Guest post written by Lisa Hartley
I am life-cycle Celebrant skilled in guiding families through big life transitions and a geek about all things nourishing, and inspirational around death and dying. In my experience it’s the simple things, that we come to instinctively that support us.
Yesterday, my dear dog Honey reached the end of her days. My daughters came by to sit with her, and snuggle, I had a nap on the lawn with her, we cried and we held her, and we said good bye. Later in the day, their partners joined us, and after the vet left, we buried her in the back yard then we went for pizza at the beach. It felt complete.
This morning, I woke up settled, I took some flowers to her little grave, watched the hummingbirds and drank my morning coffee, and while tired, I felt like she was taken care of.
Frustratingly, it’s not so simple with our humans. We don’t know what to do. Many of our people request cremation – just scatter my remains… (you can fill in the blanks here). Maybe they want to be in the garden (I’ve recently learned that cremains are too alkaline for our gardens), their favourite spot at the beach (where others are sunbathing?) or holiday location (how do I get everyone there?). One client jokingly requested the top of the Lion’s just outside of Vancouver.( ask me how we solved this one!) My parent’s ashes were in the back of the family van for years until we figured out what to do; eventually we rented a boat, put them in the water in front of the family home, then put a bench in the park nearby, beautiful BUT it took years to get to a place of agreement. So many things get in the way: municipal by-laws, family politics, busy lives, and discomfort with the unknown. There isn’t a precedent for most families. We don’t necessarily know how to do this.
Recently my cousin died. His immediate family lives all over British Columbia. The Celebration of Life was hosted by friends, in the city my cousin lived in; there was a huge amount of travel for everyone, one cousin drove 30 hours straight to be there. His death, 5 months earlier was a stressful time, and the Celebration of Life was long, and emotional, and for me, a wee bit overwhelming. It was a full day. His immediate and extended family came together for the first time in many, many years. I felt rattled and exhausted and somehow incomplete when it was all over.
The next day, at a quiet brunch, I got a text “we’re scattering his ashes….now…” could I come? The family was at a nearby lake, my cousin loved. When I arrived, there were about 12 family members sitting on the public dock, on a small lake in the sunshine. (There were also two other couples sitting on the public dock, minding their own business.)
I asked if I could lead us all in a ceremony, and what they needed. They wanted to acknowledge another family member who had just died, take turns speaking and putting the ashes in the water, and sing a song his mom loved. I’d brought rosemary for remembrance and a poem that was read when he died and at the Celebration of Life the day before.
Perfect.
We stood in a semi-circle, with the edge of the dock, with his ashes flowers completing our circle. The rosemary (for remembrance) was shared around. I clapped my hands, invited everyone to take a deep breath and notice the beauty that surrounded us. I spoke of what we were here to do, mentioned the other family member, and invited people to speak or not speak, and to say good-bye as they saw fit. We took turns, going to the edge of the dock, saying good-bye, and releasing some of the ashes into the water (respectful of the wind). We supported and witnessed one another in our mutual loss.
When that felt complete, I paused, and we read his poem, sang his song, and then I spoke once more, reminding us of what just happened.
“We’ve said good-bye and released his ashes into the lake where he loved to swim, and when we return home, we carry his memories in our hearts” Earlier we handed out the rosemary as a tactile reminder to take home. I offered the final words and clapped my hands to indicate we were done (a bell or blowing out a candle or even walking away does the same thing.) we hugged and headed off in our different directions… and I felt complete. I felt a huge relief, a sense of completion, of having taken care of him. The family was deeply grateful, and I could see the sense of relief on his Mother’s face. Hard as it was, the job was done.
Scattering the ashes, putting them in the ground, burying someone, is an important part of the process of “laying someone to rest”. Many families have ashes in their homes, for years, as they just don’t know what to do with them.
Yet, it is my favourite ceremony. The committal is both profound and simple. Here we are, here is the last physical piece of our person. We have taken care of them, and we know where to visit. There is often a powerful sense of completion, when it is finished.
It doesn’t take long. You don’t need to cater it, find speakers, or even rent a hall. Usually, it is just the inner circle who attend, it can be done.
What is holding you back?
Reach out if I can help. You are welcome to a simple phone call. I’m happy to meet with your family just to discuss how you can put the ceremony together. As a ceremony specialist, I am also available to stand with you as you put your person to rest.
A published Author and Master Celebrant, Lisa Hartley has spent the last 11 years crafting ceremony for families, couples, parents, businesses.
Since the pandemic she has focused on grieving clients, providing funerals, celebrations of life, graveside services, ash scatterings and support for DIY ceremony creation, both online and off. Her work is supported by a deep meditation practise, training in facilitation, and hospice grief work.
A west coast girl, her first experience with death was walking with her Mom to the end of her life, in the family home in Saanich, B.C. in 1999.
Just as she was blessed with a loving Mom who taught her about life, her Mom taught her the gift of caring for someone you love as they die. Recently released, Love and Salt Air helps others as they learn about loss.