A woman came to the support gatherings I facilitate after losing her husband of 60 years. They met in high school and were together from then on. After his death, her life was very different and she wanted to reconcile, a word which from its roots means make good again. This woman courageously allowed herself to feel the grief on the way to this reconciliation. At first she was present in the support gatherings and took it all in. We talked about different ways to embrace a new life – my “4-3-2-1-! of Hope, Healing and Wholeness,” www.kochfuneralhome.com. Over time, I could see more light in her spirit. One day she approached me after a meeting and said she had just spent two days experiencing the love she and her husband shared. How could that be? Love is eternal.

In my work I have the honor of helping families create personalized and meaningful memorial services.  Several years ago a couple who I will call Bill and Carol asked me to create a service for Carol who was terminally ill.  I’ll never forget walking into their home, having a seat on their couch and chatting with Bill as we waited for Carol to join us. Knowing Carol’s diagnosis in advance I was prepared, but unsure in what condition she would be. A few minutes later Carol slowly entered the room pulling her oxygen tank along with her. Smiling, she gently sat down in a soft chair. It was obvious the walk from the bedroom to the living room had been tiring and I wondered how long Carol would be able to participate in our conversation.  ​​​​​​​

My husband and I recently celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary with six hours of hiking on the trails in Cook Forest State Park. Which is one of the best possible ways for me to spend a day –communing with Mother Nature. As we walked along in this scenic Natural National Landmark, I was struck not only by its beauty, but also by what made up its beauty. In its “Forest Cathedral,” we were among old growth timber, the majestic white pines and hemlocks towering over us. We were also among the white pines and hemlocks that were no longer towering over us, but were instead lying around us, dead, broken, and in pieces. It was all part of the beauty of the great outdoors, life and death.

In my role as a spiritual director and celebrant I work with people whose loved ones have died.  One woman lost her husband of many years and was journeying her way through the grief for months, but still felt very stuck.  She felt stuck because she didn’t know what to do with the urn containing her husband’s cremated remains. Although he had a terminal illness and they both knew he was going to die, they hadn’t finalized his funeral plans and final resting place.  She was living with the urn in her house, unsure what to do with it. She was stuck in the logistics of the process and was therefore stuck in her grief.

I recently officiated at a funeral service for a long time State College resident.  The family’s desire was to create a small and intimate experience. We gathered in a circle and I shared pieces of her life to our group of about 15 people.  Then, at the request of the family, I asked each person to say their name and how they knew this woman and her family. It was beautiful. The participants told how she had become a part of their life, and the family learned more about how their loved one had touched others.  It was simple, personalized and meaningful.

On August 18, 1975, 27 year-old Paula D’Arcy and her husband were driving home to Connecticut after visiting with her family in Massachusetts. Their visit was to share the happy news of their second pregnancy. Their almost 2-year-old daughter was in the car with them.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a drunk driver crossed the divided interstate highway at 97 miles per hour and slammed into their car. Both Paula’s husband and daughter died from the accident. Seven years later, Paula had the opportunity to see the man who killed her family members and realized she had forgiven him. Paula is now a writer and speaker who travels the world sharing her story of faith and love.  

“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?”  I love this question and have often asked it of myself and others. It delves into a basic concept--Do you trust yourself?  If you trust yourself, you’re only as old as you’re feeling that day. If you don’t trust yourself, you’re as old as the calendar says.

Oh, the wonderful things Mr. Brown can do!

He can go like a cow.

He can go MOO MOO.

Mr. Brown can do it.

How about YOU?

When I go on a retreat, I make sure I spend part of it in silence. Something as simple as greeting another person becomes a whole new experience. Instead of a head full of thoughts about what to say and how to respond, you simply look at the others and smile. Without the distraction of words, you are given the opportunity to really look them in the eyes and they you. In the silence the connections become even stronger. I remember feeling so much compassion for these “strangers.”

Our lives are full of transitions – going from here to there, one place to another, one task to another, one activity to another. And those are just in one day. Add to that the major transitions from one stage of life to another, from one job to another, from one city to another, and ultimately from life to death. How do we honor those many transitions in a healthy way?

One way is through ritual.