Another day at the office: gratitude for the unspoken. Here I am again, pointing out the existence of what is left unsaid. What is swept aside, or tucked under, or (especially) turned away from. Some times our very thoughts are untouchable. The unspoken has come up before as an element of my work with people and ceremony, and as an idea in my writing. Sometimes the unspoken is formless, some times it carries so much substance that it presses hard on our senses. I have come to
In my work as an End-of-life Navigator and Funeral Celebrant I hear the early stories families tell when someone has died. Sometimes folks have had time to prepare themselves for loss but more often, even if there has been time, they are in shock because of sudden release from the demands of care-taking, or unmoored by an untimely demise. These stories are confided in their first telling, before they are codified into a family's lore, before the edited versions are released.