am chipping away at a funeral director's education so that I might get to the dream of establishing a conservation burial ground in Londonderry. Found your blog and think I might find myself in church sometime soon :)
My miss spelling, …should be too many. Not Motown.