My tribe

That tribe that speaks my language. That one akin to ‘comfortable in your own skin’. That one.

The tribe?  The death tribe. One that embraces: “We all are going to die.”

We have all heard it before. But some have a harder time with that statement. Especially in the United States.
In other countries it is part of common dialogue.
Here? It is voodoo.
We don’t want to address it. Or, more over, some believe they are an exception to the rule and it won’t happen to them.

Sorry.
Fact: We all were born of a mother and we all – will die.
So I guess it was quite fitting that I would be in attendance, with other women, for the gathering of the National Home Funeral Alliance.
Yes, it was mostly women. Surrogate Mothers. Females.
Appropriately, these women are caring for those crossing that great divide. Some identify themselves as death doulas. They – are the surrogate ‘mothers’. Walking with us in that journey to the other side of birth.

One speaker shared the analogy of this journey as…the river.
On one bank, is this life. On the other bank, is the ‘after this life’.
People are stepping into the role of caring for those crossing ‘the river’.
It really is a beautiful thought isn’t it?
Someone being beside you. Holding space for you and those around you. As you prepare to cross the river?

I think that is why there is so much fear here in this country. We don’t want to talk about death.
Because we are afraid. Our culture has separated us into you vs me. Them vs us.
The fear? We don’t want to die alone. Yet our culture has driven this wedge between generations.
The label: Burdens.
Really? How can we look at someone’s existence as a burden?
Maybe it is more of a – ‘we don’t want to look death in the face’.

I challenge you. To look ‘it’ in the eyes.
It doesn’t have to be so scary.
And it will happen to everyone.

Living fully – carving a life,

Michelle

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