Nothing in life is certain except death and taxes, so goes the saying. We grumble through taxes year after year, because we don’t want to be on the naughty list of the IRS. Death and dying, on the other hand, has no agency of its own. Without its nudging, we find ourselves avoiding all contact at all costs. What if we flip the script? Instead of viewing end-of-life planning as a morbid task, we approach it as a way to honor our lives and beliefs, and to leave behind a legacy for our loved ones?
I have been passionate about conscious death and dying for many years (you can read about my origin story here). Through taking classes, learning from other end-of-life professionals, and volunteering with hospice, I have come to appreciate the complexity of end-of-life planning, even with training. So, I decided to create my own end-of-life plan for two purposes: one, I can finally get it done, and two, I can bring others along the journey to demystify end-of-life planning. By traveling together, I hope to show everyone that this process doesn’t have to be morbid. Instead, it can be an act of love and compassion for ourselves and our loved ones, and—dare I say—sprinkled with fun!
Due to the volume of topics and details involved, I will deliver my plan as a four-part series, covering practical, emotional, and spiritual aspects. In my first installment, I will discuss the creation of a comfortable environment for your final days. Then I will dive into vigil planning, after-death care, and the less-fun-but-really-critical documents that make sure our final wishes are honored.
Part I: Create a Comfortable Environment
Would you rather spend your life’s final chapter in a sterile hospital room or “the world’s most inviting blanket fort?” For me, it is that blanket fort, all day, every day! Even when we don’t get a choice on location, with enough creativity and planning, we can transform the blandest room into a cozy hangout.
Picking The Room
I don’t want my husband to think about my death every time he walks into our bedroom—he has good genes and will probably live to 120. So I have chosen the main floor guest bedroom as my “goodbye” room. It has good lighting from two windows that face the sidewalk, perfect for keeping tabs on the neighborhood buzz, and soaking in the joy of watching toddlers and puppies on their way to the nearby park and swimming pool.
Set Up The Scene
Don’t be shy with the details now! Be as specific as you can. Here’s what I want for myself:
Furniture arrangement: I want the bed to face the windows. I would also like the curtains to be open from sunrise to sundown, so I can maximize my “interactions” with the outside world. However, I would like the curtain to be lowered at sunset to avoid blinding glare—squinting while dying is very … undignified.
Seating for visitors: I’d like no more than two chairs by my bed for visitors. I prefer intimate chats over group conferences. If I’m that popular while dying, visitors are welcome to book appointments.
Modern Technology: I would like a 50”-55” TV to watch my curated shows and family photos/videos. I would also like a voice-controlled speaker, quality should be at least on par with a Sonos speaker, that will reliably play my curated playlist on command. Finally, I would like to have an intercom system so I don’t have to holler at my caregivers for some company.
Ambiance: I would also like some green plants and colorful flowers in my room. I don’t mind if they are fake, in fact I prefer them because they are low-maintenance and I feel no guilt towards dying flowers. Please litter the room with warm colored items – blankets, pillows, chairs, rug, flowers, lamps, curtains, etc. Give me my own Lothlórien (LotR), and I will call it Amberville.
Comfort: I would like the room to be a perpetual 74 degrees Fahrenheit as long as the solar panels don’t fail us. In terms of lighting, I prefer – you guessed it – warm lights, 3000-3700 Kelvin to be specific (because yes, I am picky). I prefer bedside lamps over chandeliers. So please use chandeliers sparingly and only when necessary. Let’s keep the drama low.
Scent: I would like the room to be lightly scented with Sandalwood, Myrrh, or Jasmine, ideally through incense, but organic air spray is acceptable.
Welcome Sign
I would like the following message to be posted on the door to my room. A little something to set the mood for the incoming conversation. I have little time left, so please make the chat enjoyable for me (you call it sassy; I call it spirited):
“Come to say hello, come to say goodbye, come to tell me about your life, come to crack some jokes, or come to simply sit with me. Whatever you do, please do not cry to my face; we have a powder room for that. Please treat me as the person you have always known. Know that I have lived a full life, so I’m ready, joyful and excited even for the journey beyond!”
Buddhist Rituals
I prefer not to label myself as a Spiritualist or Buddhist, because our essence transcends all of them. That said, I would like my room to be set up according to the Buddhist traditions:
Music: I will make two playlists on Spotify – “Funky Spiritual Music” for fun, and “Buddhist Mantras” for peace. In my earlier days of the active dying phase, I would play the “Buddhist Mantras” once in the morning, once at noon and once at night (right before bedtime), and play “Funky Spiritual Music” the rest of the day. In my last 3-5 days, I would only play the “Buddhist Mantras” continuously on low volume.
Buddhist Altar: I would like to set up a Buddhist Altar. On it, I would like to place statues or paintings of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas that I have gathered, stupa, incense, scriptures (Buddhist books), flowers, fresh fruit and food (to be refreshed daily).
Prayers: understanding that I am (and likely will be) the only one practicing Buddhism in the family, I will record the prayers beforehand. When I can no longer perform the prayers myself or have become unconscious, I’d like the recorded prayers to be played on low and gentle volume continuously (all mantra music can stop now).
The Buddhist rituals will continue on after dying, but I will save that for a later installment.
Conclusion
The end-of-life plan is a living and breathing document (yes, I see the irony). As our life experiences evolve, so should our documents. To me, this is an act of love—for myself and my family. Not only does it fulfill my final wishes, but also it creates an opportunity for my loved ones to express their love and care.
As you create your own plan, be as specific and quirky as you want. At the very least, your loved ones might be momentarily relieved from intense grief as they hunt for the lamp with just the right Kelvins or embark on a shopping spree to create your Amberville. More importantly, knowing that they have brought me comfort, eased my suffering, and helped me transition with peace, it will hopefully bring the same qualities right back to their lives. I sincerely hope this plan serves as a solid foundation for my loved ones to accept, heal and grow. One day, I hope they will learn to embrace their own impermanence with grace and even a little excitement (I can dream).
I hope this first installment inspires you to begin your own journey towards a thoughtful, compassionate, loving and FUN end-of-life plan. For further resources, please visit Create a Comfortable Environment, and the End of Life Planning page to access a worksheet (click on the “End Of LIfe Checklist” button and download the “Create a Comfortable Environment” PDF). The worksheet is packed with ALL the details you will ever need. If you think I’m picky, just wait until you meet the worksheet. Until next time.
