As we move through the holiday season and head into the New Year, our society sends the message loud and clear: this is a time to rejoice, spread good...
Actor Paul Walker, the star of 'Fast & Furious,' a movie series about fiery car crashes, just died in a fiery car crash. Death, always, sucks. But an ironic death? Even worse. I hope to die doing something totally unremarkable. Dusting the bookshelves. Walking the dog. Soaking in the tub.
When I think of a world without our beloved Mandela, I imagine how empty it will feel without his great intellect and incredible gift.
Advanced illness is unfortunately an aspect of life. While our culture no longer whispers the name of serious conditions such as cancer, we far too often go silent on the subject of dealing with a disease that is likely to take the life of someone we love.
I want to walk around with a big sign that says, "I am in mourning, handle with care." I lost my husband, my best friend and my soul mate, all rolled into one.
I've been thinking about Kade a lot lately, about what his story means and how, at only 16, he'd died as a result of other people's ignorance and violence. What might have happened to us if he had made it? What might he have made of his life? I don't know.
Companion yourself. Care for yourself. Listen. Reach out where it feels good to reach, curl in when that is what you need. Make this season as much of a comfort to you as you can. And when it is not a comfort, know we're here. All these other grieving introverts: We get you. We understand.
When life unravels, we're all that seed needing to trust that the darkness we're residing in temporarily, will in the end move us towards our next fertile direction.
I hate mornings. I hate waking up and having to leave the confines of a warm, comfortable bed. I hate having to be cheerful for those who happily refer to themselves as "morning people" and by whom I seem to be surrounded. I am one of those people who has to slowly and quietly ease back into consciousness. For crying out loud, I was even born at night. I am the Anti-Morning.
I visited my mother just a few months before she passed; that was about two years ago now. We went out to dinner in a restaurant attached to a casino....
And so I dread the possibility that one of her friends will ask me the dating question since I'll never be able to give them the answer they want to hear. At the same time, I do find some comfort in these conversations because I know that they're just trying to look after me in her absence.
Every now and then I hear a story that touches me. Dan, my husband, had an old friend in town from Wisconsin. I knew his friend's father was home un...
As a bereaved parent -- for my own daughter and now for the daughter-of-my-heart -- I know and trust St. Augustine's words to be true. For you see, I have no doubt that Sarah was holding out her hand to meet Ashley on that path, and they are best friends together again.
Olivia Bareham is a death midwife. Just as a birth midwife helps bring someone into this world, a death midwife helps them depart from it. Bareham's mission in life is to change the way we think about death.
These five suggestions represent a place to begin as you contemplate the meaning of your own existence. But remember that life is a journey with many detours and distractions along the way.
As we share deeply with others, we broaden our horizons and bridge the gap of our otherwise very private inner worlds. Instead of giving each other an airbrushed version of ourselves, we risk the vulnerability of letting others know who we most profoundly know ourselves to be.
Who knows what to say when someone dies? Often, not knowing what to say, we put off writing the note and eventually don't say anything. The intention to write is there, but what to say isn't easy or obvious.
In preparation for Transgender Day of Remembrance, those who celebrate and survive may draw from ancient traditions of world cultures that meditate on death as a way that the living can not only mourn but embrace a deeper gratitude for life itself -- both the lives of those lost and our own.
How sad to live in a lie at the end of one's life. How sad to risk regrets, not realizing the blessings that come with the alternative -- a depth of intimacy that we may never have experienced before and that will never be available again.
Death reaches us in different ways, at different times of our lives. Some funerals might call for a piñata donkey, others for a sexy selfie in the bathroom. Do not stand at my grave and weep, goes the line. It's okay to weep, though. It's also okay to laugh. Honestly, what else can you do?