If you have come here tonight on Rosh Hashanah and feel that there is nothing to examine, no wound in your life to heal, no relationship to repair—then I hope you will listen especially closely to the shofar.

Death is a regular part of my job, which makes small talk weird for me at parties.

In this heartbreak what we carry forth is our humanity in newly revealed form—our hearts tender and delicate.

Miles away in a different life...

May you be tender and gentle with yourself

My vet said, “She's telling you thank you for letting her go.”

Loss binds us together undeniably.

Grief is welcome, a sacred part of the mourning.

There was an audible gasp when they heard he* was gone A whoosh of air that sounded exactly like the bottom falling out of his mother’s** world the winds of mortality brushing his father’s** face the last breath of a kind soul All the years of struggle have settled into silence: Unsought,...

Acknowledging that our dream was not happening didn't end the grief, but it did offer closure.

May we know that the infinite web of life and love holds us all and holds all the stories.

The words we cast to fill the silence left by one we loved never are enough.

Breathe in for caregivers of all kinds who give of themselves to make other people’s lives better, more whole.

Memorial Day is not to be celebrated. It is to be observed, scrutinized, and witnessed on behalf of the true witnesses of our human failure to love our neighbor as ourselves.

It can be a lonely time for those of us whose arms are empty.

Can I do it again? Do I even dare? Do I have the strength? Because the cradle might be empty—again.

I am afraid and exhausted from the constant fear. I don’t know who to trust for information about the virus.

Impermanence, mortality, ashes, dust: this is the truth of being human.

We gather because we need community to do all of this holy work.

When we feel overwhelmed, we gather to find a path, to find new ways forward.

Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love, we come today carrying our grief, our memories, and our love. We gather around screens and devices, reaching out with our minds and hearts to join in this most ancient of human customs: honoring one whom we loved who has died....

Minister: At this time, we would like to introduce a special ritual. The holidays can be an especially poignant time of year. Alongside the joy in these present moments, we may recall fond memories of past celebrations with our loved ones....

The impact of the COVID-19 pandemic is real for all of us, whether we are touched by it directly or indirectly. Some of us know people who have the virus, and its impact is getting closer as we learn of second cousins and friends of friends who have died of COVID-19....

Before I birthed my baby, he was a possibility, a kick against my insides. With that first cry, first breath, he became a person in the world.

As my body begins to loose its hold On this life, this earth, this entirety, May I lay my past to rest And face the unknowable With courage and curiosity. May those to whom I am connected gather. May they recall me as I am and have been....

This ritual begins by lighting a candle from the chalice, and placing it in position. A list of supplies is at the end of this resource. One: Fire. Source of warmth and life for our ancestors; and for humans still today....

The crisis was an opportunity to learn to be fully me and love it, inner turmoil and all. I learned that strength comes from authenticity, never from perfection.

Sometimes grief sends notice ahead of time; sometimes, it shows up as an unwelcome, uninvited guest.

Knit six purl six sets of two rows four rows six rows up to twelve, patterns, repeating, steady, soothingly same. This is not what life is like. Life is like picking up a tousled hunk of yarn pulled out of the basket by an impatient child looking for a string too many times. You find an end. You...

This was written as a blessing for pouring out the Water Communion waters onto a memorial garden. Like water that swells rivers and fills the ocean, the memories of those we have loved rush through us. Sometimes they are quiet, almost as if we have forgotten—and then suddenly, they flood our...

"Grief no more needs a solution than love needs a solution. We cannot 'triumph' over death, or loss, or grief. They are immovable elements of being alive. If we continue to come at them as though they are problems to be solved, we'll never get solace or comfort in our deepest pain."...

[S]piritual and meditative practices are not meant to erase pain. That's a symptom of our pain-avoidant culture, and not an accurate portrayal of the practices themselves. It's a misuse of so many beautiful teachings to force them into roles they were never meant to play....

And so I bury my cauldron today I fill it full of salt and place it in the warm earth. Cradle it Persephone! Hold and rock and heal this womb. Take my woes and transform them. I was supposed to be this perfect gateway, and hold the balance of life and death. Well I held life, for a brief moment.

This has been published with "they/their" pronouns; please use the most fitting pronoun in your setting. Claimed by death, we remember [Name]'s life Blessings for a life well lived Blessings for their peaceful departure Blessings for their shared friendships Blessings for their humor and wisdom...

We are broken, O God. We are broken. We gather in vigil again to mourn the death of school children and school teachers. Death and violence are the reasons that draw us together in sorrow, in anger, in anxious grief and loss....

In my small-town congregation, our beloved dead seem to linger with us for a little while.

Set up for this ritual: It's especially meaningful to have a congregant bake bread for communion. (If that’s not possible, store bought bread will do.) Cut the bread into cubes and place in baskets lined with napkins. Have a basket of gluten-free crackers available as well. To hold the juice, one...

We all take part in this ancient play. At some time. There is no other way. At some time… Thieves, guilty of poor choices caught red-handed in our human reality. One points at the other and says, “You: save me.” The other bows his head. “I accept responsibility. The mistakes I’ve made are...

Spirit of Love, hold us in your embrace. Offer comfort to [NAME] and all who love [her/him/them] as [she/he/they] move[s] through [her/his/their] final days. Help us look upon What Has Been with compassion and remind us that every minute of life is one more than we’ve been promised. Spirit of...

Spirit of life and love, God of memory, mourning and history, Bring before us the truths of serving in war Bring before us— In compassion and in gratitude— Those who faced violence so we may know peace We remember these sacrifices through monuments We remember these names, carved into stone...

We come this day, called by war By the suffering we inflict and endure When minds across borders fail to reason and compromise. We come this day, called by loss, The deaths of those who serve in our name, Those whose lives end before their natural course In service to a cause greater than their own.

How many more Sundays will the preacher in black robes and the solemn shuffle of papers Read the names of those whose light was extinguished for our right to bear arms? How many more Sundays will we try to believe that our hopes for justice are worth more than the lobbyists’ tailored suits and...

Holy One, on this day of remembrance we say aloud their names again: the names of those who died this year. Died — the word is jarring. So jarring that we hardly use the word, substituting euphemisms that are a bit more vague. Sometimes people say “lost” when what they mean is dead: “We lost...

As the news cycle brings us images of terror and heartbreak once again, We grieve together As each of us faces into this new level of horror, We grieve together As we remember other moments of pain, fear, and loss, We grieve together Yearning for an end to violence and suffering, We grieve togeth...

This Lamentation is for two voices: one white, and one person of color/indigenous (POCI). Both voices invite people to repeat a refrain several times: white voices say, “So much has been lost,” and voices of color say, “Beloved, you must not be defensive when you hear our hurt.” The latter,...

On this hallowed day, We remember. We remember those who are no longer present with us here, but who remain forever present in our hearts and who live on in our memories. We embrace....

Remembering is the art of holding a memory and sharing it; it’s drawing upon that memory so it can help us to grow into people who live lives of meaning and service. As a practice, remembering connects us deeply to each other and to the love that sustains us.

If we are lucky, we will all get a chance during our life to know someone who becomes for us an exemplar of living. And if we are really lucky, we will recognize how they ended up passing on some of their goodness to us. If we are lucky. But one thing is certain. No one – not one of us –...

Our grief is a holy thing. It is that proof that another life touched ours in a profound way. It is the mark of love, the mark of connection, and the mark of a life well lived. We will mourn, we will cry, we will miss (Name)....

Open your hearts, my friends, And let yourself feel the reality of absence. Open your hearts, and acknowledge That we gather in the presence of death. Open your hearts. Make room For the healing balm of connection, the release of forgiveness. No matter what pain dwells within your spirit, Or how...