Showing Up

Showing Up

What does it mean to truly show up when someone you love has died? Not to observe from a distance, not to hand everything off to strangers — but to stay close, use your hands, and do something rather than have something done. In this episode, three stories. A man who handed a death doula a list of names and died four days later, trusting that his people would figure it out. A family who drove through the Montana night with their father, racing a clock, doing the last thing they could do for him. And two daughters who discovered, somewhere around midnight, that they were braver than they knew. Underneath, they are the same story. About presence over passivity. About love made tangible. This episode opens with Alfred Lord Tennyson's The Lady of Shalott. The stanzas used: It was the closing of the day: She loos'd the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. The paintings referenced are John William Waterhouse's The Lady of Shalott — 1888, 1894, and 1915. Worth looking up. If today's themes feel familiar, find Extreme Embalming and Kelly in the Death Becomes Her archive. You don't need a roadmap. You just need to show up. Talking about death won't kill you. I promise.

The Paris Morgue

For decades, the Paris Morgue was one of the city’s most popular attractions. Thousands of people lined up each day to look at the dead bodies pulled from the Seine, displayed on marble slabs, their stories unknown. This wasn’t an anomaly. It was part of a culture built on observation. From the wandering flâneur to the spectacle of cabarets, from the underground atmosphere of the catacombs to the public display of death, Paris was a city that taught its people how to look. In this episode, we explore: * The Paris Morgue as public theatre * The culture of spectacle in Belle Époque Paris * The strange intimacy of anonymous death * And why, even today, we’re often more comfortable looking at strangers than at our own dead Because while we may no longer line up outside a morgue, our fascination with death hasn’t disappeared. It’s just changed shape. And when death enters our own lives, many of us turn away.

A Place to Put Grief: Why We Gather When Someone Dies

What happens when grief has nowhere to go? In this episode, we explore why gathering matters after a death--whether that gathering is a formal funeral, an intimate dinner, or something we create ourselves. From the spectacle of the Duke of Wellington’s funeral and Charles Dickens’ sharp critique, to the overwhelming public mourning of Rudolph Valentino, we look at what happens when ritual overwhelms, and when it disappears altogether. This is a conversation about authenticity, gracious honesty, and the deep human need to acknowledge loss. Because funerals aren’t about perfection. They’re about making space. About giving grief a place to land. www.leavingwellmt.com [http://www.leavingwellmt.com] Instagram: leaving.well.death.doula TikTok: Death Doula LiElla

When the End Is Known: How Impermanence Changes the Way We Live

www.leavingwellmt.com [http://www.leavingwellmt.com] Instagram: leaving.well.death.doula Tiktok: Death Doula LiElla In this episode of Death Becomes Her, LiElla explores how human behavior changes when time becomes visible, through two unexpected cultural phenomena, Unus Annus and Red Dead Redemption 2.

The Capuchin Catacombs, Palermo, Sicily

Beneath the streets of Palermo lies a haunting yet deeply human story—the Capuchin Catacombs, where the dead remain eerily present. In this episode, we step into the dim corridors lined with mummified monks, aristocrats, and children, exploring the motivations behind their unusual burials. What drove people to preserve their bodies in such a dramatic fashion? How did visitors of the past experience this macabre yet sacred space? And what does it reveal about our own desire to be remembered? Join me as we unravel history, confront mortality, and uncover the echoes of those who came before us.