My parents are buried in a concrete-lined vault, with a tombstone that lies flat to the earth...
As I’ve written before, I’m a Deathling, a member of the Order of the Good Death, and what’s called “death positive.” It’s not a phrase I’m wild about, but calling myself a “Deathling” makes even less sense to people, “into death” is even less helpful or accurate.
In the last couple months, I’ve found myself traveling with death and grief, from the loss of a kindred spirit I never knew to the death of my father after decades of illness.
Reflections on the death of Rachel Held Evans and what her work meant to me.
Books on the anthropocene, race, white supremacy, nuclear war, pacifism, and more.
I am an information scientist. Wolfram Alpha, tell me how many days my mother lived. I am the young woman in a fairy tale. Wolfram Alpha, tell me the day I'll die.
Reflecting on writing my own death plan. I introduce the Order of the Good Death, talk about what a death plan is compared to a will/living will, and talk a bit about my own.
Wednesday, the 27th, is the one year anniversary of losing my mom. It’s been a rough year for our family, but we’ve made it through. I’m no longer crying regularly…so that’s an improvement, right?
Mom was only 65 when she died and had been facing terminal cancer for more than 5 years. Yet up until the last 6 months or so, when she started truly dying, she did her best to live as full a life as she could.
On Sunday afternoon, I got out of the shower to find Micah waiting for me. “Your dad called,” he said, “It sounds important. Call him back.” When I called my dad, he told me that the nurses said I should come home. They thought Mom had days, it was possible she had a week or two, but I should probably come home now.
Fortunately, I’d saved up leave time and I’d talked to my bosses about the possibility that I might be called away suddenly.