“Earth that nourished thee, shall claim thy growth, to be resolved to earth again.” –William Cullen Bryant, Thanatopsis, 1881.
As I write this article, our whole village has been working together in preparation for the passing of Kurt Kessner, a beloved elder community member. In doing so, I am learning what it means to walk alongside the process of death and dying in the spirit of our DIY community. Bryant wrote about death as a natural part of life, and I suppose it makes sense that an ecovillage like ours would be interested in honoring the natural rhythms of this final passage.
In a future article we will likely share more about Kurt’s life and the many contributions he has made to our community. Today, however, I want to focus on the beautiful and deeply moving way our community has gathered to support Kurt, his wife, Alline, and one another.
This is Keith, writing from my own perspective after a week filled with hugs, tears, conversations, and gravedigging.
Over the past week, I have witnessed an extraordinary outpouring of love, care, and connection. We have welcomed friends and family offering their presence and support. Meal trains have helped nourish those most involved. A procession of rideshares has carried us back and forth to the hospital. Community members have coordinated the logistical planning and labor involved in the burial and ceremony. I have seen a tremendous amount of grace and patience and warmth from so many in our community, along with a willingness to step forward wherever help is needed.
This is the first time I (and many others) have experienced a death in this community. Before I arrived in 2023, our community had walked this path on other occasions. Those who remember the past losses of Dennis and Tamar have shared their wisdom, memories, and practical knowledge, helping us navigate the legal and logistical hurdles of burying our own dead here on our land. I have had an eye-opening education on the rules and regulations surrounding the right to care for our loved ones at home.
But more profound than navigating the practicalities has been learning how comfortable it can be to openly talk about death and dying with my community. Like many in the United States, I am familiar with the ways we commonly obfuscate the details and hide the processes around death and (sometimes are legally required to) relinquish much of the process of caring for the bodies to funeral directors. Here though, we have been more hands-on.
A tremendous amount of love and labor has gone into this process. Mark handcrafted a bier, Alline has sewn a shroud. The grave was dug by many, taking turns chipping through the stubborn Missouri clay, hoisting buckets, and dumping wheelbarrows. I felt honored to contribute to the digging. I’ve witnessed stories and pictures and songs being shared. I anticipate more singing to come. I know there are many, many more unseen acts of love and care as well.
In a favorite book of mine, From Here to Eternity, Caitlin Doughty explores death and burial practices around the world. As we move through this experience, I keep returning to one of the final passages of the book:
“Holding the space doesn’t mean swaddling the family immobile in their grief. It also means giving them meaningful tasks…these activities give the mourner a sense of purpose. A sense of purpose helps the mourner grieve. Grieving helps the mourner begin to heal.”
We have no shortage of meaningful tasks here in the village, that is certain. I’m reminded that caring for someone at the end of their life is not just about being present for their passing. It is also about participating in the process, honoring their wishes, supporting those who love them, and allowing ourselves to be held by the community in return. I feel deeply honored to contribute in small ways to this effort, despite the emotional weight it carries. As Doughty encourages us at the end of her book, “Do not be afraid. These are human acts, acts of bravery and love in the face of death and loss.”
Keith Jihan is the newest writer in our rotation of writers for this publication.