My formal death education began in 2005 while walking a dog in a Portland-area cemetery. I stumbled upon an open grave being prepared for burial, and was surprised to see an eight foot concrete box laying inside. I imagined that this vessel, which I learned later was called a grave liner, would eventually be home to a casket and embalmed body. It was the first time I realized I had no idea how or why we tended to our dead in these ways. I remember scanning the vast, headstone-laden hillside and imagining a city’s worth of concrete, metals, synthetics and oozing embalming fluids just below the well-watered and immaculate lawn. As someone who deeply cares for the health of the planet, and had always loved cemeteries, this shook me deeply.

At this time, I began working with my graduate program to integrate death and dying education into my final project. Much of my research focused on state and local regulations, choices and accessibility to options, and what I found along the way was a deep love of having conversations about our choices. The discussions and interviews I conducted with people about their final wishes not only moved me, but they helped me to realize that we were sorely missing them in our everyday lives. In most cases, those I interviewed were unaware of their options and had misunderstood what was safe and legally permissible, such as refusing embalming, keeping a deceased family member at home after death in most circumstances, conducting your own home funeral service or even backyard burial.

Shortly after I graduated, my research helped a local family hold a home funeral and backyard burial in Yamhill County, Oregon.

What I learned during that two year journey is that individuals, families and communities benefit from an awareness and understanding of End-of-Life and After Death Care pathways. I’ve repeatedly seen how the courage to turn toward a better understanding of our shared mortality opens up connections, emotional resilience, and shared experiences stretching beyond what we often expect.

In the years that followed, I looked for ways to weave death and dying into the earth-based education I did with youth and adults outside, usually in small, very practical ways. This most often looked like creating space for brave conversation when we found dead animals in the woods, took an animal’s life on the farm or while fishing, or discussing colonial genocide while practicing ancestral skills. These conversations were just part of life, but not central to it.

The challenges of a global pandemic shifted that focus, however, and it pushed the awareness of our society’s grief, death and End-of-Life awareness in huge ways. It was a challenging time, but I welcomed the cultural shift in awareness that emerged as a result. Covid shined light on our failings as a society to care for those in the margins and the many people who die alone each year, many unclaimed and in poverty. It also helped many people realize there were many things they could do in advance of their death, or the death of someone they love, that would ease the burden of decision-making or suffering. Having conversations about our wishes, gathering important paperwork, or understanding our End of Life options in advance can all help.

One thing is certain, we can’t predict the future or even be sure that our planning will be useful when we’re finally faced with death. We can, however, come to understand how we relate to death now, and allow this awareness to enhance our relationships in the present. Learning to ride the waves of discomfort that may accompany this growing awareness has the potential to strengthen our families and communities while we’re still alive, and better align ourselves with the life and death we’d like to experience.

- June Jacobson, 2026