Note from the editor: This is the first of two columns from Eveline MacDougall about alternative approaches to death and dying.

For some, topics related to death are taboo, yet those seeking alternatives to mainstream options yearn for open discussions.

On Thursday, Jan. 19, locals have a chance to share thoughts when longtime hospice volunteer Trouble Mandeson facilitates conversation in Green Field Market’s community room from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m.

Home wake and green burial

Greenfield resident Lori Gordon’s husband didn’t wish to discuss death, “yet he wasn’t afraid of dying,” she said. “I’ve always been interested in the topic, long before Stephan got sick, so we found middle ground by having brief discussions.”

When Stephan died at age 75 on March 14, 2021, Lori’s loved ones helped her take “beautiful steps. It was painful to lose Steph, but after experiencing his death, home wake and green burial, I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Stephan had asked not to be buried for three days after he stopped breathing. “The hospice chaplain helped me find ways to fulfill Steph’s wish,” said his widow.

Several family members moved in for Stephan’s last days. “It was warm and supportive, despite the sadness,” said Lori Gordon. “We wanted a green burial, and chose West Leyden cemetery because it’s peaceful, with rolling hills, trees and animals.”

According to a Green Burial Council website, “Green burial is a way of caring for the dead with minimal environmental impact that aids in the conservation of natural resources, reduction of carbon emissions, protection of worker health, and the restoration and/or preservation of habitat.”

The use of ice packs allowed for a three-day home wake, and loved ones ran the household so Lori Gordon could be free to sit with her husband’s body.

The body was washed, wrapped in a shroud made by Shutesbury resident Dina Stander, and placed in a coffin made by friend and neighbor Daryl Beck, who used Leyden evergreen lumber and attached antique skis on each side of the casket to serve as handles. “Stephan and Daryl went skiing a lot, so that was a nice touch,” said Lori Gordon.

She wanted to avoid embalming and other common practices, but was grateful that a funeral home transported the casket to the cemetery. “Kostanski’s helped with paperwork, too, and cemetery volunteers were very helpful. Everyone was kind and patient.”

Stephan Gordon was laid to rest by friends, neighbors, former chiropractic patients, and people he’d worked with on the Franklin Community Cooperative Board of Directors and in other groups. “Steph loved this community,” said his wife. “We bade farewell to him with beauty and grace.”

Life, death, and burial at home

While some cultures and religions require burial immediately following death, others allow for leaving a body in place for a period of time. Susie and Les Patlove practiced Zen Buddhism for decades, and when Les died at their Charlemont home on August 27, 2022, loved ones held a home wake.

“Les and I agreed we didn’t want unfamiliar men in suits whisking our bodies away,” said Susie Patlove. “We wanted to die at home, giving loved ones time to sit with us and just be.” Both had experienced scenarios with loved ones’ bodies being removed too quickly.

“I couldn’t have processed losing Les if his body had left immediately,” said Susie Patlove. “Loved ones helped me wash his body and dress him in clean clothes. We obtained three sets of Techni-ice,” referring to ice packs that come in flat sheets.

“Les died late Friday, and visitors came throughout Saturday and Sunday, just as they’d come the week he was dying,” said Susie Patlove. “I wanted one person at a time, with visitors sitting quietly. The last few days of his life, I asked people not to talk to Les, because he found it exhausting. After he died, we witnessed a body that was no longer Les, but it felt like we were helping to conduct his spirit onwards.”

Around the time Les Patlove was diagnosed with a terminal illness, the intentional community where the Patloves lived secured legal rights to conduct green burials on their shared land. “We’d buried the ashes of three loved ones on our land, and erected headstones,” said Susie Patlove, “but some of us didn’t wish to be cremated. We wanted an alternative.”

Some green burials involve just a shroud, but Susie Patlove wanted some kind of casket. “Our middle son, Will, went out to the wood shop – where Les built gorgeous furniture during his long career – and found a door Les had built, one that had been in our home for years. Will and our friend Gregory Cangialosi built a simple, beautiful casket using the door plus lumber left over from other projects.”

Inside the casket, Les Patlove’s body was wrapped in a quilt his wife made while listening to him read bedtime stories to their three sons; the quilt covered the couple’s bed for years. The casket was showered with rose petals before loved ones covered it with Charlemont soil. Les Patlove was laid to rest on land where he’d lived most of his life and where the Patloves homesteaded and created astonishing beauty, including lush gardens and many genres of live music.

Letting go of a child

Losing a longtime spouse can feel wrenching. For most people, imagining the loss of a child is in a whole other category, and commonly tops lists of the worst things that could happen.

Pamela Snow knows that worst thing intimately. Her daughter was 13 when a vehicular accident on Mother’s Day, 2019, left Ursula in a coma from which doctors said she was unlikely to recover. Ursula died two weeks later, on May 27, 2019. Pamela Snow witnessed the accident involving her only child, and continues to deal with resulting trauma. Yet she’s able to speak movingly about choices she made in the face of staggering grief.

Upon Ursula’s arrival at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center’s pediatric critical care unit in Manchester, New Hampshire, “doctors were clear that she was unlikely to survive,” said Snow. “But I needed hope, to allow for that possibility that she could be saved.”

When she first entered her daughter’s hospital room, said Snow, a dozen medical personnel were hard at work tending to Ursula. “There was every type of machine you can imagine: tubes, beeping apparatus, monitors … it was overwhelming.”

Soon, though, the room was decorated with flowers, cards, banners, photos, drawings and origami shapes, many from classmates of Ursula’s at the Greenfield Center School and Four Rivers Charter Public School. Emails, calls and texts poured in.

Although she didn’t want a deluge of visitors, Pamela Snow welcomed those she thought might help her child recover. “We had instrumental musicians, singers, energy healers, chanting, and lots of praying. One friend brought a crystal singing bowl; another brought a marimba. A Native American elder came with rattles.”

A friend acted as “traffic cop” to keep the scene from spinning out of control. “Despite the activity, it was surprisingly calm,” said Snow. “The staff had never seen anything like it. We pushed the limits, but the staff kindly allowed us to do what we needed. The hospital chaplain said, ‘This has opened my eyes to what’s possible.’ I appreciated that openness.”

When Pamela Snow understood that her child would not recover, she wanted to get Ursula “outdoors under the sky, in the sunlight and wind, one more time. She spent the majority of her childhood in nature.” Though bringing a comatose patient outside was challenging, hospital staff accommodated the request.

“We wanted to take Ursula off life support with the earth right beneath her,” said Snow. “The closest we could get was a hospital patio that normally served as staff break space. They rolled her bed out, still hooked to machines. The patio was crowded with nurses, doctors, the chaplain, the hospital social worker and our family. There were lots of tears.”

With favorite music playing over speakers, Ursula was unhooked from the breathing apparatus.“It surprised me that she continued to breathe on her own,” said Pamela Snow. “They unhooked everything and rolled Ursula back to her room. I laid with her for many hours until she stopped breathing. She died in my arms.”

Funeral home personnel transported Ursula’s body. “That felt unnatural,” said Snow, “but there are many regulations about transporting a body. It created a distance, yet I have to say it was also a relief.” Buckland’s Trow Cemetery was chosen for a green burial.

“Ursula was buried in a beautiful, biodegradable coffin created by Reed Arahood of the Art Garden in Shelburne Falls,” said Snow. The coffin was decorated with images of cardinals and dogwood, to match Ursula’s gravestone motifs.

Snow feels that “bodies are made to go back to the earth. It’s part of the cycle. I don’t believe we’re meant to use chemicals and be buried in concrete.” She hopes more green burial sites can open up in our region. “I respect the activists who are working to make that happen.”

Pamela Snow said her daughter was comfortable discussing and writing about death. “When Ursula was 11, her treasured kitty died. She wrote a letter she titled ‘Dear Universe’ which shows she understood that life and death are full of mysteries,” said Snow.

“Where do you go after you die?” wrote Ursula Snow. “Is it even a place? Do you have consciousness?”

Ursula wrote a reply from the Universe: “Death is a tricky subject, since it’s different for everyone. (It’s) mostly a mystery, but I’ll give you some insight. You’ve had many heroes there on earth that you think died, but they have not. They are immortal. They live on in your memories. They are people who brought hope to your world … people who moved your world closer to memories of deepest wisdom.”

Eveline MacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope” and an artist, musician, gardener and homeschooling mom. To contact: eveline@amandlachorus.org.

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