Caleb Wilde
(218 comments, 980 posts)
Posts by Caleb Wilde
Ten Gift Ideas for the Morbid Friends in Your Life
Click the title of the item and it will link you to the site where you can purchase said item.
1. Graveyard Moss Terrarium
2. Funeral Director Mortician Hearse Christmas Ornament
3. Moira Ring
4. “All My Friends Are Dead” Book
5. Embalmer’s Training School Candleholder set
6.Skeletal foot hand-painted shoes
7. Limited Mini Squishable Grim Reaper
8. Embalming Fluid Flask
9. Blood Splash Chopping Board.
10. Embalming Tools Watch
The Guardians of Death: A Short Story
© 2013 Scott Cresswell, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio
Lyle celebrated her twelfth birthday nearly a year after the end of The War. It was a long, oppressive war that left the world impoverished, broken and depressed. Like many children her age, Lyle’s father had died in The War, leaving Lyle, her mother and her grandfather together in their two room apartment.
Lyle’s family situation wasn’t unique, but she considered herself lucky. She didn’t have any memory of her father, any grief that plagued her soul during the bitter cold nights of winter. She was an infant when he died and all she had were photos of him in his Army uniform, holding her tight like he knew what his future held.
All the fatherly things that fathers do for their little girls had been assumed by her grandfather. Her mother worked when she could find it, and her grandfather stayed at home in their small apartment; he cooked (his potato casserole was Lyle’s favorite), did the cleaning when he felt able and tended to Lyle like a daughter, tucking her in bed and telling her bedtime stories when work keep Lyle’s mother late. They shared giggles, lots of hugs and both loved stargazing, especially in the winter months when the air was clear and the stars seemed brighter. “It’s in the darkness, “ her grandfather would say, “that you can see the stars. And it’s in the winter night that our eyes can see them most clearly.”
Lyle knew her grandfather was getting old. His cane became more of an aid with each passing day. And she know – from the stories told to her by her friends — that one day the Guardians would come unannounced and take grandfather away. The Guardians, she was told, were a group of people commissioned by society to shield us from the pain of dying and death. The War, they said, caused too much heart-ache and the state of the world was too depressed to confront the realities of death. “It’s just better”, Lyle was told, “that the Guardians deal with it. They’re professional. It’s their job.”
Lyle dreaded the day her grandfather would leave. And the older she became the more she feared it. Like a specter that grew longer with the setting sun, so her dread of grandfather’s death grew each passing day.
And then it happened. She came back from school and … gone.
Tears streaming down her face, she begged her mother,
“Where is he? Why can’t I see him? Is he dead? Is he in pain?”
The questions flowed as profusely as the tears.
And Lyle’s mother did the best she could …
“He’s very close to death … probably a couple hours … he’s with the Guardians at their home … they’ll take care of him …. that their job.”
Lyle ran to the bedroom. The answers didn’t satisfy. She slammed the door shut and devised a plan. As soon as the apartment had become quiet, Lyle jumped out of bed, grabbed her winter coat and tiptoed out the back door. The stars provided enough light for her to make her way to the Guardians’ home.
In and out of the back door came the Guardians, carrying dying bodies in and going out with the dead ones. Dressed in their black clothes, they moved effortlessly, methodically and solemnly. It didn’t take long for Lyle to find an opening in the rhythm to enter. She slipped inside and slowly made her way down the darkly lit hallways, peaking into the various crowded rooms, looking for her beloved grandfather. A lone, decrepit figure strode up and down the hallway, keeping watch over the hundreds of those dying and those already dead.
In the corner of a tightly packed large room she found him. His chest rising and falling at a slow pace. Eyes closed. Unresponsive. She grabbed his hand. And whether by miracle or reflex, he grabbed back. A grip that was at first tight, but as the night continued, slowly lost it’s strength.
She awoke in a daze, not knowing how long she had fallen asleep. Perhaps an hour or more. Lyle was so used to falling asleep next to her grandfather, that she must have crawled into his small cot at some point in the night. His body was cold. His lips a blueish gray. His face a ghostly white. He was dead.
Wiggling out of the cot and onto the floor, she knelt down beside him and — like he had done for her so many times — ran her fingers through the strands of silver that graced his familiar head. She began to cry, but these weren’t the empty tears of hopelessness and confusion she had cried a couple hours earlier. These were tears full of memory, of love; tears of grief.
Within seconds, the figure of that old, decrepit Guardian stood at the doorway. His keen eyes identified the source of the crying and he barked:
“Don’t you understand how dangerous this is?! Don’t you understand that once you touch death” he took a deep angry breath, “it will never, ever leave you?”
In as much defiance as a twelve year old could muster, she leaned over and kissed her grandfather’s cold face. Tears dripped from her nose.
And then words welled up from Lyle’s deep and out of her mouth:
“This is my grandfather. And this was my final act of love!”
The words came with such power from such a small person that the Guardian was momentarily shocked. The room Lyle was in was dark and the dim light from the hall outlined the Guardians frame, obscuring his face from her sight. He stood taller, gathered himself, puffed out his chest and replied,
“We are the Guardians. This is OUR job because you cannot and should not do it on your own.”
Lyle quickly retorted in a simplistic but honest statement, “I can do what my heart tells me I can I do.”
The Guardian stammered, “Leave now. You are not meant to see this. You are not meant to be here.”
She trotted out of the room, past the Guardian and quickly proceeded out the back door as the Guardian shouted, “You had better wash your face and your hands … !!!”
Lyle walked back home. It was still dark, but the stars seemed brighter than ever.
SURVIVING GRIEF AND THE HOLIDAYS
Today’s guest post is written by Pastor Dieter Reda:
© 2010 seyed mostafa zamani, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio
It was one day before Christmas Eve. The casket stood at the front of the decorated church, almost literally under the Christmas tree. In less than 24 hours the place would be packed to capacity and ringing with joyful carols and other festive music. But today it was the scene of the funeral of a prominent church member. In the casket was a 51 year old father of three: two teenagers and a twelve-year old. For them and their widowed mother this scene was surreal. The husband and father had died of cancer. The family had hoped he would at least make it to Christmas. A few days earlier, when I met with them in the home, the widow bitterly remarked, “some Christmas this is going to be.”
What does a young preacher in his twenties say in such a situation? Seminary had not prepared me for this (or a lot of other things still to unfold in my ministry). Fortunately – or not—there had been some preparations. I had been handed a piece of paper, on which were written, in the handwriting of the deceased, Scripture Readings, hymns, and a terse note: “I want you to preach on the following text which I have chosen.” That paper was indeed the framework for the service and it allowed us not to have to comment on the obvious by referring to Christmas.
That was more than 30 years ago. And while I never again had something quite that dramatic, I did have to again and again comfort people who were facing the first Christmas without a loved one, or the last Christmas with a terminally ill family member. And hence, these little pointers.
The first thing I would say is that there is no right or wrong way to handle grief at Christmas, or at any other time for that matter. What is helpful to some, will be useless for someone else. How you choose to handle the holidays will depend on your religious beliefs, your cultural customs, how you are emotionally “wired” and many other factors. What follows is intended only as some pointers to liberate you from the fear of the holidays.
- Don’t let anyone tell you what you should or should not do. It is possible that you will receive unsolicited advice from people who have good intentions, but are lacking in courtesy and tact. Listen if you must, but DO what you think is best and helpful to you.
- Should you “Skip” Christmas? It may surprise some to hear me as a minister say, “by all means—if that is your way of coping.” No one is under any obligation to “keep Christmas”. I reminded my congregation that the early Christian church got along quite fine without celebrating Jesus’s birth, and nobody knows the date on which he was born, except that it more probably than not wasn’t on December 25. If Christmas is just too much to handle emotionally one year, go easy on yourself and dispense with all of it…sending cards, buying gifts, going to parties, or even going to church. The family that I wrote about above did not attend the Christmas Eve service the day after the funeral, and nobody faulted them.
- If skipping Christmas is not for you, then consider a “different” Christmas. While some people take comfort in keeping old traditions alive, others find it more helpful to invent new traditions. Moving the venue of the celebrations can give a fresh perspective on things. I remember the first Christmas after my mother died, we moved the family celebration from my parents’ home to my home. For me the added work was a wonderful distraction and it acknowledged that Christmases would permanently be different.
- Try not to mask your grief. Some people do that by throwing themselves into as much activity and as much merriment as possible. Others avoid mentioning the name of their loved one thinking that will bring “bad luck” or make things worse. But the contrary might be true. Christmas is a nostalgic time and some have shared with me how helpful it was to remember the good Christmases past, even if that brings on tears. You might find yourself crying one minute and laughing the next, even as you remember some of the fun times with your loved one.
- Go Easy on yourself. Particularly if you are the caring and nurturing type who likes to take care of everyone else.
- Accept Gestures of Help and Support. This is a double edged sword. People who are bereaved often feel neglected and left out after the funeral. On the other hand, people have told me how they tried to reach out to bereaved friends only to be repeatedly rebuffed. Finally they gave up. If someone offers to do something for you like provide a meal, a gift, or help with a chore do accept it graciously…or ask for a rain check if the time just isn’t right.
And How Can You Be Helpful to Someone Who is Grieving Over the Holidays?
- Don’t Assume that because someone is in mourning, they want to be Excluded from Social Invitations. Let them make that decision. Perhaps being included, especially in things they used to do with a group of friends, is just what they need. Do invite them, but give them the freedom to decline if that is better for them.
- Don’t Pretend that the Deceased Never Existed. Friends are sometimes afraid to mention the name of someone who died, fearing it will upset the family. The truth is, they are thinking about their loved one a lot, and some have told me how hurtful it is when others behave as if the person was forgotten. Mention the deceased by name, when it would naturally come up in conversation, such as talking about memories – Christmas or otherwise.
- Should I send a Christmas card? There is no right or wrong answer to that. It would depend on what your usual custom is, how close to Christmas the death or funeral is etc. If you always exchanged cards, it might seem unusual to your friend if you suddenly stopped. In addition to the pre-printed prose that comes in the card, a hand-written note that you are thinking of them in a special way will probably by meaningful. As in other expressions of sympathy, avoid clichés, and unhelpful platitudes.
- Avoid saying, “If there is anything I can do, please call”. Most people will not take you up on it, thinking they are imposing or otherwise inconveniencing you. Also many people who say that, do it to ease their own conscience (at least we offered!) even if they have no intention of doing anything. It is much more thoughtful to find a need and meet it. Don’t ask if you can bring over a meal or shovel their snow or whatever. Just show up and do it. Or keep in touch with phone calls, emails, or visits, depending on your relationship. Perhaps you will become aware of something that “you can do”.
- Be Persistent but not overbearing. Be there when you are needed, but give your friends space when they need that. Be a ready and willing listener, but don’t ask prying questions.
- Invitations to small gatherings or perhaps a lunch with just the two of you might be more helpful than a large party (although consider # 1 above)
- Don’t Pretend that Everything is fine like it used to be. This Christmas will be different for your friends, and perhaps it will be difficult. The mirth and the joyful celebration of others may underscore the pain your friend is feeling. Don’t pretend by telling them to “get their mind off things” or say “you’ll feel better if you ….” Help your friend to make the best out of a difficult situation. They will remember your thoughtfulness…or your insensitivity for years to come.
Dieter Reda has been an ordained Minister for the past 34 years and served various churches in central and western Canada. Since 2003 he is senior pastor at Mission Baptist Church in Hamilton, Ontario (Canada). His blog of pastoral musings on various issues is at www.dieterreda.com and you can follow him on Twitter @Dieterreda.
Supreme Court in Utah Allows Woman to Marry Her Dead Boyfriend
This out of SALT LAKE CITY via the Standard:
The Utah Supreme Court has ruled that a Farr West woman can posthumously be married to her late husband.
The ruling, released Tuesday, sides with Janetta Gardiner, who filed for marriage to her romantic partner Kenneth Vanderwerff, who died in April 2010.
Vanderwerff, who was 78 when he died, was in a relationship with Gardiner since 2007. A few months after he died, Gardiner filed a petition for a posthumous marriage between the two, making her the administrator of his estate.
Relatives of Vanderwerff filed a formal intervention of Gardiner’s petition, which the 2nd District Court of Ogden granted, dismissing the marriage petition. Gardiner appealed to the Supreme Court, which reinstated the marriage.
Okay. This story is a little weird. But, the situation behind this “marriage” isn’t weird at all … in fact, it’s very common.
The reason Janetta Gardiner wanted a legal marriage to her deceased partner Kenneth Vanderwerff had to do with Kenneth’s monetary and property assets.
Apparently, when Kenneth died, Kenneth’s extended family wanted to administer Kenneth’s estate, leaving Janetta without any of Kenneth’s assets. Janetta argued that otherwise and was eventually granted her marriage to Kenneth, thus enabling her to administer Kenneth’s estate … presumably to herself.
Some people in Janetta and Kenneth’s situation assume that they have a “common-law marriage”. But, it’s important to remember that common-law marriage is only recognized in these states.
- Alabama.
- Colorado.
- District of Columbia.
- Georgia (if created before 1/1/97)
- Idaho (if created before 1/1/96)
- Iowa.
- Kansas.
- Montana.
AND common-law marriage isn’t the equivalent of a domestic partnership.
Most (all?) of Janetta’s problems could have been resolved if KENNETH HAD A WILL.
A will is the best way to resolve some problems that can arise in blended families. If you’re not married to your partner; or you are married and your family is blended; or you’re married and you family ISN’T blended; or you’re not married and have no plans to ever be married … prepare a will. For serious. It’s important. Don’t delay.
