Columbus Community Deathcare

07/17/2025

Now here’s a great resource! If you have additional questions, leave ‘em below. 

From end-of-life care to burials and beyond, we tackled your questions on the topic.

07/14/2025

This one hurts.

“Whenever I leave this world, whether it’s sixty years from now, I wouldn’t want anyone to say I lost some battle. I’ll be a winner that day.” – Andrea Gibson

Andrea Gibson was a winner today. On July 14th, at 4:16AM, Andrea Gibson died in their home surrounded by their wife, Meg, four ex-girlfriends, their mother and father, dozens of friends, and their three beloved dogs.

Poet Laureate of Colorado, world-touring spoken word artist, author of seven books, Calais Maine High School State Basketball Champion, and subject of the award-winning documentary, “Come See Me in the Good Light”, and so much more — Andrea Gibson accomplished much on their 49 years on this planet. Though Andrea desperately wished to have lived a longer life, they could not have possibly lived a fuller one.

Since learning they had cancer in 2021, Andrea has been a champion of finding beauty in unlikely places and gratitude in the hardest hours. Over the last four years, they danced with their diagnosis, and continually aimed their internal compass toward joy. One of the last things Andrea said on this plane was, “I fu***ng loved my life.”

Not long ago, Andrea wrote a poem titled “Love Letter From the Afterlife.” In it, they offered this line: “I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined.” Today, and all days forward, we hope you feel Andrea’s enormous spirit and immense presence beside you.

Meg and Heather, the authors of this post, have absolutely no idea how to encapsulate the magnitude and magnificence of a life like Andrea Gibson’s, so they intend to keep writing, to keep telling Andrea’s story, to keep Andrea alive in every way they can.

Andrea would want you to know that they got their wish. In the end, their heart was covered in stretch marks.

Andrea Gibson 8/13/75 - 7/14/25

07/08/2025

There are 12 states/jurisdictions in the US that legally support Medical Aid in Dying (MAiD). Ohio is not yet one of them. If you’d like to get involved in this movement, check out Ohio End of Life Options and Death with Dignity.

I was intensely sad that Grandpa Jack was dying, but I would never have selfishly asked for him to suffer longer. We were able to honor him.

05/07/2025

Three minutes on the process of dying.

In modern British society, death is out of sight and behind closed doors. Many of us lack direct exposure to the dying process - with all sorts of potential ...

02/25/2025

Courageous decision. Important option.

Sandra Demontigny, 45, pushed Quebec to become one of the few places in the world to allow people to choose a medically assisted death sometimes years in advance.

01/03/2025

I said goodbye to some stuff today. Stuff that meant so much on my wedding night and means nothing to me now. I’ve packed up and carried and moved and unpacked this stuff in 8 houses over the last 28 years; nostalgic for love and always hoping for its resurrection.

But it ends here; buried in the backyard of the rental house that saved me. A warm and safe home that gave my kids and I exactly what we needed for 13 months—a soft landing and a chance to think about who we are and what we want. This place enabled us to rely on our intuition, live with integrity and (eventually) move into action. We are forever grateful and ready for whatever is next.

Thank you Mary Oliver for this prayer: Starlings in Winter

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;
I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want
to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

11/23/2024

Great piece on how to celebrate those who have gone before us. You could also include elements of air, fire, earth, and water: diffuser, candle, plant/stone, vase or glass of wine!

From a photo or a memento on a dresser to something more elaborate, designating a special place to remember a loved one can be healing

11/12/2024

Whether it’s the first year without your person or the tenth, an empty seat at the holiday table is tough. Some folks find it helps to give their grief a place to go. Here are some suggestions.

1. Take a little time to think about your relationship to the holidays—maybe celebrating will cheer you up or maybe you’d prefer to pretend they aren’t happening. Either way is okay.

2. Decide how much you want to reveal to other people. Privacy is an option and so is sharing deeply. Think about how you’ll communicate to others when invited to talk/visit so you’ll be confident in your response.

3. Set boundaries and honor them. If you don’t want to talk about your feelings be prepared to say so or change the subject.

4. If the holidays are difficult for reasons related to loss, consider ways to feel closer to the people you miss. Light a candle for your person. It can be as prominent or inconspicuous as you like. Let the light be a channel for your feelings. Set up a decorative table or mantle in their honor and a jar or vase for them. When you think about them, write down your thought or wish and drop it in the jar. Cook their favorite food and share the recipe with others. Tell your friends or children stories about the people you are missing.

5. Ignore social media. As you know, these curated portrayals of other people’s holidays aren’t comforting (nor are they accurate).

6. Ask around to see who else is feeling down about the season. Having people to connect with, or maybe even spend time with, can make a difference.

7. If people offer to help, take them up on it! And if no one offers, consider asking: “Can you pick up some things for me at the grocery this week?” “Would you mind checking in on me? I’ve been feeling down.” “Wanna run errands with me next week? I could use the company.”

8. Get outside whenever you can. Take a brisk, cold walk at night and breath in the winter air. If walking is too much, wrap yourself in a big blanket and sit on your front step. Take in the enormity of the sky.

9. If you have the energy, tidy up your space and decorate a bit. Bring the outside in by clipping a tree branch or gathering some pine cones. Make your space feel as comfy and bright as possible.

10. And of course, be kind to yourself. You're only a human and it won't hurt so much forever.

Illustration: Elin Manon

04/27/2024

My marriage ended 14 months ago. One could argue it actually ended the day my husband decided there was something better for him out there or the date of our pending divorce. But for me it ended that Monday in March as we stood brushing our teeth in the bathroom that we designed and built from scratch, in the house that we no longer own.

Losing my husband feels like a death. This may offend people whose partners have died. I’m sorry. I’m also the gal who believes our pets are like children—this, too, will irritate some folks.

For me—
Loss is loss and
Love is love.

We often talk about death as a finality—the end of life. But I’ve come to think of death as part of life—another milestone on the continuum. And so it’s within that framework that I’m trying to understand the ghost of my 26 year marriage; not entirely gone but no longer with me.

All of this has me thinking about beginnings and endings. Beginnings come easy for me. I love the imagination phase; the big sky, daydream, conceptual stuff. But I’m not great with goodbyes. I’m a lingerer, a hanger-oner. And so I continue to grieve the loss of my partner and the death of my marriage for as long as it takes. It’s the only way I know to honor love.

The artists/lovers in this photograph created something that sparks hope in me. In digging their graves, they included a tiny tunnel through which they can still hold each other. A salute to love and death as part of the continuum. For these two, there is no “death do us part.”

I haven’t been active on this account for a long time. I also haven’t been active in the deathcare community. I’m no longer accepting clients and I’m limiting my death education classes. I’m burnt out. I don’t know if or when that will change. I’m doing my best to honor this transition and remind myself that it’s temporary. I’m trying to not get tangled in the dark and instead look to the light.

If you’re also struggling, try to remember that grief serves a purpose. I’m not suggesting there’s a silver lining to grief or that it makes us stronger or that we’re only given what we can handle or any of that crap. But most transitions aren’t seamless and the things we lose usually come back to us in another form.