little miss funeral

an average girl working at your not so average job

A little update.

My voice is becoming quiet. Something that I didn’t anticipate happening. I know through the years that I’ve been blogging I’ve gone through times where I’ve said less and times when I’ve written more. But this is different.

Becoming a mother has made me different in ways that I could have never seen coming. These days I’m on maternity leave, snuggling my girl, and dedicating my entire existence to her. I feed her, I change her, I love her. When she cries I answer.

The funeral industry has given me many gifts throughout the years. I’ve learned many lessons spending my days inside the doors of a funeral home. I’ve learned that life is short, death doesn’t discriminate, and that you should do what makes you happy. These days, I’m happy spending every moment with my girl.

When I do return to work, it’s going to be difficult to find balance. I’ve struggled with depression and compassion fatigue in the past due to the hours that I’ve dedicated to my job. Things are going to have to be different. I have something much more important now to dedicate my life to. I still have some time on my maternity leave, but when I do start working again, I’m certain I’ll have a lot to talk about. In the mean time, thanks for checking in. We’re all doing fine.

What Little Miss Funeral Wears (when she’s nine months pregnant.)

Nine months.

As I sit here and type, I am actually 39 weeks and three days pregnant. My pregnancy app on my phone likes to remind me that I am due to have a baby in four days. My doctor likes to remind me that the baby will come when the baby is ready.

I just want them here happy and healthy.

But, by the time this post gets published I will have already given birth. In the meantime, I am still working. I was not joking that I am planning on working until this baby comes out. Hopefully, if labor begins while I’m at the funeral home, I’ll have enough signs and time to get myself over to the hospital. This baby is going to have a mama who is a funeral director. I don’t need to scar them anymore with a birthing story where they were actually born in the funeral home or at a cemetery.

But, for the purpose of my outfit post, I did do my last morbid maternity shoot in the cemetery, like always. August has been one hot month. I think the most difficult part of my pregnancy has been dealing with this heat. That’s why I’ve been trying to wear clothes that can keep me cool. I know you cannot tell, because I am wearing a little sweater, but the dress that I’m wearing is actually sleeveless. This helps so much when I’m at the funeral home doing paperwork because I swear I am always hot! It does not matter if the air conditioner is on and running, I am still sweating! When I’m in front of families, I do cover up a bit more. This is an old Loft sweater that I’ve had in my closet. It doesn’t properly fit me, but I’m just trying to do what I can here. My favorite part of this outfit are my shoes!

So you all know the story. I really do not own flats. Last month, I found a cheap pair of mules online from Target, so I bought those. But I think these mules have an even better story. My mom bought herself these shoes at Lord and Taylor. My mom and I are the same shoe size, so I was at her house one day and tried them on. And oh, my gosh, these were so much more comfortable than my Target pair! So I went the very next day to Lord and Taylor to buy them, only to find out they didn’t have them in store anymore. No problem, right? Because I figured I’d just order them online. Well, online they didn’t have my size! So I begged and begged my mom to give me her pair (and she refused, because they are so amazing!) About two weeks later, she finally agreed to let me borrow them until after the baby was born. But first, she made me go online to make certain they didn’t have my size. I went online only to find out that they must have restocked because there they were! I was so excited I bought them right away. I’m telling you, the trouble I went through to own these mules. (But, seriously, so worth it!) Being able to just slip them on my swollen feet has been a lifesaver. I couldn’t imagine having to bend down to get shoes on at this point.

Once again, I know this post isn’t going up until after baby, but I am just sitting here feeling so overwhelmed. I am so ready to give birth. It’s been such a long and emotional journey for me, and although I don’t think I’m fully ready to be a parent, I am fully ready to love this little human with my whole heart. If working in a funeral home has taught me one thing, it’s that life is short. And if pregnancy has taught me one thing, it’s that it’s okay to toss aside the high heels every once in a while.

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Dress:

Belt:

Sweater: Loft

Shoes:

My husband Josiah LeRoy took these photos of me in United German and French Cemetery in Cheektowaga, NY.

What Little Miss Funeral Wears (when she’s eight months pregnant.)

Let’s get real.

Being a funeral director is hard. Being an eight month pregnant funeral director in July in ninety degree heat is REALLY hard. That is why, my friends, I’ve had to ditch the heels. My back is hurting, my feet are swelling, and I’m just feeling all around uncomfortable. I’m not complaining, though, because I’m coming to the home stretch! And I’m about to be blessed with the greatest gift ever. I’d give up heels forever for this little baby.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I went shopping with my mama. She found this dress at Lord and Taylor and I immediately tried it on because of the stretchy material. She told me it would be good for summer, and she wasn’t wrong. This dress is not maternity, but I was so glad to get it because it has definitely grown with me. One thing I’ve noticed about my non-maternity stretchy dresses are even though they expand with my stomach, they also get shorter and shorter as the months go on. This high-low dress allows me to expand at the waist while not showing off too much junk in the trunk.

I’ve been using what I have, so again, I paired this dress with a belt just to show off the little baby bump….which nowadays isn’t so little.

I bought these mules cheap over at Target. I honestly do not own flats, so when my feet began to swell in the summer heat, I grabbed these. I love that they’re mules because I can slip them on and off without having to struggle with any straps or backs. At this point in my pregnancy, I’m working full time, so my outfits are what they are. I’m just trying to stay as comfortable as I can. Most families that I meet with at the funeral home don’t say anything about my appearance (besides for asking me if I’m carrying twins. Spoiler, I’m not.) so I’m just going to keep going. One stretchy black dress at a time.

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Dress – Lord & Taylor (here)

Belt – Ann Taylor

Shoes – Target (here)

My husband Josiah LeRoy took these photos of me in Ridge Lawn Cemetery in Cheektowaga, NY.

What Little Miss Funeral Wears (when she’s seven months pregnant.)

Morbid maternity photo shoot take two.

Seriously, that’s all I see when I look at these photos. But alas, I am currently (at least at the time I type this) seven months pregnant and still working full-time (and sometimes overtime) at the funeral home. All in all, I still feel pretty good. I’m getting bigger and all that means is clothes are getting more difficult to find and my back is starting to hurt.

I have so far refused to buy any maternity clothes. I have, however, experienced the blessing of others buying/loaning me maternity wear. This dress is from one of those angels.

I have a cousin who had a baby a few years back and she let me borrow this dress. Although clothes are getting more difficult to find, I’m still sticking with my black/gray/white theme as much as I can. When I look at myself in the mirror, I just see myself getting bigger and bigger, so keeping to my favorite color scheme helps me to still feel like myself. Since last month, I’ve retired my favorite stilettos and have switched to these thick high heels instead. My feet/ankles are not swelling (yet) so I’m still pretty comfortable wearing heels during the day. I do, however, take them off when I’m sitting by my desk. I hope I can wear heels for the remainder of my pregnancy, but we’ll see how it goes. One day at a time!

Since I am getting bigger, one thing that I love to do is wear a belt with my dresses. It makes me feel like I’m showing off the baby bump that I can no longer hide instead of feeling like a balloon. Even though I am so excited for this little baby and would gain a million pounds as long as it’s born happy and healthy, I still am very uncomfortable with the changes in my body. Being out in the community and around people, I’ve always been aware that people judge me based on how I look. One huge thing that I’ve noticed is how excited families get when they walk into the funeral home and see me. It’s as if my pregnancy sheds a light, if only for a moment. After all, I’ve always said, people love babies and puppies.

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That last photo has me laughing! Trying to look like a model, actually looking like a whale! If pregnancy has taught me one thing it’s to just roll with it, especially when you’re feeling large and out of control.

Dress – Liz Lange Maternity (similar style here)

Shoes – Nine West (similar style here)

Belt – H&M (similar style here)

My husband Josiah LeRoy took these photos of me in Mt. Calvary Cemetery, Cheektowaga, NY.

 

My thoughts for my little bebe.

In the event that you haven’t seen my most recent YouTube video, I am so happy to share with all of you that my husband and I haven recently welcomed a daughter into the world!

When I found out I was pregnant, I was so unbelievable excited, but so scared at the same time. I was excited, because my husband and I had been trying to start a family. I was scared, because I had buried so many babies throughout my career as a funeral director. From the start, I was very negative and felt like something would go wrong at any moment. I know the reason I did this was because I felt that if I expected the worse, and if it happened, it would make it easier for me to cope. I was super lucky to overall have a very easy pregnancy and the most supportive husband. We did have a few odd things that our doctor wanted to keep an eye on during our pregnancy. I’d come home from appointments crying, convinced that something was wrong. During these times, my husbands faith and support never wavered. He brought the happiness and light into these past nine months. Anytime something bothers me, I write about it. Below, I have a little bit of a diary from these past months of me growing a little human inside of me.

 

A Little Background:

We found out we were pregnant very early on in the pregnancy, on December 14, 2017, I was five weeks pregnant. I always said that when I did get pregnant, I never wanted to find out what sex the baby was. My husband was very supportive with this decision. After we found out we were expecting, we waited for my first doctors appointment at eight weeks to tell our parents and siblings. We then waited till I was twelve weeks until we told our friends and employers. Josiah and I decided to keep everything offline. In our eyes, the people in our lives who knew about the baby were the people that we loved and saw. By keeping it offline, we felt like we were able to keep this personal time more intimate between the two of us.

January 4th.

I found out about you on the first anniversary of Eddie’s death. That makes me smile. Like you were a gift of light during an otherwise dark day. The sun hadn’t even come up yet. I ran into the bedroom where your dad was sleeping and woke him up. He was so happy, we both were. And then, all of a sudden I was afraid. Afraid of everything that could go wrong. I thought of all of the women with pain in their hearts and wondered what made me so special? Was why I blessed with you?

March 17th.

Most of our family knows about you. The minute you turned twelve weeks old in my stomach was when your father was begging to tell everyone. He’s so excited for you. So am I, but it still doesn’t feel real. I’ve heard your heartbeat three times and each time I still wonder if this is all a dream. I keep telling myself that I’ll tell more people after the next appointment. The next heartbeat. The next ultrasound. Because what if I tell people and then at the next doctors appointment they can’t find your little heartbeat? What if I lose everything in an instant?

My close friends tell me that I’m being crazy. That I can’t let such a beautiful time be run by fear. But fear is what I have in my heart. I want to hold you so bad, that I don’t believe you’re actually mine until you’re here, in my arms. Your dad asked if I’ve felt you moving and I told him I have not. Maybe that’s another reason why I feel like this isn’t real. How can it not be real, when in two weeks this pregnancy will be halfway over, if it goes the full term. I know that you’re there. I know, that you’re a real person, with your own heart and your own body. The baby book next to my bed tells me that you weigh the same amount as three large eggs. I put three large eggs into my hand to try to comprehend that this is my life. My life created your life and I’m terrified. I love you so much that it physically hurts. I keep preparing myself for the worst because I can’t understand why I get to have this blessing in my life. Why do I get to experience this joy and this love? Why can’t I stop being so afraid of it?

April 9th.

Twenty-one weeks. That means, that I am halfway through my pregnancy. That means, that in just nineteen weeks, I’ll be holding you in my arms. People outside of our immediate family and friends are starting to know about you. Families I’ve served at the funeral home have reached out for my stomach and asked me when I’m due. I love this and hate it at the same time. There was something so precious about keeping you my little secret, and now the world can know about your existence by a quick glance at my stomach. I’m feeling safer in the sense that you’ll be here soon, but in the same breath I scold myself for letting my guard down. Nothing is guaranteed, not even holding you in my arms. But goodness, it’s all starting to feel so real, especially since I’ve started to feel you. You’re not just a dream, you are a person with your own little heartbeat and your own little movements. But you’re still so tiny and fragile. My mind races to everything that can go wrong, and in one moment I think I’m starting to understand what it feels like to be a mother. If I worry over everything that can go wrong while you’re in the safest home you’ll ever be in, what am I going to do once my body can’t protect you anymore? And how badly I want to hold you in my arms.

April 20th.

Two days ago we had an ultrasound. Your dad always gets super excited for these, and in one way, I do as well because we get to see how you’re growing. But I also get anxiety thinking about these appointments. I keep thinking that they’ll tell me something is wrong.

This was a follow-up appointment to my eighteen week scan. This would have been the time we could have found out if you’re a little boy or a little girl, but your dad and I decided to be surprised. At the first scan, they couldn’t see part of your heart and spine, so four weeks later they told us to come back, when you’d be a little bigger. Everything started out fine. They were able to see your little heart no problem. After a while, the technician asked me to turn onto my side because they still couldn’t see your spine. They had me move different ways but you still wouldn’t move positions, and so once again they told me to make an appointment for a follow up.

I didn’t think anything of this, but still asked the technician if anything was wrong. She said that they just couldn’t see your full spine, and had to get a good view in order to make certain you didn’t have Spina Bifida. My mind immediately started to race. She never said she was concerned that you had Spina Bifida, just that they wanted to rule it out by getting a clear image. For so long I’ve prayed that you’d come into our lives that I never once thought of what would happen if you weren’t 100% healthy. As I walked out to make another ultrasound appointment, the receptionist responded with, “They STILL couldn’t see everything?!” That’s not what a nervous mama to be wants to hear.

For two days I’ve been googling everything I can about this scan and babies not moving to view everything. For two days I’ve been freaking out in case something is wrong. You’re dad doesn’t understand this, and I have no logic. I just still can’t believe that I’m pregnant. That you have a little heartbeat, and that we’ve seen your face in these photos. I love you so much it hurts and I’m slowly realizing that I’m going to be worrying for the rest of my life. And that’s okay, as long as you’re here. I just want you here so badly.

May 5th.

More than halfway there. That’s what I keep telling myself. Except, yesterday we got a death call at the funeral home. For a little baby. The mama was one week behind me.

Enter every single bad thought that has ever come into my mind this pregnancy.

Her situation, her heartache, that could be me and you. And I keep telling myself not to think like that, but I can’t help it. Maybe it’s my hormones, but I feel so out of control and I hate it. Why do I get to be pregnant? Why do I get to carry this gift? I keep saying it over and over. I am so not worthy of this miracle, but I am forever grateful.

With each passing day I get more hopeful to meet you. With each family who walks through the funeral home door and asks me when I’m due, I smile a little bit bigger. It seems like it’s so real, I feel you moving inside of me, but in the same breath I’m afraid that I’m just living in this dream. I only have 15 weeks to go till I hold you in my arms. That doesn’t seem long at all, but waiting for you is like being a little kid waiting for Santa to come on Christmas Eve. It’s taking for-ev-er. I love you little baby. Please, keep growing, keep kicking, and stay healthy. I can’t wait to meet you on the outside.

July 12th.

Has it really been over two months since I’ve last updated these thoughts of mine? I can hardly believe it. We are so close to holding you in our arms. These days I’m feeling less afraid because I feel you constantly. In the beginning, I never thought you were an active baby, but as more time goes on, I feel you move more and more. These days, especially, those little movements tend to feel more like punches on the inside of me. At the crematory the other day, as I was signing paperwork, I let out an “OH!” as I bent over and I’m pretty certain the crematory operator thought I might have been going into labor.

Like this entire pregnancy, I’m still trying not to be too excited, although the closer I get to your due date, the more I can hardly wait! I know I should be letting myself feel all the excitement that comes along with pregnancy, and I do to an extent. It’s just that I’ve been working for so long in a funeral home and have buried so many babies, that I know anything can happen. Still, in my heart, I know that I’ll be holding you soon and I just can’t wait! I’m so excited to find out if a baby boy or baby girl has been growing inside of me for all these weeks. I’m excited to see if you look like your daddy. I’m excited to be able to hold you and kiss you and tell you I love you. We are so ready for you little baby.

August 15th.

Five days from our due date. Today I went to the doctors. I’ve been going a lot now that we’re in the final stretch. All tests done point to one healthy baby, and for that I am forever grateful. The only thing is, my doctor told me that you don’t seem to be in any sort of rush to get here! It’s so funny, because I feel as if I’ve had you inside of me forever, but now that I’m nearing the end of this journey it seems to be taking forever. I am blessed. You are here with me. The doctor says you are healthy. I’ve been able to carry you full term. Now I know that I’m asking a lot, but please little baby, if you could hurry up and be born happy and healthy, mama and daddy would love to meet you. This has been an emotional and long road, but I am so ready to see who you are. I am so ready to be able to love you on the outside.

August 21st.

Today is one day past your due date, little one. It’s so funny, because for so long I have prayed that we would make it to this point, and now that we are here I do not know what to do. This is a waiting game, and I’m not used to waiting. I’m used to being active, and constantly doing something, whether it’s working, or writing, or whatnot. And now, I’m sitting on my bed, with your furry big brother, just wondering when you’re going to make your appearance. In one sense, these have been the longest nine months of my life. But in another breath, I can’t believe how quickly this time has gone by. I keep praying that you arrive happy and healthy. If I am blessed with a happy and healthy baby I have everything. I know that labor will be difficult, and I know we’re not out of the woods just yet, but mama wants to hold you so bad! Please come quickly, my little happy and healthy baby!

August 29th.

I’m sitting in my living room, with your furry big brother sleeping on my legs and your father sleeping next to me on the sofa. After months of fear, hope, and excitement, you are finally here with us.

You physically came into our lives four days past your due date on August 24, 2018. After twenty-one hours of labor, you came out crying and I heard your dad yell, “It’s a girl, it’s our Daisy!”

Labor was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I would do it all over again for you. I would do every inch of this journey again for you. I count myself as one of the lucky ones. I had so much fear and uncertainty during this entire pregnancy. I did not want to talk about it publicly for fear that it wouldn’t be real. But you’re real and your here and I want to constantly cry because I can’t believe how much I love you. I have a daughter.

What Little Miss Funeral Wears (when she’s six months pregnant.)

Well, this post won’t be going live until after this little baby is born. But right now, I am currently six months pregnant and feeling every little bit of it. I know that I’ve kept my entire pregnancy offline, and by the time baby is here, you’ll all know why.

Since this is the first I’m looking at these photos, the first thought that pops into my mind is that I’ve done a very morbid maternity shoot. But alas, although these photos are documenting me growing a tiny human, the main point is to share with all you female funeral directors out there how I’m dressing for work while also expanding at the waist.

As you all know, I basically only wear dresses. This has come in very handy during this pregnancy because I haven’t had to go through the shock of not being able to button up my favorite pants (spoiler, I don’t have a pair of favorite pants…I hardly have pants at all.) Because of my love of dresses, I’ve been able to get away with not buying any maternity clothes as of yet. Instead, I’ve just been wearing very loose dresses. To try to make myself look like I have even a tiny bit of a shape, I’ve been wearing belts. I’m past the point of hiding this baby, so might as well show off the bump.

Also, six months pregnant and still wearing heels. I know that this is crazy but honestly, I don’t want to be logical. I can still get around on them and they make me feel more like myself. I feel very out of control when it comes to many things in my life nowadays, so wearing heels still makes me feel like me. Maybe next month I’ll invest in a pair of flats. Or maybe I’ll wear heels when I give birth. I’ll keep you posted.

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Dress – BCBGeneration (can be found here)

Belt – Loft (similar style here)

Tights – Rite Aid (similar style here)

Shoes – Kelly & Katie (can be found here)

 

My husband Josiah LeRoy took these photos of me in St. Stanislaus Cemetery in Cheektowaga, NY.

National Grief Awareness Day + Goodgrief App

When Eddie died, I didn’t know how to feel.

I don’t mean that in the literal sense, because I hope it’s quite obvious that I was grieving very hard, but I didn’t know where I stood relationship wise. I loved Eddie. I often describe him as my second grandfather, a protector, but we were close because we worked together. So even though he meant so much to me, when I described who he was to an outsider, they could not understand how I felt exactly because they saw our relationship as it was; co-workers.

In my grief, I needed others to understand. I needed to talk about it, and write about it, and explain how I felt so I didn’t hold it all inside. So I did those things. And even though I was met with support from others, no one really got it. In one way, I am sort of happy that others didn’t understand, because that meant that they never went through a loss like that. But one the other hand, it would have been nice to be able to really communicate with someone who had been through something similar.

Every one has a different way to cope and deal with grief. There’s no one way to grieve a loss and the road is hard and can be long. Companionship during this journey can help when you just feel overcome with emotions and feel like the days will never get better. Sometimes, it’s enough to have someone check in and see how you’re doing. Sometimes, you need someone to just be there with you, sharing in the silence. And other times, what we need is someone in a similar situation so we can explain what we’re going through and have the other person get it.

Today, August 30, 2018 is National Grief Awareness Day. I am so proud to be able to partner with the Goodgrief App and share this wonderful resource with others.

The Goodgrief App was co-founded by two women named Kim and Robynne. It’s a social network for people dealing with loss. It puts you in touch with others who have lost their partners, parents, child, relative, or friend. It allows you to connect with others who are in the same boat as you and who get what you’re going through.

I know there were so many times when I actually felt bad for talking about Eddie. It’s so silly to actually type those words, but I would sometimes feel like I was bothering those in my immediate circle because I just wanted to talk about him and get my grief out. If I would have known about this app, it would have helped me so much during the beginning of my grief journey.

There is no time frame for how long a person should grieve. This app, allows you to find others who can be a support system for you, no matter how long you may need them. The important thing to remember is that you are not alone, you are never alone, and there are wonderful individuals out there like Kim and Robynne who are working hard every day to make certain that we all have resources so we understand those truths.

For National Grief Awareness Day, I ask you all to look into the Goodgrief App and see what it can offer to you on your grief journey. I also ask you to pick up your phone, and send a little text or call someone you know who may be struggling. Let them know they’re not alone. Maybe just sit with them in their silence. Because one thing in this life is true, at one point or another we will all lose someone we love. It really does take a village and there is no need to be ashamed of that.

 

Complaining About Complaints in the Funeral Industry

Do you know what I’m really good at?

Complaining.

When it comes to funeral service, I’ve heard my fair share of people complaining about what it is that I do for a living. I think that a large reason for this is because for so long funerals and the work that funeral professionals do have been behind closed doors. If the public has no idea the job that we do, they can’t possible understand the value in it. And you know what? That’s our fault. The work of a funeral director is some of the most sacred work that we can undertake as humans. To be able to care for a deceased person is a privilege that many do not have. One of the main reasons why ‘normal’ people do not get this privilege in our Western culture is because we’ve decided that death should not be a part of our everyday lives. Even though we know that everyone who lives will die, we block this from our minds.

Our society therefore, does not understand that death is not a nine to five job. Death does not wait for a convenient time to occur for the living. Death is messy, and difficult, and heavy, and funeral professionals have chosen to carry this weight. All the while, sacrificing time with our own loved ones. Many times, taking on this job for not great pay. We do this, because we understand the importance of this work. We understand that every life deserves respect when it ends. We understand, that by caring for the dead, we are also caring for the living.

“Show me the manner in which a nation cares for its dead, and I will measure with mathematical exactness the tender mercies of its people, their respect for the laws of the land and their loyalty to high ideals.” – William Gladstone, British Prime Minister, 1809–1898

So if you’re interested, in hearing me complain about complaints that I’ve heard within the funeral industry, you can watch my video below. The work that we, as funeral professionals, do matters. Until the day comes when are nation will care for our own dead, funeral directors will continue to be there for families and help them through the death process.

Depression + Compassion Fatigue

I’ve talked about this so many times. This topic is so close to my heart because it’s still something that I struggle with day in and day out. The only difference is that I now know what to call it.

Depression is something that never truly goes away. Once you find yourself slipping into that dark hole, it’s so easy to find your way back down, time and time again. The only difference for me is that I’m now aware of what happens. For a long time, I thought that I just wasn’t meant to be a funeral director. I thought that this job was too much for me to handle. I thought that I was a weak person.  I wasn’t weak, but instead I thought I was so strong that I was invincible. I thought that I could carry the weight of others all by myself. I thought that death didn’t affect me and that I would be able to save all of these families from their grief.

But people who are truly strong, know when to ask for help.

Compassion fatigue is real. When you completely submerge yourself into helping other people and when you forget about your own well-being, you are experiencing compassion fatigue. When you want to help others so bad, that you neglect your own health and wellness, you are suffering from compassion fatigue. You are not weak, it’s just that you’re not invincible. It took me a long time to realize that, and a new job within the funeral industry to be able to begin climbing out of that dark hole. There are still dark days, but since I have more knowledge and resources I am better equiped to handle this career and the depression that can come along with it.

Everyday is a new opportunity to learn and grow. Every morning I wake up I can put my own health first while still being able to help others. It’s a balancing act, but I’m learning.

Read more about me finding my resilience here.

Finding Resilience is a burnout prevention program in partnership with Homesteaders and Dr. Jason Troyer to create resources to help you cope with difficult situations and find the joy in the important work you do to serve your community. You can sign up for a free journal or weekly emails here.

My Father’s Wake Review

Have you all heard about My Father’s Wake: How the Irish Teach Us to Live, Love, and Die by Kevin Toolis? I was extremely lucky to have been sent a copy of it a few months back and quickly read the entire book. Back in 2011, I was able to visit a friend of mine who was studying in Ireland, so this book appealed to me even more because of that!

My Father’s Wake revolves around Sonny, Kevin’s father. It starts off with him actively dying and eventually follows his entire funeral. Throughout the book, Kevin also shares different parts of his life in which the reader is able to get a deeper understanding with his relationship with death. Stories shared regarding his brother and job as a reporter allow the reader to dive more deeply into an intimate part of Kevin’s life. One thing is for certain throughout this book, death is apart of life, and should not be feared. Instead, we should allow ourselves to be part of the process of dying and the act of caring for our deceased.

Sonny’s story was so beautifully told. Kevin’s writing really forces the reader to think about how we deal with death here in the West. Growing up in the United States, my experiences with death on a personal level has been vastly different from Kevin’s. In a society where we pay professionals like myself to care for the dead, Kevin reminds us that these dead bodies are those of our own loved ones. They are not to be feared and our relationship with them in death can be beautiful and therapeutic. By bringing a death back into our home, we are better able to acknowledge it and honor the life of our loved ones.

Below I have my video review of My Father’s Wake: How the Irish Teach Us to Live, Love, and Die. After you watch it make certain to order your copy here. Honestly, do it, because this book is worth it.