Fairhaven Blog

When I set out to find a guest blogger to discuss Catholicism, Googling grief and Catholicism brought up the name David P. Deavel. I clicked the links and read some posts and realized that I'd found a gem, a writer who could combine personal experiences with theological information in a post that touched the emotions of readers. When Dave agreed to write for us, I was very excited and today, reading the post, I'm amazed. It's a perfect fit for this series and even if you are not Catholic, if you have lost a loved one, you will feel as if Dave knows just what you've gone through. ~ Charity Gallardo, Blog Coordinator

Disclaimer: The religious information contained in these guest blog posts are the beliefs of the guest blogger and in no way reflect Fairhaven's endorsement of any particular religion.

Catholic Grief: A Circle Unbroken by David Paul Deavel

When I became a Catholic at the age of 23 the topic of grief was not particularly on my mind.  At 23 you still half-believe in your own personal physical immortality (particularly if you are a male).  My conversion came as a result of falling in love with the “symphony” of truth found in the Catholic Church—the paradoxical way in which Catholicism incorporated all the disparate elements of truth found in the rituals and theologies of other forms of Christianity and indeed other religions.  One of my mottos was the great English Catholic writer G. K. Chesterton’s observation, “Catholicism is the trysting place of all truths.”

But when my mother developed cancer a year later I was forced to learn that nowhere is this paradoxical character more evident than in the Catholic approach to death and grief.

This paradoxical nature, Catholics claim, comes directly from the very foundations of Christianity.  Jesus of Nazareth, building upon the preaching of the Hebrew prophecies, proclaims to his audience that the Kingdom of God is both here and now and . . . is coming soon.  His resurrection from the dead is the definitive sign that for human beings, death is no longer the last word.  Various cultures and religions have claimed that the soul survives death, but the Christian claim is startlingly new.  It’s not just that you will exist as a lonely soul floating around in a dark, dank land of the dead, as so many of the ancient civilizations believed.  It’s that you will be given a new and imperishable body.  Your dead body, says St. Paul, echoing Jesus himself, is like a kernel of wheat “buried” in the ground.  The transformation that takes place from seed to plant is like that from an earthly body to a heavenly resurrected body.  In view of this reality, St. Paul writes to the infant Church gathered at the Greek city of Corinth, quoting the Hebrew Prophets Isaiah and Hosea: “’Death is swallowed up in victory.’  ‘O death, where is they victory? O death where is thy sting?’”(I Corinthians 15: 54-5).

And even before that marvelous day of the final Resurrection, it is still true, says St. Paul, that to be “away from the body” is to be “at home with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8)—and is thus a good thing.  Thus, one side of the argument, and a strong one at that, echoing down through the centuries, is that death is indeed a good thing, something to be celebrated and not grieved.  The Mass is itself a memorial not just of Christ’s death but also his resurrection.  “We are a resurrection people,” said St. Augustine (354-430) in one of his homilies. The significance of death is that one has entered into the presence of God and is now preparing for the resurrection.

From this side of the picture grief could be seen as something somewhat suspicious, a sign that perhaps one loved the present life more than the heavenly one to come, or perhaps that one loved the deceased more than God himself.  Better to take the attitude of the thirteenth-century saint Francis of Assisi and refer fondly to “Sister Death.”  Yet there was always another side.

St. Paul’s words about death swallowed up in victory were themselves in the context of his own preaching about the completion of the Kingdom of God which Jesus said was both here and coming.  “The last enemy to be destroyed,” St. Paul writes, “is death” (I Cor. 15: 26).  Death is to be destroyed, but unfortunately it isn’t dead yet.  And as it isn’t swallowed up in victory yet, it is still particularly difficult to swallow.  If Catholics profess to experience the reality of Jesus’ resurrection here in this life, we also experience the reality of his death in the deaths of our loved ones.  So grief has a place.  Even if those loved ones “have gone to a better place,” we who are left have not.  And our love for them must enter into the same mysterious sphere as faith—something that we do without the comfort of sight.  Grief is not a sign of superficiality or weakness of faith.  Instead, we mourn in faith because we recognize that the loss is real and deep.

This was no simple theoretical matter, either.  Medieval people were especially attached to the necessity of the imitation of Christ the Lord.  Upon finding his friend Lazarus dead, St. John’s Gospel tells us, “He wept” (John 15:35).  He wept despite the fact that he preached the final resurrection of the dead.  He wept despite the fact that he knew he would raise Lazarus from the dead that day if only to temporarily extend his earthly life.  If Jesus the Lord of Life could grieve, his followers reasoned, then so could they.

Yet if grief was a legitimate reaction to death, it had to be a particular kind of grief.  Writing of the resurrection in another place, St. Paul writes that this reality should affect our reactions to our beloved dead, “that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope” (2 Thessalonians 4:13).  Catholic grief must be shot through with hope of the resurrection of our beloved.

Of course everything I’ve said thus far could probably describe most Christians and their attitudes.   But what I learned when my mother died of cancer at the, by today’s standards, comparatively young age of 63 was that there were several elements of the Catholic approach to grief that were particularly helpful and that made my experience of grieving my mother slightly different from the grief I endured when losing my two grandmothers and a beloved aunt in the few years before Mom died.

First, the distinctive teachings of the Catholic Church, purgatory and the continuing connection of the dead to the living, made a world of difference.  My Protestant friends complain that purgatory denigrates the work of Christ in saving us, making salvation something Christ doesn’t really accomplish, but simply makes possible.  This theological error, they say, results in a psychological block to our grief:  we can’t say that our loved ones’ suffering is over and thus we cannot really grieve properly since they aren’t really in a better place.  But my friends mistake the theological nature of purgatory.  It is simply the continuing work of Christ in sanctifying (making holy) people whom he has saved, not those people making up for Christ’s shoddy work.   My friends also mistake what it means for grieving loved ones.

What Catholic teaching about purgatory gives the mourner is something to say and something to do.  No one ever knows quite what to say to mourners.  “She’s in a better place” can seem hollow, as C. S. Lewis commented in his marvelous A Grief Observed.   “I’m sorry” is always good.  But what a number of my non-Catholic relatives and friends observed to me was that they appreciated how my Catholic friends could say “I’m sorry” but also, “I’ll be praying for her” or “I’ve had a Mass said for her” or “We’ll pray the Rosary for you.”  It is, my relatives said, a wonderful testimony to the Catholic belief that our beloved dead are beyond our sight, but not beyond our reach.  Purgatory means for grief that when we believe in hope that our loved ones have joined Christ we are also capable, in our union with Christ in prayer, of still helping them along as they are made finally and fully their truest and best selves in Christ.

It’s not just a one-way street.  What many friends often say and half-believe, that our loved ones still “look down” and “take care of us” is something that Catholics believe is literally true.  Saints (those who’ve made it all the way into heaven) and those still being cleansed in purgatory do not pray for themselves: they pray for us.  What details they know of our lives is a mystery nobody can know, but the fact that they still look down on us and pray for us is a comfort.  This strong belief and the help it gave to me was another thing friends and relatives commented on.

Finally, the beliefs about the two-way connection between us and our beloved dead meant something for me as I dealt with my own grief.  They helped me realize the truth that mourning and grief are not something that end with the funeral.  And the practices associated with those beliefs both reinforced this truth and provided a means for living out those beliefs.  Early Christians celebrated the funeral Mass as a memorial and a plea to God to fulfill his promises and “complete the good work that he began” generally on the third day after death.  This was symbolic of the identification of the Christian with Christ who was raised on the third day.  But this tradition was complemented in various other Churches by Memorial Masses variously on the 7^th, 9^th, 30^th, and 40^th days after death, as well as on the anniversaries of death.

My kids, even the ones who didn’t know her, still have her as part of daily life. We remember her death every July 25^th but also daily at mealtimes when we add to our blessing, “God bless Grandma Deavel. . .and may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.”  She still loves us, we still love her.  And I don’t have to “get over” my grief any time soon.  I can let it blossom in its complicated way ever further into deeper love and hope.

David Paul Deavel is associate editor of Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture and contributing editor for Gilbert Magazine.

Heidi Telpner has blogged for us before on the topic of grief. As a hospice nurse and author, Heidi has a lot of information to impart on this subject. However, today she's coming at the topic from a different angle as she shares information on grief and Judaism.

Disclaimer: The religious information contained in these guest blog posts are the beliefs of the guest blogger and in no way reflect Fairhaven's endorsement of any particular religion.

If you’re looking for certainty, you’ve come to the wrong religion. At least when it comes to death – Judaism offers you no guarantee. In Judaism, comfort is to be found in ancient ritual and community, not faith and salvation. We don’t spend much time discussing heaven. As my father says, he can be a Jew and an atheist at the same time. I think what he means is this – Judaism is focused on life, not death. It’s less a religion than a way of life.

I’d like to say we don’t worry about what we can’t know – heaven - and what we can’t control – death - but that would be a lie. Of course we worry. We’ve wondered about the meaning of life and death since ancient times. In the book of Job, one of the oldest books of the Hebrew Bible, when Job bewails all the many evils that have befallen him, he raises the question – how can a God who is good and just allow evil? Of course God never answers Job’s question, instead he poses his own questions (King James Version) – “Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? … Have the gates of death been revealed unto thee? … Or hast thou seen the gates of the shadow of death?” In other words, things of God are beyond our human understanding.

So how do we deal with death? We surround ourselves with ritual, family and friends. For instance, a Jew must be buried before the next sunset. This is why as a Jew, Jesus’ body had to be removed from the cross and hurriedly placed in a makeshift tomb.

Generally, Jewish people are not embalmed and most Jews are buried in a simple pine box, for from dust we were formed and unto dust we return. We sit ‘shiva’ or seven. For seven days, the family of the deceased does not work or go about a normal routine. Instead, the family receives visitors and guests who come to express condolences, provide comfort and honor the deceased. Many families cover all the mirrors in their house during this period. The modern reason given is that family members should avoid vanity and keep their thoughts focused on God. The more ancient reason is that it was once thought mirrors could confuse the soul on his way to heaven, so they were kept covered.

Ehow.com has an easy guide to the ritual of sitting shiva. (Click HERE to read it.)

Jews follow other ancient customs, such as the tearing of a garment, and Jewish funeral homes usually provide the mourners with a ribbon or piece of cloth that can be torn instead of clothing. A parent is mourned for thirty days, a child for an entire Hebrew year, and a memorial prayer is recited for the deceased every year on the anniversary of his or her death.

We have a specific prayer for the dead, the Kaddish, which is recited not only by the family, but by any member of the Jewish community who wishes to participate. This helps the family feel less isolated and alone in their grief. Interestingly enough, this prayer isn’t for the soul of the deceased; rather it’s for the glorification of God, the giver of life and death.

If you ever visit a Jewish cemetery, you’ll find small, inconspicuous headstones over the graves. And chances are you’ll find tiny piles of pebbles left on the headstones. This is a custom leftover from Roman times. We leave the pebbles as a mark of respect for the deceased, and to let them know they are not forgotten. Life is very important to us; we cherish the memories of our ancestors.

If you have a Jewish friend or co-worker who passes away, visiting with the family in those first seven days will mean the world to them.

Heidi Telpner is author of One Foot in Heaven, available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com. Heidi accidentally stumbled into nursing twenty-seven years ago and she never stumbled out. She's been a hospice nurse for the last nine of those twenty-seven years. Her initial training was as a midwife. She now midwifes her patients out the other end of life. Ms. Telpner and her husband live on the West Coast. They have three children, a dog, three cats, two birds and one lucky koi.

About One Foot in Heaven:

People die everyday. While most people in America die in a hospital, many families choose hospice for end of life care. Death, as experienced by hospice nurses, can be beautiful, peaceful, humorous, touching, tragic, disturbing, and even otherworldly. Hospice nurses act as midwives to dying people every day. Death transforms not just the patient and family, but the hospice nurse as well. The stories in this book are presented with the hope that their transformation extends to you, too.

Today, we continue our series on grief, faith and culture with a guest post from Fairhaven Family Service Counselor and Christian pastor, Jim Bogosian. Jim talks about a personal loss he suffered and how, as a Christian, his faith sustained him. As you will see, Jim's faith is very important to him and he used it to supply answers when his family suffered a tragedy.  Every day, the promises and teachings of his faith help him live with his loss and give him hope.

Disclaimer: The religious information contained in these guest blog posts are the beliefs of the guest blogger and in no way reflect Fairhaven's endorsement of any particular religion.

I will never forget April 17^th, 1990.  What started out as just another ordinary day turned out to be an extraordinary life-altering day.  Having not fully recovered from strep throat, that morning my wife and I took our first child, our daughter Elisabeth, who was 8 years old at the time, to our pediatrician.  Later that day, we entered a new world as together we stepped onto the oncology floor at Children’s Hospital, Los Angeles.

After waiting for what seemed an eternity to hear the results of a bone marrow test, we sat with an oncologist who told us that our daughter had a kind of leukemia that without treatment would take her life in two to three months!  So began our ten-month journey with our beautiful daughter who until then had been perfectly healthy...down a road we certainly hadn’t anticipated when we held her in our arms as a newborn.  Ten months later, we stood over her grave at a committal service at Forest Lawn in Hollywood Hills.

We had experienced what many have called the most traumatic, most profound, most overwhelming,  most inconsolable of losses.  For us—unprecedented pain, loss, sorrow, and grief.  What we had believed to be true, as part of our Christian faith—the Biblical truths that we had grown up learning and that as a pastor I had taught to my church week after week—were put to the test.  Through it all, and day-by-day for twenty years since our Elisabeth’s death, we have been enabled by God to live in and be enlarged by loss...to find healing, comfort, and recovery...and to experience new beginnings.  God’s promise, we have found, is true:  “No test that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face.  All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).  We have run for our very lives to God, grabbed the promised hope with both hands and found an unbreakable spiritual lifeline.

This lifeline is what the Bible calls “grace,” the “Amazing Grace” we sing about and that God freely gives to those who relinquish their self confidence and self will and put their trust in Jesus Christ, choosing to pursue his way of living and submit to his leadership.  God’s full provision, his supply, his mercy—that which we can never earn and do not deserve—is gifted to us who believe to meet our every need.

At the times when we were without our own resources and ability to cope, we took hold of God’s “grace resources” that are promised to all Christians.  Here are some:

Biblical understanding—the awareness that we live in a fallen world order (so that we could accept life in a broken world rather than challenge what is);  the knowledge that God is perfectly good, loving, faithful, kind (so that, we could reflect on what God is like—instead of focusing on the pain of our loss and feeling confused and angry at God);  the understanding that God rules over all (so that when it looks and feels like things are out of control, we can choose to submit our lives and circumstances to God);  the knowledge that God is the only one who can bring good out of what is bad gave us hope for the future.

Encouraging examples—Stories from the Bible and from history of those who endured losses—people who trusted God in their afflictions, loved him with their whole being, and obeyed him. Their examples have kept us going, their songs have encouraged us, their poetry has given us language to express our complaints, pain, hope (Psalms), their stories have provided perspective.

God’s presence and promises—The Christian can be confident of God’s presence and can draw on his promises in the Bible.  Countless times when we felt fearful and vulnerable, we held on to the promise of his presence with us (e.g. “God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’  So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.’” Hebrews 13:5,6;  “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” Psalm 23:4).

Supportive relationships—In our darkest days we came to value more than ever the care and support of the Christian community.  Many hundreds prayed for us, wrote to us, called us, visited us, took care of our two other kids (a 5 year old and a 2 year old); provided meals for us.  And almost every day people of faith came to the hospital or to our home and cried with us, prayed with us, encouraged us, held us, played with us...

Hope for the future—There is no more sad place on earth than a grave site.  As a pastor, I’ve stood over many open graves watching families say their last goodbyes to their loved ones, tears streaming down their faces...  The most heartbreaking was when my wife and I had to bury our daughter.  But it is against the black backdrop of death that the light of the Christian message shines most radiantly and means the most.  Because Jesus Christ offered his life for us on the cross and came out of the grave alive, the person who trusts in him is forgiven and assured of eternal life in heaven.  So when a follower of Jesus dies, the part of us we cannot see—the spirit/soul—immediately goes to be with the Lord in heaven.

In the middle of our grief, we were able to rejoice knowing that when our Elisabeth took her final breath here on earth, she stepped into the presence of God in heaven!  And someday when Jesus returns to the earth, the bodies of those who have died in Christ will be raised / transformed, and a new world order will be established.  That day every wrong will be made right, sorrow will be turned into joy, darkness into light, brokenness into wholeness, loss into gain.   This “good news” is promised by God himself in the Bible, verified by Christ’s empty grave!

My wife and I would have no comfort if we had no hope of ever seeing our precious daughter, Elisabeth, again.  But because of Christ we’re going to heaven and we will see her again.  We’ll be able to hug her, kiss her, talk with her, laugh with her, and together enjoy the life that God has planned for us in the world to come!  Each day that passes, we’re one day closer to that great day!  In the meantime, every day as we walk with Jesus we can live in his peace, joy, and purpose!

How many funerals, visitations and wakes have you been to where the casket has been open and the deceased on display for all to see? I know that within my own family on my mother's side, open caskets were practically mandatory at every funeral and/or visitation. But every family's preference is different and sometimes circumstances are such that an open casket is not possible. And sometimes it is the family's traditions and faith that dictate whether or not a casket should be open.

There are a variety of reasons people prefer to have an open casket. If you discount those who do it for religious reasons, when the determination of whether or not to do it becomes personal preference, many times the reason boils down to the grief of the family. For some, viewing their loved one in the casket helps them to accept the death and helps them to move on. For others, this ritual is seen as a sign of respect for the one who has passed. And in many cases, it is a chance for those left behind to say goodbye. This especially holds true if the person had not seen the decedent recently or if the decedent died very unexpectedly.

Four years ago, my daughter was awakened on her birthday with text messages.  The messages were not birthday wishes but news that a friend had been killed in a car accident. Understandably, my daughter was upset, perhaps more so because such a tragedy occurred on her birthday. She had not seen her friend recently, but she still felt the need to say goodbye. She went to the visitation, but there was no open casket because of the nature of the accident. My daughter wished she could have seen her friend, but understood why it was not to be. Even after all the time that has passed, she still wishes she could have seen her friend one last time.

The affects of not being able to see a loved one that final time can sometimes be felt for years afterward. Michael Alarcon, manager of Fairhaven Memorial Services, told me a story he does not often share with others.

"I was 18 when my grandfather passed away.  As a Catholic, we scheduled a Visitation and Rosary Recital to be held the evening before the Mass.  I was young, immature and unaware fully of the Catholic traditions; I chose to spend the evening of the Visitation and Rosary hanging out with my friends because I was certain that I would have an opportunity to view him in the morning at the Mass.

"I found out the next day at the Mass that the casket would be closed as the focus was on the Liturgy.  Twenty three years have passed since my grandfather died.  I still have an ache in my heart and wished I had been more aware of the Catholic tradition. I wished I taken the opportunity to view him when I had the chance."

For Michael, the dust of guilt now mars his memories of his grandfather's funeral. The last view, the last chance to say goodbye, had been lost.

When deciding whether or not to have a visitation or whether or not to attend one, you must think about what is important to you and how you will feel. It would not be beneficial to family members if you went to the viewing of a friend and were emotionally unable to deal with an open casket. And viewing is truly a personal preference as some people are afraid to view the dead.

For myself, it was never important to see the person in their casket. I viewed neither of my parents even though my siblings and friends of my parents did attend the viewing. I preferred that my last memories of them not be that of their body in the casket. My choice upset my sister, but I had to do what was right for me.

Growing up in a family that usually had open casket funerals, I had no problems with visitations as a child. However, caution should be exercised with regard to taking children to visitations as they may become frightened.  I remember when I was seven, my aunt Laura died. Her children arranged for a visitation, then a funeral and burial. Since Laura lived in Washington State and we lived in California, my mother had to race to get to the funeral. It was very important to my mother to see her sister one last time. She needed the closure. She needed to say goodbye and she had no qualms taking her seven year old along since I had been to other funerals.

Since we were driving, my mother was very afraid we would not make it to the funeral on time. The service was held in a small church in a very tiny town near where my mother was born. When my mother realized we would miss the funeral by an hour or so, she called her sisters and she asked that they hold the service for her. It was a story they all laughed about later that day at my Aunt Laura's wake, how the funeral service had been held so Mabel could make there from California.

To this day I remember my mother marching me and my two grown brothers up the aisle of the church to the front pew. We sat down and she told the preacher he could begin. After the service, she asked for the casket to be opened just for her so she could say goodbye. Everyone but my mother and her sisters left the church so the Mullins sisters could say goodbye to Laura.

That last chance to see Laura meant the world to my mother. She never forgot how her sisters made the preacher wait for her to arrive before starting the service and how the funeral director accommodated their wish to see Laura afterward. And as you can see, it is a story that remains bright in my memories of my mother and my aunt more than forty years after Laura's death.

The need to see your loved one a final time, to say goodbye, to find closure, to pay your respects or to see the proof that they are gone is something that in all ways affects the processing of your grief. Whether you choose to view someone or not is all part of dealing with grief and everyone must make the choice that is right for them.

Family Service Counselor Joseph Hartley Retires by Charity Gallardo, Accounting/Network Administrator

People come and go in your life. They are born and they die. They move away. And sometimes, they just retire.

In December, Fairhaven Family Service Counselor Joseph Hartley retired after seven years of serving from his heart. Both his co-workers and the families he served were sad to see him go, but happy for him at the same time.

In the years Joe worked at Fairhaven, he wrote over 1800 contracts. That is a lot of paperwork! And a lot of families that he worked with. He helped people pre-plan so that their family would not have to worry when they passed on. And he helped them with final arrangements when they lost someone. He guided them, counseled them, grieved with them, and helped them find the best ways of celebrating the life of their loved one.

Joe was an exemplary employee who won the Counselor of the Year twice and had also received at least one Employee of the Quarter award. Even though he and I had a bit of a rough beginning when he was still learning how to be a counselor, no one cheered louder when he won his first Counselor of the Year award. And the reason for that is because he won me over as a co-worker and friend by showing me how easy it is to make yourself over and choose your attitude daily.

He proves the adage that it’s easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar. Even when things went wrong with a contract and my prickly Accounting self got a tad crabby, Joe faced me down with smiles and humility. He was so nice about everything that I couldn’t be upset with what had gone all wrong on his contract. Anyone who can send my crabbiness packing is an amazing person!

I’m not the only person at Fairhaven who appreciated Joe’s warm personality. When Joe had to assist a co-worker with the death of a loved one, he treated her with as much compassion and caring as he did the other families who walk through Fairhaven’s doors. It is all too easy to think that those of us who work here are used to death. But Joe knew this wasn’t true as co-worker Ruth Velez recalls.

“Your interaction with your fellow co-workers is sometimes limited, especially if you are in different departments. However, I came to know Joe Hartley even before he worked for Fairhaven Memorial Park. He was the consultant who helped us when we converted over to an electronic time keeping machine.

“Yes, back then we still were punching the Fred Flintstone-drop-your-card-in-the-machine-so-it-will-stamp-it. Even then you could tell Joe cared for his clients and wanted to ensure they were happy with his services. Soon after we tossed the old time cards and began punching in our codes with the new digital clock, Joe came to work for Fairhaven. Even after joining Fairhaven, he helped us when we would have issues or questions about the new time clock. I knew he would be a good fit at Fairhaven.

“It wasn’t until 2008 that I experienced just what a good fit he was. I found myself in Joe’s office, not for any company issues, but needing his help with planning my beloved father’s funeral. It was then, when I myself needed Fairhaven’s services, that I realized the magnitude and impact Joe had, and for that matter, we all have with the families we are privileged to serve.

“Even though my father had pre-planned his funeral, Joe guided my family through the arrangement process making sure that what my dad had wanted was carried out. His calm manner was soothing to my mom and my entire family. I will always be grateful to Joe for helping me through that trying time. I have a greater appreciation for him and know he has touched many more families by serving from his heart.”

Fellow Family Service Counselor, Lou Carlson couldn’t agree more with Ruth. Lou’s remembrance of his time working with Joe recalls how much Joe enjoyed helping others and his own special brand of humor.

“My friend Joe is a wise man. He loves people, loves to help them, and he loves to comfort them. He found —and taught me — that the best way to help and comfort is to serve our families well at this time when they need us most. This is one of the chief lessons, among several, that I learned from Joe during his seven years at Fairhaven Memorial Park.

“The second lesson Joe taught me is the one about a sense of humor. You’ve got to have one! If you take your own life too seriously, you won’t be able to bear up under the weight of trying to help others.

“Joe’s humor was gentle, though he could put a fine edge to it when needed. Since we are friends, I was once the butt of one of his best jokes. At a counselor meeting, he was leading a game to test the skills of the other counselors. The theme of the game he invented was based on the TV show Jeopardy. There were six categories (but he only announced five before the meeting). When the game began, he unveiled the sixth category and it was ME! Each ‘answer’ under my heading got funnier and funnier and the last answer was a code. The only counselor who recognized that it was the European license plate number for my new car was a counselor from Sweden (where we bought the car). It was one of the funniest counselor meetings we’ve ever had.

“It has been an honor and pleasure to work with Joe Hartley. I hope he will be able to find the time in retirement to continue to serve Fairhaven families through advanced planning arrangements. And, of course, I hope that he will prosper and enjoy abounding health and happiness as he finds new people to help, comfort and serve.”

The impact that each of us makes in this world can often be seen in the way we are remembered when we move away, retire or die. The staff at Fairhaven miss Joe’s presence, his smiles and humor and the way he dealt with each family’s needs. His way of gently dealing with each situation in a manner respectful of the feelings of others made an impression on everyone, something Marla Noel, the President of the company knows very well.

“Working with Joe Hartley was always a pleasure. He is the consummate professional. If I had a friend who needed our services, I felt confident to have Joe assist them.

“As many of us know, humor is sometimes helpful during stressful times. At Fairhaven, we also know that proper words are very important and that our use of humor must be in response to something a family may say. Initiating humor is usually not a good practice, even with very close friends, as I found out.

“I was helping a friend after the loss of his best friend, his wife. I asked Joe to assist my friend and sat in during the arrangements. My friend made some humorous comments, and I mistakenly followed suit. I made a comment, thinking I would chime in on the humor, only to have my comment fall flat. It was the wrong thing to say at the wrong time.

“Thankfully, my friend ignored my comment, but as Joe looked down, completing the paperwork, I saw the top of his ears turn red. Later, he never mentioned the verbal mistake until I mentioned it. He was a true gentleman in my lesson about proper words.

“We talk a lot about proper words here and it is one of our credo essentials. I will always appreciate Joe’s use of discretion in my blunder. We have had a number of conversations about proper words since and it was comforting to know that Joe kept a list of what we should not say and what we should say in his jacket pocket and reviewed it before he met with families.

“I will miss working with Joe and will always appreciate his help and counsel.”

One of the families he worked with his last few months before retirement said, “Joe made sure everything was perfect.” In their feedback, the families reiterated the same words his co-workers mentioned.

Caring, considerate, professional, helpful.

One family in particular suffered two losses in as many months. They stated that Joe showed them amazing personal attention. He remembered them from their prior loss and was exceptionally kind and considerate of their situation.

As you can see, Joe Hartley may have retired from Fairhaven but his legacy of humor, compassion, and respect for others lives on in the memories of the people he worked with daily and the families whose lives he touched. We all wish him the very best as he steps into this next phase of his life.

You've suffered the loss of a loved one. Your friends and family are well meaning, but maybe you need some more private help, something you can do on your own to help cope. Here's a list of ten things you can do online to help ease your grief.

 1. Light a candle to your loved one at gratefulness.org.

2. Create a memorial web page.

3. Join an online grief club or support group or community.

4. Search for a local grief support group.

5. Search for books on grief: Amazon's Top Grief Books.

6. Create a memorial video to be viewed online.

7. View videos about coping with grief. 8. Join a Facebook grief group.

9. Chat with others in a grief chatroom.

10. Write about your loved one in a blog post or journal or subscribe to a blog that talks about loss and grief.

Not everything you do to ease your grief has to be public or shared with your family and friends. There are many things you can do privately, on your own with the help of your computer and the internet. You can find resources and answers to your questions as well as find out how other people cope with losing a loved one. Hopefully, the links here can help you in your time of need.    

Today’s post is by Lou Carlson, who has been a Family Service Counselor at Fairhaven Memorial Park for twenty years.

Dell Eastman had worked at Fairhaven Memorial Park and Mortuary for 20 years when I met him. He had begun work as a cemetery salesman, and when the mortuary was built be continued to serve families as an arrangement counselor. He had a warm and engaging smile, kind of bulgy eyes and he walked with a slight limp from years of standing and waiting (we do that a lot in cemetery service!). But he was a wonderful conversationalist because he asked questions. He wanted to know about you, he was genuinely interested in your life and story.

Dell had retired after 20 years. He thought he would enjoy life, relaxing at home. His wife, Ann, however had very different ideas and gave Dell a “honey-do” list every day. The list always included sweeping the garage floor and the front porch. (Dell detested pushing a broom!!) Dell returned to Fairhaven employment in less than a year!! He worked another ten years before he finally retired “for good”.

For ten years, after he returned to work, I watched Dell, who was now serving families as a service director. He was patient, courteous, polite and careful. We talked over lunch in the employee break room, at graveside services as we waited for the family to arrive and at the Elks Club, when Dell took me to lunch there. And most days, Dell came into my office (when I was not with a family) to chat. We became good friends. He had many friends at Fairhaven Memorial Park and in the community where he lived.

Then, a few weeks ago, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Dell for a while. I shrugged it off assuming that he might be visiting family, or something. I thought I’d drive by his home (he lives very near me) and see how he was doing. But I didn’t do it. I ignored the quiet voice in my heart that told me to visit him.

On Sunday, the phone rang at my home. Dell had died.

I was shocked, grieved at the death of a long time friend and guilty that I had not tried to visit him. If I had driven by his house I would have discovered that he was hospitalized, then in a nursing home, where he died. I was most saddened to learn that almost no one knew of his health situation, or had visited him during his last days and hours on earth.

Dell had asked me to officiate at his wife’s funeral a few years ago. After the services, he asked me to do the same thing at his (future) services, and I agreed. Twice at lunch at the Elks Club and once in my office, I interviewed Dell about his life. He told me his life story, he told me about Ann and their love, he told me about his military service in the Pacific theater of World War II, he shared many stories about serving families at funerals and of his love for California Lottery “Scratchers” (he bought many of them every day!!). And, he gave me a little gift. It was a card that read:

‘“A hug is the perfect gift – one size fits all and nobody minds if you exchange it.” (Ivern Ball)…. Dell Eastman.’

The staff atFairhaven, all who knew Dell, were stricken at the news of his passing. The ladies remembered Dell’s hugs – he loved to hug people (especially the ladies!). He was one of our own, and now, instead of standing beside the casket of a client, he was in his own casket. He was neatly dressed and looking younger than I had seen him in years. But the smile was gone, his eyes were closed, his hands were folded over his lap, his voice was stilled. Our co-worker, our friend was gone. Thousands of families whom he had served, had lost a memorable funeral counselor and service director. And we had all lost a dear friend.

At his funeral I told the story of his life, recounted his exploits during WWII, shared his love for Ann and gave everyone a personal copy of Dell’s “hug card”. Then, as the service ended, I asked the service directors to give to every guest a Lottery “Scratcher” card. It seemed a fitting way to conclude the services for a friend who had changed our lives with his smile, his hugs and his servant’s heart.

But Fairhaven Memorial Park will never be the same without him. Since his passing I have seen small groups of staff chatting about Dell, sharing memories and funny stories about him, wondering how many people remember him and how many staff never met him. Some were surprised, even shocked to learn that he had died. They had seen him recently – he seemed so well!!

There were some tears, some hugs and a quiet time.

All who work at a funeral home must deal with death and dying, directly or indirectly every day. We serve a mourning community. But it is in moments like these, when we must live through the death of a valued colleague, that we discover again how valuable our friends and family are. And how vulnerable we are to the emotions of grief and loss, when a co-worker dies.

Guest blogger, Heidi Telpner, Hospice RN

I don’t know if there is either a best time or a worst time to die. There’s just a time to die. As Ecclesiastes says regarding life and death, “To everything there is a season. A time to be born; a time to die.”

In Jewish tradition, it’s relatively common for practicing Jews to die just before or just after our most sacred holiday, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. My grandmother died a day after Yom Kippur.

In my hospice practice, I’ve found that many patients die close to an important event, a birthday, a wedding anniversary, at holiday time, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas, less so around Easter and Passover. I have no idea why this is the case. Perhaps it has something to do with natural seasonal rhythms, as the daylight hours grow short and the nights grow longer patients feel it’s a good time to go. I don’t know. It’s a mystery.

If you are a surviving spouse or parent or child, it doesn’t matter if death occurs during the holiday season or in the middle of August, you feel bereft. My mother-in-law passed away two years ago on Thanksgiving Day. Although she had been declining, it was still a shock. In an odd way, it’s become a blessing because for the past two Thanksgivings we’ve remembered the anniversary of her death, but more importantly, we’ve celebrated her life.

The fact that she died on Thanksgiving provides us with a guidepost, a place to stop our day to day activities and remember. We have an opportunity to tell her story when the family is gathered together. Yes, we miss her, but being together with other people who knew her provides comfort and solace. Sharing memories on a happy day, a day set aside to give thanks, makes her loss less painful. Talking about my mother-in-law can’t bring her back, but it imbues the holiday with her spirit.

I think the key is this - Holidays are sacred. This is time set aside, usually for spiritual reasons, to spend with those people we love and care about, the people closest to us. It’s easier to deal with death when we surround ourselves with the living, people who know us, people who care about us, and who understand our loss.

There is no perfect time to die. I’m guessing most of us wish that our world did not include death. However, during the holidays, families usually pull together. Every day means more than an ordinary day. Every day is an extraordinary day. At Christmas time we’re grateful for what we have rather than dwelling upon what we’ve lost. Perhaps this is why so many of my patients seem to pass away during the Christmas season.

When you lose a person you love, it’s hard to find comfort, even in tradition and ritual. Yet immersing yourself in tradition and ritual can provide a guidepost, a resting place. It’s like my mother-in-law’s passing. Her death felt raw at first, and it we felt guilty for celebrating on Thanksgiving. Now she’s in our hearts. Her passing at holiday time makes it easier for all of us to remember her life.

The feeling is bittersweet, but mostly sweet.

Heidi Telpner is author of One Foot in Heaven, available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com. Heidi accidentally stumbled into nursing twenty-seven years ago and she never stumbled out. She's been a hospice nurse for the last nine of those twenty-seven years. Her initial training was as a midwife. She now midwifes her patients out the other end of life. Ms. Telpner and her husband live on the West Coast. They have three children, a dog, three cats, two birds and one lucky koi.

About One Foot in Heaven:

People die everyday. While most people in America die in a hospital, many families choose hospice for end of life care. Death, as experienced by hospice nurses, can be beautiful, peaceful, humorous, touching, tragic, disturbing, and even otherworldly. Hospice nurses act as midwives to dying people every day. Death transforms not just the patient and family, but the hospice nurse as well. The stories in this book are presented with the hope that their transformation extends to you, too.

"I would say that "One Foot in Heaven" is more than a well-crafted memoir of a hospice nurse's professional life. It is more accurately, a truthful and artistic account of a women's spiritual awakening to the beauty that can be found in a world that is marred by mortality, by the sorrow of infinite loss.  - Patrick Damon McIntyre"

COPING WITH GRIEF DURING THE HOLIDAYS

Tis the season to be jolly, to deck the halls, to experience great joy with family and friends. Yet for some people, this holiday season may be a time of sadness, of grieving because of the loss of a loved one due to death or a broken relationship, the loss of a job, the lack of money to travel to be with family, the loss of a home, or the many other reasons people can feel pain during the holidays. Sometimes the grief is new and raw, other times, it’s old and familiar, although no less painful.

The contrast between the outward trappings of the holidays and your inner feelings of grief can be so great that people may not know how to get through the holidays. Many of their friends and family may not know how to support them.

People often avoid others who are grieving because they don’t know what to say or do to help. If you want to support someone who’s grieving, ask how best to comfort him. Does he want company? To talk about his loss to someone who will just listen?

Sometime the worst part of the holidays is the dread leading up to them. The actual day might not be as bad as you feared, and might, instead, be a good day—or at least parts of it are. A loss can make you focus on and feel grateful for who and what you do have. Therefore, it’s important to take some time during a holiday to appreciate the people who care about you.

Follow your intuition about how to celebrate the holidays. Don’t let someone else (no matter how well meaning) tell you what to do. Whether you celebrate or not, go away or stay home, simplify or go all out, should be up to you (although you need to take into consideration the needs of other family members.)

Have a family meeting to discuss traditions, finances, duties, and feelings. Given the limitations of time, energy, and money, figure out what will bring the most peace and satisfaction to all involved. Divvy up what each person will do.

Some family members might want to be part of a crowd because they don’t want to feel alone. Others will want some quiet time on the holiday. Neither choice is right or wrong. The personal preference needs to be respected. So if someone wants to go to her room or take a solitary walk in the midst of the chaos, then respect that. Or just invite friends and family over for a short time.

If you’re grieving, let people know ahead of time how you think you’ll be feeling and how they can best support you. For example, if you’re not up to cooking a big dinner, but would still like to get together, have everyone bring a dish. If you can only tolerate others for an hour instead of the whole day like normal, be clear about the time boundaries. Talk about how you’d like people to support you if you’re emotional. For example, do they give you a hug, pretend not to notice the tears running down your cheeks, or talk to you about shared memories?

Find ways to help others. No matter how much pain you’re in, giving to others can lift your spirits for a while, or at least give you a feeling of purpose. Sometimes seeing the plight of others put your troubles in perspective.

Even if you’re scraping the bottom of the financial barrel, you can still be of service. You help an elderly person put up (and take down) his or her holiday decorations, serve food at a soup kitchen, babysit a neighbor’s children so she can go Christmas shopping, clean out your closet and take your unneeded clothes and shoes to a shelter or other charitable organization. Shovel the snow from the walkway of an elderly or disabled person so he or she can get out. Visit a convalescent home or a veteran’s hospital to visit those who are often forgotten during the holiday.

Avoid excess alcohol. Eat fairly healthy. (It’s almost impossible to eat completely healthy. Besides you’d miss out on some of the fun.) Exercise, even if it’s going for a walk. Get as much sleep as possible. Take a good multi-vitamin/mineral supplement and extra vitamin C and D to keep your immune system strong. Take an Omega three supplement, such as Krill or Salmon oil to keep your brain healthy. Although this is good advice for everyone during the holidays, it’s especially important for those who grieve.

Debra Holland, M.S., Ph.D., is a psychotherapist and corporate crisis/grief counselor. She worked with American Airlines after 9-11, counseled victims of the Metrolink train wreck in 2002, volunteered as a mental health relief worker after Hurricane Katrina, and counseled victims during and after the 2008 California fires.

Dr. Debra is the author of the Essential Guide to Grief and Grieving which is available at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.

Grief strikes everyone--men and women, young and old, rich and poor--at some point in life. But knowing others have gone through similar emotions does little to lessen mourning when you’re reeling from loss. How do you cope with grief and work through it? How do you help a child or other loved one find the way back from their pain?

The Essential Guide to Grief and Grieving offers help and hope in coming to terms with loss and healing its wounds. Grief counselor Debra Holland explains the relationship between loss and grief, shares how others have worked through their own losses, and offers reassurance that what you’re feeling as you mourn is normal.

The first year after the loss of a loved one is the most difficult…it is a year of “firsts”…the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the first birthday, without that person.

The first year after the loss of my mother we struggled to maintain family traditions…my sister and I tried our best to recreate the holidays that my mother loved so much…but without her there, they seemed lacking.

The next year was a little better…as we began to combine the best of my mother’s customs with some of our own…this was the year we added Blue cheese and bacon to the Thanksgiving mash potatoes and had Mimosas on Christmas morning.

This past year we were able to find humor in remembering things my mother did…her 4^th of July themed tables and the jars of peanuts she put in our stockings. My sister and I can now laugh at each other as we are “becoming our mother”…I show up at her house with dessert and always bring holiday plates and napkins even though I know she has a stockpile of them from years past and she puts labels in the dishes on the Thanksgiving table so we know what to put where…and both of these things are exactly what my mother did.

I know that there are things that we will always do…things just like our mother did…but now the holidays are once again a time to celebrate as well as to remember.

This year as my family gets together…we will be embracing our old traditions and incorporating some new ones…there will be good food, family, and lots of laughter…as those are the things my mother loved best about the holidays!