Denise Carson, Author of Parting Ways, gives keynote speech on Grief Journeys at the Annual Hospice Care of the West Memorial Service.

I was invited to speak at the Hospice Care of the West Annual Memorial Service. This is one of my favorite communal rituals that the hospice organizes for their families who have lost a loved one that year. All the families come together to share life stories and share in their grief.  I don’t often speak directly about my grief journey. Admittedly it was a cathartic experience. I was profoundly moved by the other folks who stood during the open mic and shared how much my story meant to connecting to their own grief journey. As I listened to their grief journeys and life stories of loved ones lost, I realized how universal grief really is and that awe-inspiring moment gave me the courage to share this deeply personal story here on our blog. See below…

I’m honored to be with you here today. I remember very clearly my first memorial service at Hospice Care of the West in 2006. I wrote Mom on a rock in ritual of remembrance of her. And, I distinctly recall a feeling a palpable sense of community in my grief that I had never experienced before in a public setting.  As I listened to the life stories and reminiscences of others, I felt a sense of familiar and belonging.

At that time, I had been on a journey to write my book Parting Ways that led me across the country from New York City to California on quest to understand how grief inspires us to celebrate life even in our darkest hours of despair and loss. In retrospect, I set out as journalist but also as a daughter in search of others like me, so I would not have to do my grief journey alone.

I have learned to live with grief, as it is not something that you don’t get over after the funeral, or when you’ve cleaned out the closet or a year or even two years after the death.

The first time I learned about grief, in a college class, the sociology of death and dying, some 10 years after my father died of cancer. It was an unveiling of an invisible handicap for me. For a decade, I had suffered alone bottling this indescribable pain. I felt a physical tearing apart from my father. We did not have hospice because no one not even his own doctors accepted that he would die. Veiled in denial, he battled for two years in excruciating pain until his body finally succumbed to the cancer at 37 years old.

I’ve heard grief being described as a thicket that you cannot walk around but must instead walk down the middle feeling your way through the darkness and thorns to get to the other side.

I yearned to hear the timber of his voice, feel the strength of his hug, see his funny faces at the dinner table that always made me feel like everything would be ok.  I did not realize it at the time but I was constantly cycling through the stages of grief: Denial, Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. This condition that had plagued me for 10 years had a name: grief. But I had never gotten to the other side of it.

I did not fully appreciate that in order to recover from grief, we must find ways to walk through our emotional, spiritual and physical loss until my mother was diagnosed with cancer 12 years later. It was then when the grief of my father’s death surfaced and inspired how my mother and I celebrated her life, even in our deepest hours of despair. It was then that I began the walk through the thicket.

Hospice Care of the West Annual Memorial Service Lunch.

We have an interesting journey through hospice in that we have some indication as we enter the service that time is short. And, that triggers grief that can be paralyzing or inspiring, depending on which lens you’re looking through. The day my mother’s doctor shared that the chemotherapy was no longer working and that hospice was an option started our fast-forwarded journey to her last breath.

Since I had been a journalist at the LA Times, I had begun recording interviews with my mother about her life in a way that I interviewed my sources for a news story. Yet, after the hospice conversation, those interviews took on a new kind of significance. I felt my mother telling her stories with such vibrancy and detail that transported me from her bedside back in time to England where she grew up, her coming to America at 18 years old, traveling across the country in summer 1969 and meeting my father. Yet, when I asked about her career as a banker, she changed the subject.

Until one afternoon, when I asked her if she wanted to do an interview.

She smiled. “I think I want you to clean the clothes out of my closet.”

Usually this ritual occurs after the funeral and marks the acceptance that the deceased will not be returning. Admittedly, it would have been easier to say, “No, I’ll just do it later.” But if I had waited, I might have lost the stories locked in her closet.

I pulled out her business suits and laid them on the bed. She ran her fingers over the skirts and jackets, reawakening the power she felt wearing them in a Los Angeles skyscraper where she was one of the first women in bank management during the 1970s.

“Back then, women had to wear skirts,” she recalled, “Can you imagine the discrimination?” Although she kept her hair short and professional, she declared her femininity in bold royal blue, emerald, red and violet, standing out among the men in black suits.

As she reveled in the past, I realized how much her three-decade career meant. I decided to keep the suits. I’d never really paid attention to her life outside of being a single mom to my younger brother and me.

I pulled out a disco dress, slipped it on and danced around the room. She followed me with her eyes, saying I had my dad’s rhythm as she recounted how they cleared the dance floor when they discoed. They had been divorced, but you wouldn’t know it. At that moment, she was on that dance floor dancing with him in her mind. Just like she was in her childhood home when we talked about growing up in England. Or when she recalled the musty smell of the tent she stayed in during her summers in the English countryside. She had an uncanny ability to transport us to her past during our interviews.

As I worked on her closet, she smiled. “I’m content. I feel like I’m doing the right thing, having you do this,” she said. “One of the hardest things after a person dies is to go through their personal effects… You are learning everything, so in the aftermath, there really won’t be too much to do.”

She succeeded. I feel lucky not to be left with unanswered questions about her life, as I have so many about my father’s. Not long after, we had a living wake at our home. All of her friends and family came to the bedside in her last week of life to celebrate her. She was like a queen, the deathbed her throne, holding court, laughing, sharing stories and carrying on. I knew in a way that she did that for me, so I would not be alone, and to make the last sunset on her life a grand finale.

Something I have never shared publically, that I’d like to share with you now…as it sustained me in those hours after she died, when I did not want to continue living without her. I should say, we are in a very magical time after someone close to us has died. It’s like the walls between this world and whatever is next thin. For a brief time, you are connected to life beyond that which we can see and touch.

I was having dreams about my mother, and a friend of mine, said to me, why don’t you ask her how she is doing in the dream. That night in a very lucid dream that feels as real as you all do in front of me now. I was sitting at Thanksgiving dinner with my mother and family, and she said, ok, time to clean the dishes. I picked up my dish, and consciously followed her into the kitchen. And I asked her, how are you doing Mom? She turned to me and said, Oh, Denise, it is like a reunion here. And I have peace that truly does surpass all understanding. Your father and I, often walk with him in the garden, she said.

I came out of the dream with the deepest sense of gratitude for the time that I had been given with my mother. And I knew then she was ok, and that at sometime point I would eventually be ok too. Since, I understood grief was a very isolating experience, I set out to meet others like me on my journey rather than doing it alone as I had with my father.

While working on my book, I visited my stepmother, my father’s wife for an interview. We talked about his last days, and for the first time we cried together. Then she said to me, Denise, the only thing you remember is his death story. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she left the room. And then returned from her garage with a huge box full of photo albums and pictures. Together, we began looking through the pictures, of our pool parties, disco parties and my father dancing in his Italian tailored suits, and later I watched their wedding video…for the first time I recalled the memories that I had experienced with my dad that I couldn’t because they were blocked by my grief.

Later, I spoke to a grief oncologist. Yes, it’s what it sounds like a specialist in grief brought on my cancer death. It was then I learned that I had complied grief from their deaths. Again, I had a name for what I was living through. But that grief oncologist and many other grief specialists that I interviewed shared that life review that I did with my mother, the cleaning out her closet together and the unexpected joy we experienced from that time was what I needed to hold on to. And her death story, like his death story, I had to let go over. The death is the darkness, the life that we shared with them is light. In our grief, we must go to the light.

It was my mother’s life review, the light, which led me to the Hospice Care of the West through the life review video program as I researched my book. For two years, I spent time at the bedside witnessing patients’ record their life stories in a very raw last conversation that was later edited together with pictures and music. These recording of these life reviews brought families together at a time when they felt like they were being wrenched apart. Through reminiscences, they were transported back to better times, moments of glory, pivotal experiences that inspired wisdom to be shared and passed on to the next generation.

I believe part of the grief experience is to share our stories, as I’m sure all of you have experienced memories from your subconscious mind dump into your consciousness.  It makes us feel a bit foggy, and hazy.

I think this is a life review of the memories we have lived with the person we have had to part with. And it is memorial services like these that inspire us to sift through these memories and make sense of the life we shared with our person. We feel a sense responsibility and urgency to preserve their life story and wisdom to pass on to everyone we encounter, so our person has not lived vein. That is why this memorial service is so profound to me back then in 2006 and even today. It is not just family and friends, but a community brought together through the last season of life.

The post Through the Thicket of Grief to the Light of Remembering Life appeared first on Our Life Celebrations.

 By Dave Boyle

“The first thing to go from my memory after my dad died was his voice. The second, his laugh.”

Denise Carson

Denise was only twelve years old when her father, Richard, passed away in 1987. She still remembers the sterile, unfriendly atmosphere of the hospital room, the tubes, and the unnecessary ambulance rides. She knew, as much as any 12 year old can know, that this was no way to spend the last days of your life.

Her grandparents had met in the Philippines; her grandfather an American in the U.S. Army and her grandmother 100% Pilipino. Her dad was born in 1949 and immigrated to the United States in 1967. He was a great dancer, had an infectious smile, and owned his own business. He was just 37 years old when he passed away from cancer.

“When you lose a father at twelve years of age, you just don’t lose him at twelve,” Denise says, “you also lose him on your 13^th birthday. You lose him on your 16^th birthday. You lose him when you get your driver’s license. You lose him when you graduate from high school. You lose him when you graduate from college. You lose him at all the milestones, as you try to make sense of your life through the lens of his absence.”  Denise has memories of her dad, happy memories, and loving memories. But there are not enough of them and the ones she has are not as clear as she would have liked them to be.

Her mom and dad had divorced years earlier, but this of course was way different. Now she, her brother Ryan and her mom Linda were truly on their own. Denise’s mom was a very strong and courageous woman, and time does not permit the thousands of words it would take to do her justice. The best way to meet Linda Carson would be to read Denise’s book, “Parting Ways.” I usually find myself choosing relatively unimportant sporting events or inane political shows on television over getting lost in a good book, but this book I polished off in a few days. Denise’s depictions of her mom captivated me and made me feel like I know her. I also got to know Denise better, which is one reason why I wanted to celebrate her today.

After her mom was diagnosed with cancer, Denise decided that it wasn’t going to be like it was with her dad. This would be different. Mom would be celebrated. If it’s true that you only die when the memory of you is gone from people’s minds and hearts, then Linda Carson was never going to die.

The first thing Denise did with her mom was Life Review, learning many things  that she hadn’t known before and understanding her mom liked she had never understood her before. Denise could feel her heart melting as she listened to her mom share her pain and admit her shortcomings. Life Review also led Denise and her mom to do something that most people in that situation don’t even think of doing, cleaning out the closet, while the person is still alive. In her book Denise writes the following. “Cleaning out the closet is usually a task performed after a person dies. The ritual marks a state of acceptance that the deceased will not be returning. After the funeral and after everyone stops coming around, you are left to enter the wardrobe wafting with scents of your loved one. And by then the clothes are just clothes, and the books are just books. But what if you cleaned out the closet with the person there? I believe the life review helped us together reach this revelatory stage of acceptance before her death.”

The second phase was the Last Wish. It was now November of 2001, three months before her mom’s passing. How do you celebrate the last Thanksgiving? The last Christmas?  The last birthday? For Denise it was going through recipes with her mom and cooking Thanksgiving dinner. It was trimming the Christmas tree as Linda entertained with stories of the history of the ornaments. And it was inviting close friends over for a birthday celebration complete with cake and candles, as well as a surprise visit from the pastors and members of the choir of Linda’s home church, saying a prayer and singing Amazing Grace for her.

Denise Carson and her Mother, Linda Carson.

The final part of the journey with her mom was sitting vigil at her bedside in her last days and hours. Scripture passages were read from her well-worn Bible. Instrumental praise music hummed on the CD player. Prayers were said, and a sponge bath was given followed by a fresh pink nightgown. A last “I love you” from Linda to Denise, and a sunset. And then at 2:07, Sunday February 10^th, 2002, Linda Carson went into the arms of her Heavenly Father, surrounded by family and friends.

Denise writes in her book, “They say hearing is the last sense to go. I recited the Twenty-Third Psalm by heart. Then I opened her Bible and read Psalm 139. As I read the first verse, a song came to me, a song I hadn’t sung since I was a girl in Sunday School. The song was Psalm 139 called ‘Search Me of God.’ I sang loudly, like a sorrowful siren expelling my grief from the depths of my soul with every note.”

Search me, oh God, you know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there be any hurtful way in me and lead me in the everlasting way.

Which brings me to why we’re here today. Four years after her mom’s passing Denise crossed paths with Donna Miller, who was then the Volunteer Coordinator with Solari Hospice, and who would soon become the Director of Volunteer Services here at Hospice Care of the West. Denise followed Donna around for two years, interviewing her and chronicling the things that Donna and her volunteers did. And then in 2010 shortly after her own mother had passed away, Deb Robson accepted the position as our Executive Director, and immediately hit it off with Denise. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in some of those early meetings as the two of them bantered back and forth about the ideas that they could bring to their new endeavor.

As I go over Denise’s book “Parting Ways” in my mind, I can’t help but be taken by the fact that Denise did a life review with her mom. Denise gave her mom a last wish. Denise sat vigil by her bedside in her last hours. Life Review. Last Wishes. Sitting vigil. Do any of those sound familiar? Shannon, Jay and their team do a fantastic job with the Life Review videos with our families. Caitlin Crommet started the DreamCatchers program four years ago through Hospice Care of the West, providing last wishes for our patients.  And our Volunteer Department provides Vigil Volunteers, so no one has to die alone. Celebration was conceived because Denise and Deb thought it was important to celebrate us as we care for our patients and their families. These are some of the things that make our hospice a fulfilling and very unique place to work, and these are things that Denise, along with Deb and Jay, have helped bring to the fore-front at Hospice Care of the West.

Denise held a celebration for her mom before she passed, and Linda was able to hear all of the wonderful things that people had to say about her, and hear about all of the lives she had touched. We hold Celebration every other month, so we can share our stories of touching the lives of our patients and celebrate each other. Denise has done such a wonderful job of celebrating us, so I wanted to celebrate her today. Thank you Denise, for bringing us your heart, your soul, your wisdom and your experiences. Your story is truly your gift to us.

The post The Journey to Celebration! appeared first on Our Life Celebrations.

Karyn Randall, Business Development Director, at Hospice Care of the West, is a hero for saving the life of Pat at Don Jose Restaurant in Anaheim.

Recently at Don Jose restaurant for lunch in Anaheim, Karyn Randall, the Business Development Director at Hospice Care of the West, heard a man shouting “HELP, HELP, HELP” coming from the lobby. Curious, she stretched her neck around the corner to see an elderly man embracing a lifeless woman.

“Pat,” he begged. “Please stay with me. Please stay with me. Don’t leave me Pat.”

Karyn felt a rush of adrenaline. And she threw her purse to Debbie Robson, Executive Director of Hospice Care of the West. Karyn felt herself shaking, as she ran to their side to help.

She looked down to see Pat’s face turning ashen and eyes rolling back. Her body was seizing. Karyn checked her heart.  No heartbeat. Her own fear subsided as she felt an out of body experience. She started chest compressions and giving CPR. Karyn focused on counting but still could hear the elderly man’s voice echoing.

“Please stay with me Pat,” he said repeatedly in distress.

Within minutes, the life sweep back into Pat as color returned to her face and her eyes stopped rolling. Karyn checked her heart. It started beating again.

“Can I have my fajitas now,” Pat said as she came to. The ambulance showed up shortly after to take Pat to the hospital.

Karyn sighed a breath of relief.  It took a lot of courage to save Pat’s life, as that was the first time Karyn performed CPR.

Ironically, growing up in Orange, Calif., one of six girls, Karyn recalled having a fear of hospitals and anything to do with medicine until shortly after her 21^st birthday.

Karyn carried her sick 18-month-old nephew, Alex, into the pediatrician. A battery of tests followed. And then the doctor delivered a cancer diagnosis with a one percent chance to live.

“We’re a tight knit family,” Karyn said. “But this brought us all even closer. The doctor recommended that we all learn CPR for Alex.”

The family lived with Alex at Children’s Hospital of Orange County everyday in shifts around the clock. Karyn grew a bond with the doctors, nurses and the families at the hospital.

“I couldn’t stop asking questions of the doctors and nurses,” Karyn said. She needed to know the details of the code blues and every treatment. A family member was always at his side as the life swept in and out of Alex. Even if he survived for a few years, the doctors said he would have limited brain capacity. And in her family’s darkest hour, Karyn felt a calling.

She enrolled in college to get her Licensed Vocational Nursing degree. After graduation, she joined a duo team of pediatricians in Orange. Her personal experience gave her an inner strength to guide families grappling with a sick child.

“I became a positive role model for the families,” she said. She advised families to live in the moment. A year later, Alex was released from the hospital and given a clean bill of health. The doctors at CHOC believed it was his mother and family’s positive attitude and constant vigil that kept him alive.

By Alex’s next birthday, Karyn was ready to transition out of pediatrics as she met and fell in love with a firefighter. They shared a passion for helping people in need and soon married. After the wedding, Karyn’s focus turned to starting her own family. She transitioned out of pediatrics and into marketing for a nursing home.

“My passion is geriatrics,” Karyn said. She saw her mother’s love for helping people and “do, do, do” nature in every lady in the nursing home. And her father’s drive for working to support his family lived in hearts of the men.

Two years after her wedding day, she gave birth to John Thomas.  He made her see the world differently. Sure she was a worrier because of her experience with Alex. Eventually, she took her own advice to live in the moment and bask in the joy of motherhood, whatever that brought her way. Four years later, Karyn birthed her baby girl, Annie.

As her family grew, her career in geriatrics evolved. A friend suggested she join a hospice company. Karyn’s initial reaction was “Heck no, I’m afraid of dying”. Again, her fears gave way to a deeper calling. Hospice brought together all the threads of her life experiences. She became a pillar of positive support for the families in hospice care. Four years into her hospice career, she received a call to join Hospice Care of the West. She refused, but not for long.

A week later, Karyn’s grandmother needed hospice. She gave her business card to the hospital nurse and just assumed they would call her hospice company. She then went home to prepare for her grandmother’s homecoming.

The doorbell rang and Karen Rose, R.N. a Hospice Care of the West admissions nurse stood on her doormat. Out of curiosity, Karyn invited her in. She watched in amazement. This nurse spent four hours with Karyn transforming her home into a comfortable place for her grandmother to return.

“I was like holy cow,” Karyn said. “I’d never seen a nurse work with a family like this before. It was phenomenal, the only thing I could think of was everyone deserves care like this.  The admissions nurses I worked with were in and out in an hour. Often I stayed with the family because I didn’t trust the nurse to support the family through the early hours of their transition in hospice.”

The social worker and team from Hospice Care of the West followed and supported Karyn and her care for her grandmother in such an awesome, compassionate and complete way. Three weeks later, she joined Hospice Care of the West. For the first time in her life, she felt like she wasn’t selling a service.

“I feel honored to share hospice with doctors, families and patients because I know that we all feel lucky to be there for them and I know in my heart, I buy cialis discount can deliver on every promise,” Karyn said.

The word courage comes from the Latin word heart. Karen acts and speaks from the heart. Looking back over her journey so far, Karyn overcame her fears of medicine to be present for her nephew, Alex. That experience gave her the undeniable courage to now be that present light for families. Today, her family celebrates Alex’s recent graduation from college and his seven full-ride scholarship-offers for law school.

After lunch at Don Jose, Karyn realizes you can summon the courage to make anything possible even bringing someone back to life. Karyn received a call from Jerry, Pat’s brother, to invite her out to lunch to celebrate Pat’s life at Don Jose after she gets out of rehab. Pat suffered a massive heart attack, stayed in hospital for seven days, and is now in rehab thanking God everyday for Karyn.

Debbie sent out an email to the Hospice Care of the West team sharing the story of the “Hero Among Us” and Karyn was virtually toasted by her peers via email. One toast from Alan Grotsky said, “Rarely can you go to work in the morning at hospice and SAVE A LIFE.” Another one from Erin Rodgers, remarked, “Way to Go K, you earned your angel wings today.”

As I read the emails, tears welled. I remember the first time that I heard of Karyn. Deb described her as Tinker Bell spreading the light of hospice to doctors, patients and families in their darkest hour. Now, I realize those wings existed long before the day she saved Pat’s life.

The post The Angel of Hospice Finds the Courage to Save a Life appeared first on Our Life Celebrations.

Our deepest gratitude to Dick Bentley and his family for sharing a wonderful life review that really touches on the universal truths of the meaning of life. Mr. Bentley tells us that it’s relationships with people that make the journey interesting and worthwhile. He is striking resemblance to Clint Eastwood. As Bentley tells his stories, we feel as though we have stepped into scenes from Eastwood’s Hollywood films. These are gems of wisdom from a man who so bravely served our country during World War II. Check out his life review video.

He also talks about how important his mother and grandfather were in building the man he is today. His grandfather travelled from England to America at just 17 years old in search of a new life. Likewise, Bentley turned out to be a wanderlust kid growing up in Minnesota with big dreams of one day living in a tropical paradise. At age 16, he hitchhiked to San Francisco and then made his way down to San Diego where he stowed away on a boat to Hawaii. He landed a job with Filipino migrant workers in the sugar cane fields. The sugar cane field foreman had a reputation for treating the migrant workers like slaves. One day, he tried to push Bentley, who was a very mild manner man. Finally, Bentley had enough, turned around, punched the foreman in the head and knocked him out. Everyone thought he was dead. Bentley rose to become a local hero and earned the name “One-Punch Bentley.”

He left the cane fields to work for a company that delivered oil to Pearl Harbor. On the morning of December 7, 1941, he didn’t deliver oil to harbor but he did see the Japanese planes flying so low that he could see the pilot. The day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, he returned to the mainland to become a pilot to fly in World War II. He flew 31 bombing missions from North Africa to Europe.  On the last mission his plane crashed off the coast of Sicily, and he swam for two hours. And an Italian fisherman picked him up. He was taken to the Italian war quarters and became a prisoner of

war to the Germans. General George Patton liberated the prison camp. So Bentley recalled seeing the commander in action on the day of his freedom.  After the war, Mr. Bentley became aerospace engineer and worked on the satellite that made the first transatlantic phone call a reality.

Some 25 years later when Mr. Bentley returned to Hawaii with his family, his daughter recalled the all the Filipinos running up to her father, who was a local legend. They were all cheering “One-Punch Bentley.” He will remain a local legend in Hawaii. And for us, Mr. Bentley will be forever remembered for serving country and giving us gems of wisdom.

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Lights, Camera, Action! Yes, we filmed a commercial with a real hospice patient, Arline Perrizo at 95 years old, her daughter, Mary, and her team of “hospice angels” from Hospice Care of the West in Orange County, Calif. Arline is star. Check out the commercial. It’s now airing. Thank you Arline and Mary! Like a real movie star, Arline started the day in hair and make-up with professional stylist and hospice volunteer, Nancy Johnson.

Jay Gianukos, the director of the commercial, filmed Arline in the spotlight. She basked in all of the attention.She then joined me on the film set equipped with lights, video cameras, sound equipment and a crew in her living room. I interviewed Arline, who was an elementary school teacher and by doing this commercial she had a chance to teach one last time. This lesson would take place on a film set instead of her classroom and her students would be our community in need of learning how much hospice benefited her life and her daughter’s. Mary wanted her mother to stay at home but her mother had taken a bad fall that landed her in hospital. When she was discharged, Hospice Care of the West came on to help Mary care for her Mom and provide a safety net of support that has brought them so much relief and peace.

Hospice is a team approach to end-of-life care in the home, or wherever a patient calls home, for the patient with a life expectancy of six months or less to live. Mary and Arline have support from a nurse, social worker, spiritual care counselor, home health aid and volunteer. Read more about hospice care here. Also, the volunteer services at Hospice Care of the West brought Mary and Arlene so much joy. Shannon Sirovy, the director of volunteer services at Hospice Care of the West, had already filmed a life review video of Arlene reminiscing about her life that she can now pass on her wisdom and legacy of memories to her children and grandchildren. The life review video is a gift from Hospice Care of the West created with volunteer hours of a life review interview that is then edited with family pictures and music. Read more about life review video here.

Thank you Arline and Mary for sharing your experiences with us and for other families to learn the benefits to choosing hospice that focuses on comfort care. Many people don’t realize that you have a choice in hospice. And choosing the right team to care for you in the most vulnerable hour is vital to living with peace and comfort even when time is limited. My most favorite moment of the commercial shoot was when Dave Boyle, the spiritual care coordinator, sat down with Arline and Mary. He asked if he could read a passage from the Bible and Arlene agreed. Then he placed his hand gently on Arline’s hand and said, “You can read it with me, if you know it.” And in an instant, a peace fell over the room as Dave read the 23^rd Psalm and Arline joined him. After he asked if she wanted him to pray for her, and she smiled “yes” and sighed relief. I witnessed each of the team members Cheryl, the nurse, Angela, the social worker, Dave and Shannon had such a gift to give and together surround them with everything that they need to make this journey that is often wrenching for families instead be a time of peace, joy and reflection.

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Marie Lasher, patient of Hospice Care of the West, shares her life stories and wisdom in recorded life review video to give as a gift to her family.

At 102 years old, Marie Lasher dresses for the premiere of her life story in a small movie theater near her Laguna Hills, California home. Shannon Sirovy, Director of Volunteer Services of Hospice Care of the West, accompanies Marie in a wheelchair into the elevator. As they enter the elevator, they see posters of Marie on the wall inviting the community to her movie. Yvette Aiello, the volunteer editor of Marie’s life review video, joins them.

“Look Marie, you’re famous,” Shannon says.

“Well, Marie says beaming. “I’ll only sign autographs, no checks.”

As they enter the movie theater, Marie receives a red carpet welcome.

Friends surround her from the community she has lived in for three decades. As she basks in a wave of embraces and endearments from friends, she shines like a star in the spotlight. Wafts of fresh popcorn fill the theater as the guests sit take their seats. The theater is full.

“This is all for me,” Marie says in a coy voice.

As the lights of the theater dim, Marie shows up on screen. And she watches herself on the silver screen retrace her life’s footsteps, stories and lessons that began in Ohio when she was born. Marie shares her personal history and journey that led to the life review interview video recorded by Shannon, Director of Volunteer Services at Hospice Care of the West, just a few week before.

On that memorable afternoon shortly after Marie entered hospice care, her bedroom is transformed into what appears to be the dressing room of a movie star. A video camera is on a tripod set up and make-up is being applied to her face.

Marie selects a red lipstick. She beams like a super star.

“I think that will show up better on the camera,” Marie says directing Shannon to put on her lipstick. “I’ll see if I can employee you as my make-up artist

“Alright, Go like this ‘muah’,” Shannon says. “Rub them together.”

“You look beautiful,” says the audience gathered around her in the room.

“Do you want me to wear the oxygen?” Marie says pointing to the oxygen cannula piping oxygen into her nose from a tank.

Tracy Filowitz, of Hospice Care of the West, behind the camera, assures her that it’s not too noticeable on camera.

Shannon tucks a life alert tag into her shirt and straightens the collar around her sweater.
“Should I wear the sweater?” She asks.

Shannon straightens her collar.

“However, I look the best,” she says beaming into the lens of the video camera.

“You look great,” Tracy says from behind the camera. “You look beautiful.”

“You look on here, that’s a good choice of lipstick,” Shannon says as she views the moving image on the video camera.

Shannon sits beside the video camera and begins the interview with asking Marie’s name and birth details.

“My date of birth, honest to goodness, is April 16^th 1910,” Marie says.

“And what city were you born in,” Shannon asks.

“I was born in Cleveland, Ohio,” Marie says.

“Do you recall the name of the hospital, you were born in?” Shannon asks.

“Honey, a mid-wife probably delivered me,” Marie says. “ In those days it was really more mid-wives than hospitals.”

“What’s your earliest childhood memory?”

“More visual to me, I can see myself as a little

girl, about 5 to 6 years old, I can’t remember anything spectacular, I know I was a tomboy, and I would jump from our porch to see how far I could jump. I was raised with three brothers.”

The phone rings interrupting the interview.

Marie answers it.

“Honey, I’m being interviewed, you didn’t know your mother was a popular woman, but they are interviewing me from hospice to get a little bit of my life history,” she says to her son, Lewis, calling from Denver, Colorado.

“I want a copy of everything,” says her son on the phone line to his mother. Marie repeats it to Shannon, who shakes her head saying absolutely, that is why she is doing it for Marie’s children and grandchildren. The life review video interview conducted by Shannon is a gift given to the hospice patients and their families by the volunteer services at Hospice Care of the West. A life review interview retraces the footsteps of a person’s life from birth to childhood, young adulthood to falling in love, lessons learned to chosen religious paths, parenthood to grandparenthood, to wisdoms and hopes and dreams to pass on to the next generation. This life review video is then edited with music and pictures to be passed on so the hospice patient like Marie Lasher knows a tangible legacy of memories and wisdom will live on for her children and grandchildren, great grandchildren and so forth.

“Okay, you’ll get it,” Marie says to her son and hangs up the phone.

“Proceed, she says to Shannon.

Marie shared the story of how her family coming to America from Hungry and Austria. Those of her family that stayed behind, she laments were killed in the gas chambers when the Nazis invaded Europe during World War II.

Marie’s father played pinochle as a weekend gatherings

that brought the family together in America. She knew all her aunts and uncles. Pinochle brought together not only family but also friends from the neighborhood. The gatherings punctuated her childhood while also setting the course for her adulthood. As it was during one of these games that she met and fell in love with the man who would become her husband in 1944 and her son, Lewis, was born in 1945.

“So, you should start counting,” she chuckled. “As is the usual thing with people, when the child is born a little early…” Marie starts counting on her fingers.

“I had a lovely life,” she says smiling.

Her husband owned a bar called “Wander Inn” she said everyone in the neighborhood would say “wander in, stagger out…Though if anyone was drunk in their bar, my husband or his brother would drive them home, they never let them walk the streets.”

Her husband learned the trade of jewelry from her father who was a manufacturing jeweler in New York City. The jewelry business translated to her husband becoming a traveling salesman.

“I had a lot of fun with him,” she says. “We use to showdown at the Biltmore Hotel. I use to work with him selling jewelry.”

Since her husband was out of town a lot, she was a father and a mother to her son, Lewis. She spoke of keeping the books for her husband’s business as a jeweler.

“I took him to his baseball games,” she says. “I was a scout mother, I had the scout meetings at my house. I was active in the PTA in the elementary school, junior and senior high because I felt it was my duty as my mother.”

Marie like many women today struggled to care for her son, her aging father, keeping her husband’s books and working as a secretary.  Eventually, she became a senior clerk in Los Angeles County Adoption Services.

Marie’s religious life began from the day she was born into a Jewish family. Her mother kept a Kosher home. She attended a synagogue in her youth and was married in that synagogue in Ohio. Later, when she migrated to California because of her son’s asthma, she and her husband joined a synagogue in Los Angeles. Marie dedicated her life to volunteering in the temple and also civic duty.

“I enjoy being a volunteer,” she says.

Marie talked about how her parents observed the holy days and how they attended services in the temple at sundown. She remembered as a child always receiving new clothes for the holidays. Marie pulls out the Bible that she carried and read as child in Sunday school. During an earthquake, the Bible was ruined. And her niece recently had it restored and re-bound with her family history, which make the book valuable at so many levels for Marie.

Marie then looked directly into the camera and said as if to the next generations.

“Know your parents backgrounds,” she said. “And what they did, if you can make a recording like this, you will be amazed in later years. You don’t want to be left asking why didn’t I ask mom or dad this. If you ask now, you’ll know for the future.”

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Preparing to appear at the grandest celebration of his life.

Your 15 minutes have arrived. Roll out the red carpet. A living funeral is the grandest celebration of your life with a twist—you, the honoree, are living and present to hear the eulogies, praises and farewells given before death. This gathering of family, friends, neighbors and colleagues is a ceremony or party to celebrate a person with a life-limiting illness. If you know your time is short why wait?

Mark Twain, the astute observer of human behavior and one of the greatest authors in American history, portrayed his fascination of eavesdropping on his own funeral in the novel “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” published in 1902. The protagonist Tom Sawyer said in the midst of the fanfare, “It was the proudest moment of his whole life.”

In researching my book Parting Ways, I’ve come to realize that these pre-death rituals that seem rare are on the rise from the east to west coasts. People are toasting and roasting family members and friends with limited time left. Some look like a cross between a wedding and funeral. These formal or informal get-togethers take place at a home, community center, house of worship, hotel banquet hall, a favorite restaurant, a theater, or any place that would honor the person. I’ve seen the honoree dressed in everything from a hospital gown to a tuxedo. Others are more somber with collective prayers, Psalms or Holy book readings, anointing and last rites given by clergy.

As I mention in my column about a living tribute in the OC Register, “The gathering becomes a stage for people to share memories, sometimes songs, poems and lifetime achievement awards that express: thank you, I love you, I’ll remember you. And goodbye.

Some families suggest that attendees bring mementos, such as a picture or an item from a treasured family vacation, to help focus the reminiscing party. These celebrations help families prepare for the inevitable, and bond while focusing on life when they often feel helpless in the face of death.”

The funeral in living funeral tends to put people off because they feel like they’re digging the grave too early, but quite the contrary gathering to eulogize and celebrate one’s life before he or she dies is the antithesis. These pre-death ceremonial farewells have been coined living wake, celebration of life, friendship service, living tribute, reminiscing party and sendoff. No matter what these personalized rituals are called the most important element is that a special time is carved out for intimates to express love, gratitude and those things we should’ve, would’ve, or could’ve, said if we found the right time.

The first time, I read about a living funeral was in the book Tuesdays With Morrie: An Old Man, A Young Man, Life’s Greatest Lessons by Mitch Albom. Five million copies of this book were sold and it was

on the New York Times Best Seller List. Morrie Schwartz, dying of Lou Gehrig’s disease, goes to a funeral and realizes that his late friend didn’t get to hear all of the wonderful speeches so he decides to have a funeral before his death. He invited his family and friends to come to his home and say the things they would’ve said at his funeral. At Morrie’s living funeral in the Emmy winning made for TV movie produced by Oprah Winfrey, gospel singers perform giving the home ceremony a reverence that it so deserves.

As I trace the history of living funerals in my book, Parting Ways, I discovered Morrie awakened a ritual from our past because the act of gathering around the dying person to uplift them actually dates back centuries when dying was a social affair attended by the family and community. The dying person would give long-winded speeches about his or her wisdom gained in life and family members would gather to listen and express love and gratitude, but the ritual died in the twentieth-century when death moved out of the home and community and into the hospital. Now, with the prevalence of hospice, we’re seeing an awakening of this communal, familial ritual

because more people are taking their end of life journeys in the comforts of home, family and community rather than estranged in a sterile institution.

Sometimes, people don’t learn the most interesting attributes and experiences about a person until the funeral. So, the living funeral offers a time to really learn about the “whole life” of a person. Today, people lead such splintered lives spread far apart in many cases from their birthplace and their families. It takes a death to unite people from distant locals in one place. A living funeral maybe the last time a person joins with all those he or she loved and experienced life with and vice versa.

When I interviewed John Hogan, former president of the National Funeral Directors Association, for my book, Parting Ways, he recalled a man dying of cancer, who asked to have a living wake in the viewing room of his New York City funeral home. Friends and family came to the funeral home viewing room to collectively reminisce and the dying man sat on a throne like a king relishing every last moment shared with his beloved court, instead of laying dead in a casket.

So when might a person chose to indulge in such a ritual? Today, most people know when their time is short and the body is in irreparable decline. Many people deny it to themselves and those around them for self-preservation and protection of the family. The living funeral, also known as a celebration of life or living wake, is so instrumental in stimulating the family and friends to begin to talk about the possibility of the end. It’s not talking about death but rather life. I’ve come to the conclusion that a living funeral or living wake honors a person in a way that no milestone or birthday celebration is able to over the course of a life. In those culminating hours, family, friends and colleagues mark the sum of all those milestones and birthdays, a total life mission accomplished.

A terminal illness strips a person of his or her autonomy, individuality and social identity. Experts often call this a social death because a person maybe bound to a wheelchair or a bed. This consequence makes a person feel like a half-human. This is the hour when a person feeling quite vulnerable could find renewal in hearing about his or her life shared through the cherished lens of others rather than after he or she takes the last breath. The ritual binds the honoree, family and friends in reciprocity. Everyone is uplifted in a way they thought impossible at this stage of life, because attendees are given the microphone to say those words of remembrance and know the honoree is receiving it. That is so gratifying especially at an hour when we as humans feel completely out of control. They call the end of life awful. When people gather for collective reminiscence everyone is awe-inspired.  A good ritual shatters isolation and leads the way to transformation. In the end, it’s a remarkable gift to give as a parting gift to the honoree and an extraordinary memory to leave in the minds of survivors.

The post Living Funeral: The Grandest Life Celebration appeared first on Our Life Celebrations.

If you knew your time was short, and someone offered you a last wish, what would you ask for? Caitlin Crommett, the 17 year-old Founder of Dream Catchers, started an organization two years ago to make last wishes and dreams come true for hospice patients at Hospice Care of the West.

She was inspired by the movie “Patch Adams” about a doctor who “cared about making his patients happy rather than just treating their disease.” The spark for Dream Catchers came while watching a scene in the film when Patch Adams talks to a woman, nearing the end of life, about why she no longer wanted to eat. He discovers she’d always wanted to plunge into a pool of pasta. He grants her wish.

Caitlin has never encountered a dream quite so zany, but she has made a variety of dreams and last wishes come true since 2009. She had been volunteering for Hospice Care of the West since she was in seventh grade because her father works for the company. So, she had some experience and knowledge about the fragility of this stage of life. Yet, her experience in hospice isn’t what stands out about this exceptional young woman when

you meet or in my case interview her, it is how articulate and compassionate she comes across. She made her own dream about Dream Catchers into a reality by creating a brochure about her vision and then attending a meeting with the team at Hospice Care of the West to request that they offer her service. For those unfamiliar, a dream catcher is a Native American instrument reminiscent of a net or web with a handle that is hung over the bed to catch good dreams and keep the bad ones out.

The first dream that landed in her dream catcher was from a lifelong sailor. His name was Bernie Klein and he could no longer verbalize his last wish, so his wife made it for him. She knew that although he was wheelchair bound, one more sail in the fresh, salty, sea air with friends and family would make his life feel complete. Caitlin decided that she could charter a sailboat with a captain to take Bernie and his crew out for an afternoon at sea to celebrate his love for the ocean and sailing. They left the dock in Dana Point and glided into the Pacific on a classic 82-foot schooner named Curlew. Though, he couldn’t talk the brilliant smile on his face was worth a thousand words to Caitlin and Bernie’s wife.  The sun kissed his face while the wind tickled his cheeks and blew through his hair, all sensations he was familiar with, but missed in his diminished state. He could even for a brief moment forget about his condition and bask in one last sail.

She made Bernie’s wish come true with the help of her parents. Caitlin drew from a saving account that her parents set aside for her to go to private school, but once the word spread through the local media about Caitlin’s amazing vision she started receiving donations from the community. She founded a non-profit organization and a club at her high school to be able to accept donations. Caitlin now has a team of Dream Catchers at Tesoro High School. Together, they work on making dreams happen and hand-making dream catchers to bestow on each dreamer once the wish is granted. She’s served gourmet dinners, taken families to Disneyland, set up family reunions, gave the gift of sight in the form of eyeglasses, brought an orchestra into the home and the list goes on. But the most moving experience for Caitlin occurred when she received a dream from Larry Robinson, 75 years old.  He wished to see his sister one last time. Caitlin has a sister of her own and couldn’t possibly imagine being separated especially in the eleventh hour of life.

Caitlin called his sister, Marilyn Rands, at her home in Washington. She introduced herself, shared Larry’s dream and then offered to fly her out to California to spend time with her brother. It had been six years since they spent time together. They both missed each other. Caitlin had honestly never received so much gratitude in the hugs from Marilynn upon her arrival at the airport. When they arrived home, Larry waited in the hospital bed set up in the living room. He had been steadily declining, losing energy but he beamed when his sister walked through the front door. Caitlin saw him just completely transform, he sat up and was shining. Marilynn sat down at his bedside and embraced him. He just kept repeating her name between long, grateful hugs.

“Marilynn,” he said smiling and savoring each hug. “Oh, Marilynn.”

Marilynn kept saying over, over “I love you, I love you.”

As they reminisced, Caitlin was so touched by their heartfelt reunion that she had to hold back tears. She then brought over an Italian dinner with dessert donated by Tutto Fresco for them to dine the following night. For some reason this dream, she really felt like a part of the dream, like she was participating not just making it happen. After dinner, as customary, when she fulfills a dream, she hung a small dream catcher next to Larry’s bed to remind him that last wishes and dreams do come true.

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