As I picked up the phone, the soft, familiar voice on the other end said, “I need you to come over to my apartment this week. Can you come Tuesday afternoon at 3:00?” It was my dear friend, Shatzi Weisberger. Ninety years old at the time and less than five feet tall, Shatzi was still a force to be reckoned with. She was a former registered nurse, a fearless death educator, and my cohost of our Death Café in New York City for three years.
When Shatzi opened the door that Tuesday, she immediately started pointing out everything in her apartment that was to be given away and to whom. She had placed stickers everywhere with names of the proper recipients. “I thought of these two things for you,” she said, indicating a beautiful hall mirror and a painting of a young girl in a countryside meadow at sunset.
As we walked by a chest in the living room, she pointed to carefully folded clothes. “This is the outfit I’m going to be buried in,” she said with pride. She had planned every detail: the friends who would care for her, her home wake, the food, the music. She had also prepaid for a serene natural burial. The only uncertainty was when her farewell would occur, as she was still in impeccable health.
As she outlined her plans, there was not only a feeling of empowerment coming from my friend, but of complete confidence as well. I had never experienced anything like it before. Shatzi was always an inspiration for me in life, and it was clear she would be an inspiration for me in death as well.
The rebirth of death: How to see it differently
Since we can’t change the fact that death is a part of life, should we follow Shatzi’s example and change our perspective on it? What if the day we die was considered our second birthday?
Traditional ways of dealing with death are having a rebirth worldwide. People are experiencing empowerment and healing by making their own choices for ritual and ceremony. Many are going back to their roots with the readoption of home wakes and funerals. For millennia, people died at home and remained there for viewing and ceremony. The professionalization and commodification of the funeral industry only became widespread in the twentieth century, leading many to believe they have no choice but to hire funeral professionals. This is not the case.
The transformational power of a three-day wake
Brandon was a sixteen-year-old who was the most popular boy in his high school. He was known for being smart, talented, and universally kind to everyone, whether they were popular kids like him or the kids who usually felt invisible except for the care and attention they received from Brandon. Then, suddenly, he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage that took his life in a matter of minutes. His funeral was attended seemingly by his entire high school, but it was brief, leaving his friends to process their grief alone.
Then, there’s Jared — a handsome, beloved seventeen-year-old with an enviable head of curly brown hair and huge brown eyes. He was on the threshold of life when he had a motorcycle accident and died suddenly. Of course, his family and friends were just as devastated as Brandon’s, but their decision to bring Jared’s body home from the hospital for a home wake that lasted three days made all the difference. His story was told in a documentary film by Heidi Boucher and Ruby Sketchley called In the Parlor: The Final Good-Bye.
Initially, mourners were inconsolable, just as those were who attended Brandon’s funeral. But by the third day, something magical happened. They were singing, smiling, and celebrating Jared’s life. His mother described the love in their home as “euphoric.” Experiences like this can turn death into a true celebration of life.
The tradition of a three-day wake is deeply rooted in many cultures and religions: Irish wakes, Greek Orthodox Panikhida, and Thai Buddhist funerals all recognize the importance of collective grieving. These customs offer structured outlets for mourning, making it easier to move forward with fond memories instead of despair.
Even if a full three-day wake isn’t possible, gathering for an extended period, sharing stories, and creating space for grief can be profoundly healing. In Jewish tradition, sitting shiva originally lasted seven days, though modern adaptations vary in duration. The key is time spent together, honoring the deceased and supporting one another.
At wakes, some people include photo boards that chronicle the person’s life, home videos, audio recordings, or the deceased’s artwork. I know of one case where the family had a life-size standing replica made of their son, who died of AIDS in his twenties. At his memorial service, people took selfies with it, which was so in keeping with his sense of humor. I’m thinking of having a dancing flash mob at mine! There are many opportunities to bring celebration into wakes and funerals, regardless of their length.
Would you have a funeral at home?
Home funerals offer many advantages. They allow families to slow down, be fully present, and take in sacred moments of grief, remembrance, and connection. In contrast, funeral homes often rush families through a structured process. At home, there is no pressure to follow protocols dictated by an industry.
Environmental responsibility is another advantage. Home funerals avoid embalming and other toxic procedures that make the deceased look unnatural. Instead, the body is washed, dressed, and preserved using dry ice or Techni-Ice. Most US states allow families to take their deceased loved one home from the hospital, but it’s important to check local laws.
A home funeral is also significantly more affordable. The average cost of a traditional funeral in the United States is over $7,800, whereas a home funeral can cost less than $200, excluding burial or cremation fees.
Beyond financial and environmental benefits, home funerals are profoundly personal. Caring for a loved one in death is an act of love, offering empowerment and healing to families. Some families invite guests to decorate the casket or urn, a beautiful way for children to participate in a meaningful and comforting manner.
What is a living wake?
My friend Mary was in her thirties when she became terminally ill. She decided to have a “living wake,” where her family and friends gathered to celebrate her life and tell her how much she was loved. It was extraordinary.
Shatzi did this as well when she turned 92. She called it her “FUNeral.” Over 100 friends gathered in her community room, decorating a biodegradable coffin with messages of love. There was music, dancing, and heartfelt conversations about embracing death. Shatzi, dressed in white, radiated peace and wisdom, showing the beauty of facing mortality with joy.
A living wake or funeral allows a person to hear the words of love and appreciation they would otherwise miss. It provides closure for both the individual and their loved ones, ensuring nothing is left unsaid. It is an opportunity to take control of one’s final chapter and turn death into a celebration of life.
Redefining death as a celebration
Death is inevitable, but our approach to it is within our control. By reclaiming ancient traditions, personalizing rituals, and fostering collective grieving, we can transform death from something to be feared into an experience of love, connection, and even joy. Whether through a home wake, funeral, or living celebration, the power to redefine death lies in our hands.
Adapted from THE GOOD DEATH by Suzanne B. O’Brien, RN. Copyright © 2025 by Suzanne B. O’Brien, RN. Used with permission of Little, Brown Spark, an imprint of Little, Brown and Company. New York, NY. All rights reserved.
