{"product_id":"in-lieu-of-flowers-isbn-9780375714481","title":"In Lieu of Flowers","description":"\u003cb\u003eA thought-provoking exploration of life's most profound transition • With candor and refreshing perspective, Nancy Cobb infuses the oft-avoided subject of death with light, presenting it as a natural process to be honored rather than feared. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"This meditation on grieving is personal and persuasive — sustenance for the mind and the soul.\" —Wally Lamb, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“An elegant book ... that lets readers know they aren’t alone.”\u003ci\u003e—The Wall Street Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003e“Grieving is as natural as breathing, for if we have lived and loved, surely we will grieve. . . .”\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eNancy Cobb meets death in the most vital of places—in the lives of everyday people—and in doing so has found a way to make the darkest of subjects more approachable, and the deaths of those she has loved—and death itself—a subject to explore rather than to avoid. Cobb's personal experiences become a point of departure for what amounts to a deeper conversation about loss. She shares moments of her own mourning and draws others into the conversation as well: among them, a bank teller who still dreams of her deceased grandmother, two small children who bury a wild bird in its final nest beneath a maple tree, and a hospice nurse who acts as an end-of-life midwife. Cobb invites us to explore death through the shared humanity of everyday people, allowing their voices to demystify the inevitable while offering solace.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWhether you are mourning a loved one, caring for someone at the end of life, or seeking wisdom on this universal experience, \u003ci\u003eIn Lieu of Flowers\u003c\/i\u003e is a deeply comforting companion. Its gentle candor and hard-won insights will inspire you to embrace grief fully while finding light in life's final transition.“An elegant book ... that lets readers know they aren’t alone.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Mesmerizing. Cobb is down to earth, funny, disturbingly direct.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDetroit Free   Press\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “An eloquent book. Cobb’s harrowing insistence that death be confronted without   the veil of denial is made possible, and even more starkly compelling, by the grace   and wit of her writing.” \u003cbr\u003e—Kay Redfield Jamison, author of \u003ci\u003eAn Unquiet Mind \u003c\/i\u003eNANCY COBB grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She divides her time between Connecticut   and New York City.\u003cb\u003eChapter Eleven: Children\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCuriosity underscores every stage of life. Without it we would be a pretty dull bunch. Yet when it comes to death and grief, even the most curious among us clam up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCarl Jung believed that \"the negation of life's fulfillment is synonymous with the refusal to accept its ending. Not wanting to die,\" he wrote, \"is identical with not wanting to live.\" In \u003ci\u003eThe Healing Heart,\u003c\/i\u003e Norman Cousins concludes that \"death is not the enemy; living in constant fear of it is.\" How can the rest of us become more accepting of their wise conclusions?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePerhaps, quite simply, by listening to our children.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRecently, I met a woman whose husband had died several years ago, just days after his fortieth birthday. Betsy said she and her husband had been \"soul mates\" from the moment they met until his death ten years later. They could communicate almost, she said, \"without talking.\" And so it did not seem at all strange for her, as he lay dying of a brain tumor in the bedroom of their home, to curl up beside him \"in spoon position,\" as was their habit, and ask him to give her a sign.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You mean after I am dead?\" he asked, his voice, a whisper.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes,\" she said, \"so I know that you're safe.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But what if I can't? What if I'm not able to?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You'll be able to,\" she said. \"I just have to believe you will.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe died a week later. After his body had been taken away, Betsy's two-year-old son came into their bedroom with her father, who was quite close to the little boy. This was a child who, Betsy said, \"was an observer, a child who, save a word here and there, barely talked at all.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly, Betsy remembered, her son \"stretched his arms up toward the section of the ceiling over the bed, and said, 'Daddy, Daddy, hold me, hold me.' It was incredible. He had never, ever put words together like that before or spoken so clearly. My father, a no-nonsense surgeon, was speechless. It was obvious to both of us that my husband was present in some form and my son could see him, even if we couldn't.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBetsy described waking up in the middle of the night two weeks later and feeling \"absolutely\" that her husband was there, first as a \"kind of energy\" surging through the the room, and then in a calmer form, tucked in beside her in the very configuration they had always slept in.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He was there by my side for -- I'm not sure how long, really -- but I experienced an amazing sense of peace and well-being. It was the sign I had hoped for.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBetsy has told very few people about these experiences; like the bank teller, she fears they might think she is crazy, a refrain that I have heard too many times to count. Yet I believe if we grant ourselves a grace period to observe and to listen, we might learn a few things, one being that at our most basic, we too are sensate creatures.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSmall children remind us of this every day. They help us to strip away the pretense, to see and respond in a more open way, as Betsy's son did, without a smidgen of self-consciousness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElisabeth Kübler-Ross has said that dying children often express their feelings more naturally than adults. Terminally ill children often speak of their dreams and visions, according to pediatric oncologist Diane Komp, the author of \u003ci\u003eA Child Shall Lead Them\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eA Window to Heaven\u003c\/i\u003e. She writes, \"For adults, the so called 'near-death experience' is often spiritually revolutionary, a type of conversion experience that puts them on a new road. For children, however, the experience is more spiritually evolutionary, progress on an already familiar pathway.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy friend Cathy, a teacher and a painter, is one of those rare grown-ups who both understands and speaks the language of children. Last year when her husband, George, who had just turned seventy, died suddenly, their large Greek family, along with their extended family of friends and neighbors, rallied around.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs people waited in a long line that stretched out of the funeral home into the December night, Cathy took time to greet every person, frequently breaking into tears as she listened to their memories of George. After watching this from a corner of the room, Cathy's six-year-old granddaughter, Alexandra, approached her tentatively.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yaya,\" she asked, \"why do you cry every time a new person talks to you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Because I am sad about Papou,\" Cathy said, \"but when I look into your face, it makes me happy again.\" After that, for the rest of the evening, when Cathy began to cry, her granddaughter would sidle up, slip one finger into her Yaya's hand and present a beaming countenance front and center.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGeorge and Cathy -- Papou and Yaya to their grandchildren -- had known each other since childhood. George, who had been a devout member of the Greek Orthodox faith until the day he died, had told Cathy he wanted a traditional service, one that would require, among other things, an open casket. Knowing that this might frighten her grandchildren, Cathy walked them through the details the morning of George's funeral. Little Georgie, her four-year-old grandson, listened soberly as Cathy explained that they would be seeing Papou the next day but that even though his body was there, Papou had died and had gone to heaven with the angels.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSitting cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with his shoelaces, Georgie tried to make sense of what his Yaya had just told him. Suddenly he brightened, looked up at Cathy, and said, \"Oh, I get it, Yaya . . . you mean Papou is there . . . he's just not in.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCathy remembers an incident that occurred two months before George's death that she thinks of now as the children's \"preparation.\" On a warm autumn day she and Alexandra and Georgie, who visited their grandparents at least twice a week, were painting self-portraits at the kitchen table when a wren crashed into the plate-glass door behind them and fell to the ground with a broken neck. The children were so distraught that Cathy suggested they create a special ritual and bury the little bird in the backyard. Georgie and Alex went off to retrieve a shoe box from the back of their Yaya's closet and then proceeded to paint it with the bright acrylic colors they had been using. After setting the newly painted box and lid to dry in the sun on the patio, the children searched for \"favorite birdie things.\" They collected enough grass and acorns and yellow mums to feather the deceased's final nesting place. After digging a hole with Papou's shovel, each child gave a blessing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I want to hug you and I'll always miss you, birdie,\" said Georgie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Birdie, I wish you could stay alive. We made you a nice home while you are dead. I hope you love it,\" said Alex.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen they solemnly placed the box in the ground and began to cover it with handfuls of earth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Wait a minute!\" cried Alexandra, \"what about the birdie's parents? They will be looking for him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Why don't you write them a letter and tell them what happened,\" Cathy suggested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter much deliberation, Georgie and Alexandra came up with the following message and tacked it to the maple tree that shaded the small grave with its spindly twig cross:Your birdie is dead, but we\u003cbr\u003eput it in a nice box and buried it.\u003cbr\u003eDon't worry. He's in heaven\u003cbr\u003ewith our dogs, Nikki and Kato.\u003cbr\u003eLove, Alex and Georgie\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNothing more to add here save the words of Henri Frederic Amiel:Blessed be childhood, which brings down something \u003cbr\u003eof heaven into the midst of our rough earthliness.","brand":"Pantheon","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303866781925,"sku":"NP9780375714481","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780375714481.jpg?v=1767729921","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/in-lieu-of-flowers-isbn-9780375714481","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}