Death

Celebrant Commencement Speech

Culminating Healing and Transition Ceremonies, Celebrant Institute

When I got an answer to my application from Elise, telling me she had studied the same year as you

The tears felt oh so right

As I learned of rituals and honoring grief,

I remembered you…

“Separation, liminal phase, and reintroduction…”

There you were again, welcoming folks into our sweat lodge

Finding the right introductory questions…

There you were again, designing my wedding ceremony.

Following in a parent’s footsteps can many times generate doubt. 

Is this truly what I want?

A semester of fundamentals on ceremonies gave me the tools to express my grief, to mold my sorrow into something tangible.

Slowly the doubt began to diminish.

Another semester of poems, rituals and inspiration, delving into what could be called the business of hope. The crafting of narrative and the cultivation of hope.

Today I present myself to all you, not without doubt, full of insecurity, but brimming with hope. Quivering with conviction, that what we do is right and necessary. 

Why? Because I’ve lived it myself, and so has everyone who has been touched by ceremony. Be they joyous, bereaving or anywhere in between. 

A friend of mine questioned me the other day, how can you celebrate grief? I had to think about this one… and check up on the definition of celebration: acknowledgement, honoring, recognition. To truly live each moment of our lives to the fullest and with the most presence. That’s why our rituals allude to fire, water, earth, air, to bring us back to our fullest, natural selves. To remind us we are more than a bunch of ideas, that we are physical beings interacting constantly in a physical medium. Just so, as we recognize ourselves as part of an interweaving, our stories become each others stories. 

So thank you dad, for your story, thank you to my teachers for their stories, to my colleagues for theirs, and for the stories told by the consuming fire, gushing river, the streaming wind and the enveloping mountains.

A turning, a passage of grief

No one prepares you for the death of your father. I had always thought, talking about death was no taboo for us, but I had no idea.

I remember standing outside of the wake, looking in, not coming to grips. I would have liked to say some words, but there was no way I could bring myself to do so without breaking down completely.  It was like standing by a river, and not hearing anything. Feeling completely overwhelmed. Something that has just until recently been a constant in the background. 

I had about 7 months of mourning before my dad’s death, coming to terms, seeking medical alternatives. Always thinking, maybe if only I had followed one more piece of well intended, but annoying advice from a friend or extended family.

I remember… towards the end, sitting on the floor below my dad’s bed, looking for signs of communication. Not knowing how to help, venting frustration, drinking too much. Going for long runs. Screaming at hillsides.  

During the process, writing down all my resentment, trying to manifest feeling into the physical realm, and then… allowing space for gratitude. 

After September 2nd 2020, the coping began… the remaining family went on a trip to the beach. Worst trip of my life. 

A friend of mine helped with therapy. She spoke of how our family unit, our family project and business required a new metaphor.  A pillar of the table was missing and we required a new table, a new structure. I’d think to myself… what would he do? What is expected from me? What is it that I want? Should I stay with the family business? Visiting the river and having the water wash all the feeling away.

And then… not too long ago, another teacher made me see the river in a new light. Every rain season the river that passes through our property creates a little bit of havoc and finds a slightly different path. Taking over a family business, losing a father, is like living at the edge of chaos, constantly. My teacher suggested I offer the river a flower. And so I did, and I learned the tremendous force of the river to be an inspiration. And I took up a vow that I am up for the challenge to be a guardian.

“You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.” Franz Kafka

“My once perfect body has become a story turned by time and weather.”