I was doing some DOSTADNING lately and I found an article I had tucked away from some 5 years ago from Time Magazine and I thought it was more than appropriate to share with you during a Wednesday Blog Post which I always try to feature some educational piece on how to be better Caring Catalysts in all phases and forms of our lives

DOSTADNING, is a Swedish hybrid of the words for death and cleaning. And as morbid as it sounds, that’s exactly what death cleaning is: the process of cleaning house before you die, rather then leaving it up to your loved ones to do after you’re gone.

A book called The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning makes the case that the task isn’t morbid at all. Author Margareta Magnusson—a Swedish artist who describes herself as somewhere between age 80 and 100—says it’s “more like a relief,” and that it has benefits you can enjoy while you’re still very much alive.

“Generally people have too many things in their homes,” says Magnusson in a YouTube video posted by the book’s publisher. “I think it’s a good thing to get rid of things you don’t need.” Magnusson says she’s always death cleaned, “because I want to have it nice around me, keep some order.”

Magnusson says people should start thinking about death cleaning as soon as they’re old enough to start thinking about their own mortality. “Don’t collect things you don’t want,” she says. “One day when you’re not around anymore, your family would have to take care of all that stuff, and I don’t think that’s fair.”

The Death Cleaning method bears similarities to that of the tidying-up guru Marie Kondo: Keep what you love and get rid of what you don’t. But while Kondo tells people to trash, recycle or donate what they discard, Magnusson recommends giving things you no longer want to family and friends “whenever they come over for dinner, or whenever you catch up with them,” reports the Australian website Whimn.

However, Magnusson does advocate for keeping sentimental objects like old letters and photographs. She keeps a “throw-away box,” which she describes as things that are “just for me.” When she dies, her children know they can simply throw that box away, without even looking through its contents.

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning is out for U.S. publication If the trend catches on stateside, it could be a good way for families to discuss sensitive issues that might otherwise be hard to bring up, says Kate Goldhaber, a family therapist and assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral neurosciences at Loyola Medicine. I am already working this into one of my presentations, THE SPIRITUALITY OF DEATH AND DYING

“It seems like a nice, proactive approach to facilitating cooperation and communication among families early on in the aging process, when you’re not too entrenched in the difficult parts later on,” says Goldhaber. “There can also be something very empowering and healthy about taking care of your own space and making it more organized while you’re still around.”

Death cleaning may have benefits for the cleaners themselves, and not just for their loved ones, says Goldhaber. Some research suggests that clutter in the home can raise stress levels and reduce productivity. As adults get older, having a house full of stuff may also raise their risk for falls and create other health and safety hazards.

Goldhaber points out that many people may engage in a type of death cleaning without calling it that—when they downsize from a large house to a small apartment as they get older, for instance. “It’s a new way of thinking about the grunt work that comes along with those transitions, which can be really stressful,” she says.

If bringing up the concept of death with aging loved ones still feels wrong, Goldhaber suggests rephrasing the idea. “If you present it as, ‘Let’s organize the house so it’s a more enjoyable place for you to live and for us to have holidays,’ it might be better received than ‘Let’s throw away your stuff now so we don’t have to sort through it later,’” she says. “It can be fun, even late in life, to redecorate and declutter, and it can be a great thing for families to do together.”

Magnusson says that death cleaning is an ongoing process that’s never truly finished. “You don’t know when you are going to die, so it goes on and on,” she says in the video.

Her daughter chimes in, stating the obvious: Death cleaning ends with death. Magnusson laughs and nods. “Then it stops,” she says, “of course, finally.”

Maybe we all need to be doing some serious DOSTNADING before we die
but as we live
know that before we put anything in a box
OURSELVES INCLUDED
K         N        O       W
t  h  a  t
DEATH IS NOT THE LAST THING THAT HAPPENS TO US
Our lives
as we know them
will not continue as we know them
b            u            t
SHELVED AND BOXED
we will not be.          .          .

No matter what religion or spiritual path you follow (or don’t), there’s one topic that fascinates us all:What happens after we die?

Reincarnation? Eternal Heaven? Total blackness and non-existence? Something totally different?

No matter what we believe though, there’s a few basic facts about death that we all know to be true.

The first fact of death is the obvious:
We’ve all been born with a sexually transmitted disease
called: LIFE
and none of us gets out of here
A  L  I  V  E

YES.   .   . we are all going to die. Yes, every single person on this planet is going to die someday, somehow, somewhere.

The second fact is less obvious:

After we die, our lives will be etched in the hearts of others. We live eternally. Forever. In other people.

That’s what today’s video is really about.

It’s about the relationships we forge during our lives that are so powerful they impact people even after we die.

Today’s movie is called “The Funeral.” It starts with a little bit of humor, and it quickly goes deep and gets to the heart of the matter.  .  .a heart that beats like no other when filled with a love that death can’t begin to part let alone forget.     .     .

SO HERE’S THE DEAL:

THE DEEPER YOU LOVE
THE DARKER YOU HURT
so.          .          .
LOVE DEEPER, STILL
LOVE DEEPER, MORE
L                   O                  V                  E     

DEATH
has a Waiting Room
that invites Everyone
but no one wants
to sit
The TV is broken
The magazines are out of date
The chairs are uncomfortable
The coffee is bad
The rattling water cooler
never refreshes
The Clientele
too familiar and annoying
with their hacking
incessantly loud obnoxious yawnings
and an occasional party noise
You’re not sure that comes from
a person or the faux vinyl seat
you never intended to quite fit
It’s a room with poor ventilation
The carpet is worn
but not faded
stubbornly holding onto its colors
and a scent that can’t quite be
identified or replicated
There’s the dim light
that can never be squinted Brighter
All this
and just like that
You’re no longer there
–noticed–
Even before your name is mispronounced
to come forth
DEATH
is a finish line
We all run from
to only find out
at the End
we’ve all madly sprinted
Our Way Towards
(c o n t i n u o s l y)

Everyone feels like a shadow of themselves
when they’re not themselves
when your sick
m i s e r a b l e. . .

I hadn’t been able to go to the bathroom all night
I tried everything:
Walking
Jumping
Taking a Shower
Taking a Bath
Drinking Water
Taking an additional pill that had been prescribed
Laying down
Reclining
Standing
Leaning forward
NOTHING
Not a DROP
. . .and what made it worse was I had a huge event day; a funeral I was conducting of a friend of Thirty plus years on behalf of her family and an afternoon wedding for a young couple who already couldn’t get the first two ministers they asked to marry them because both were out of town;

I COULDN’T BE SICK

I called my family doctor and he urged me to go to the Emergency Department and when I told him of my time schedule he said I had no choice.

I arrived at the hospital and immediately began singing my song of woe and how I literally needed to be treated and released within an hour so I could make it to the funeral and they assured me that I would be able to make that commitment.

When I was back in the room a nurse came in and began taking my information and asked me what I did for a living.
When I told here that I was a hospice chaplain, she asked me if it was for Hospice of the Western Reserve and when I confirmed that, without looking at me, still typing in information she said, “My daughter just died with Hospice of the Western Reserve a couple of months ago.

She went and got a catheter kit to relieve the “URINARY RETENTION” problem, I readied myself for the procedure and she began asking me about the team members that took care of her daughter and I realized at that very moment, I was no longer a patient and she was no longer a nurse, she was a grieving mother who was re-telling the story of her daughter and I was her chaplain, her counselor. I don’t remember the procedure, as quick as it was because of our conversation.

She stated that we were done as if the instant relief I felt of not being able to go to the bathroom for nearly 10 hours didn’t let me know WE ARE DONE. She told me she would be back with instructions and my discharge papers and I was dressed in my suit/tie and ready to go when she came back to go over instructions and to have me sign my discharge papers. Before she reached the curtain to leave, she turned around and told me that this was her first day back following her daughter’s death and that I was her first patient. She asked me, with welled tears in her eyes:

“HOW DID YOU KNOW TO COME IN THIS MORNING?”

I wanted to say, truthfully, “I HAD TO PEE!”

It was a much deeper question with an even deeper answer:

“BECAUSE WE NEEDED EACH OTHER”

We gave each other a hug
and now, even a couple of weeks later,
it’s so much more than a memory
and certainly a blog post. . .

When I was taking a Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) class in Seminary over 40 years ago, I remember our instructor once telling us that we need to remember, often when one that we serve goes into the Emergency Department it signifies an event that has been EMERGING.

Doing hospice work for 25 years now and hospital chaplaincy for thirty-two years I’ve been enlightened to KNOW that there are no accidents. No chance meetings. No coincidences.

If you dare yourself to believe we all are actually connected and that one’s pain is another’s and one’s happiness is as well. . .

WHAT IS EMERGING FROM YOU. . .
WHAT IS IT YOU CAN GIVE WHEN YOU CAME TO GET. . .
WHAT BROUGHT YOU TO ANOTHER PLACE THAN THE ONE YOU THOUGHT YOU ARRIVED. . .
?

Why would WE ever not
reach out
connect
or more. . .
HOLD ON?

IT MAKES ME WONDER

Can it be that when you are truly
HOLDING SPACE
for one
YOU too,
Are having that very sacred
S P A C E
being HELD for YOU as well. . .

IT MAKES ME WONDER
(maybe that’s the
g l o r i o u s
E M E R G I N G
in us)

W    E          C    R    O    A    K

It’s an actual app you can get on your smart phone and five times a day it reminds you that you’re going to die. Now gives some nice messages and philosophical view points:

a n d

a   n  d

a   n   d

a     n     d

F  I  V  E       T  I  M  E  S       A       D   A   Y

 But no matter how it’s sweetened, no matter how the edges are softened, the fact of the matter is true:
We   are   going   to   die;  or   as   the   app   promises:

W   E        C   R   O   A   K

You’d think after being with hospice since 1994;
Working as a hospital chaplain since 1987
and being an ordained minister since 1980
I      would      get      this.           .          .

Make no mistake about it, I believe it. I know it, I know we’re gonna die,
I know I’m gonna die; I know it, I know that I know it, I’d bet my life that I know it      (no pun intended)  but if I didn’t wake up tomorrow morning, or if I didn’t make it home tonight,  or if I had a heart attack after putting the period on this Blog post or even in the middle of it,
I would be the most shocked person in the world.           .          .

This past week a colleague of mine died. He was a true GENTLE MAN; One of the kindest most compassionate people I’ve ever worked with or have ever known. He’s younger than me, has had six less Christmas’ than I’ve celebrated;  He’s been a caregiver for his mother and his brother and other family members and countless hospital,l nursing home, and hospice patients. To him working was never a job or a vocation; caring for people was his lifestyle. He rivaled no others in the care that he gave.
His love, his compassion, his gentleness, his care,  didn’t keep him from getting pancreatic cancer; it didn’t keep him from dying. Though he gave so much in a not so perfect world, he wasn’t  immune from this thing that we call death, in fact, DEATH  awaits all of us and serves as a reminder, at any given time, any given moment.          .          .
I      may      be      next.

That’s not  the tragedy if there is one.           .          .
The WOE is I might not be aware of living every moment that I have available to me. In all the years that I’ve served others, not one dying patient has shown me in return how to die, but I can’t remember one who hasn’t illustrated in living vivid color how to live.

W   E        C     R     O     A     K

We  die
The question is do we ever really
L  I  V  E
Fully. exuberantly. zestfully. without any regrets.          .          .
We don’t answer with our mouth‘s or thoughts only with her actions on this one;
A      N      O      T      H      E      R
well.        .       .
they don’t get to judge whether  or not we’ve  done those things with this
L      I      V      I      N      G
w e    d o.          .          .

I met with his team this past Tuesday and we remembered him and honored him with reminiscing,  once upon a timing, and remember when’s;
We laughed; we cried; but most of all we remembered;

I asked them as I now ask you, if we had an opportunity to walk through a set of magical doors and it meant that we were no longer shed a tear we would have no regrets there would be no pain of loss bereavement in grief would have no means whatsoever but it would also mean that we never had the chance the opportunity to blessing to have a loved one in our life would you choose the walk through those magical doors that somehow right now don’t seem quite so magical.     .     .

Doubtful, huh?

Maybe it was because of his age
or just his gentle kindness
How can you not ask this question of him and others:
WHY
HOW COME
WHAT FOR.          .          ?

But it also means having the guts to flip that coin over and ask the same questions of WHY
WHAT FOR
HOW COME
a loved one ever  GIFTS  themselves in our lives.     .     ?

I passed a basket of stones around and instructed each person there to let us don’t use them instead of them choosing one. I reached in and chose a black one I didn’t look for it I didn’t go by for your site or touch your sense of smell when I pulled it out

IT  looked a little marred,  scarred,  almost as if the stone itself was wrapping around its imperfections. It instantly reminded me of him;  that’s what he did; He wrapped himself around your heart; your pain; your anxiety; your fear; and had a way of making it better just with an infectious smile.

After we each had a rock, a stone which chose us, I told them that there is one thing stronger than the stone or rock which is ageless in our life and that’s love that’s why we have grave stones or grave markers made of granite, or rock or some kind of hard stone because it not only survives the test of time, but it’s only surpassed, over powered, and falls severely short of one thing, STRONGER:

O  U  R     L  O  V  E

True, right.     .     .?

MEMORIES are nothing unless interwoven with  OUR  LOVE

W   E       C   R   O   A   K

Yes

W e    d i e.          .          .

And our memories ~~well they mean nothing, nothing at all unless there’s love attached to them that literally makes them everything that they were everything that they are in everything that they’ve always be.

Wow. We are a bunch of losers, aren’t we.          .          .
We’ve lost not keys, not glasses, not remote controls, or pens; not an article of clothing or piece of jewelry;

NO.          .          . we’ve lost.          .          . lost people that are so dear to us;
Precious, priceless Gifts and yet, having lost, look at all we’ve gained because they have been a part of our lives and always will be
And that never croaks or dies

THEIR’S

is a RIPPLE

that has lapped upon  OUR  SHORES

Hopefully, that’ll cause endless RIPPLES

that’ll lap up on the Shores of Countless Others.             .          .

The Ultimate Response?

TWO   WORDS:

T H A N K     Y O U