04/02/2026
‘27 residency apps open 6/21
~reshare
If a single word could sum up my last week at Asphodel, it would be... Comfort. We had a visitor, so full of “thank you”s. A human with few words was a spirit with loud gestures.
After being mostly alone in the home for 2 weeks, the echoes of people being around were comforting. The crackling fire and the shuffling of wood. The wind scratching the window as it brought in a new season. The deep conversations of the night shift. And every morning, drifting away to the sound of birds chirping, Ella Fitzgerald, and the rumbling of sleep growing deeper in the room below me. Listening to stories while making knots at the kitchen table. And the sound of fresh leaves waking up as I ate lunch in the garden. The “good morning”s, the “good night”s, the whispers between sweet syrups and comfort meds. Is it possible that somehow, even the lace sounded louder?
During this week, our neighbor cat came more often and stayed longer. The raccoons had a dinner date on our porch. Even our white-feathered crow visited multiple times a day.
Was the house calling in everyone? All the support? All the love? All the comfort?
And then, one night, the sound of sleeping stopped. Ella kept singing, and the house danced. I heard the soft unrolling of canvas, clipping of tulips, and the crumbling of dried flowers. The familiar sounds of shrouding. Finally... the only words left, “thank you.”
The next day, there were conversations. There was wind and crackling embers. The pitter patter of squirrels on the roof and birds waking us for breakfast. Another day passed, and there was music and art and laughter. And now, stories with a new name imprinted in this home and all who witnessed.
I spend a lot of time with people who’ve already died. But I’ve never cared for someone who was actively dying. How does that look? I thought I could somehow prepare for it, and in the end all there was to do was come completely present. In so many ways, this time felt Familiar. Human. Warm. Natural. Like we’ve been doing this forever. Community care, community deathcare feels like Comfort.
Thank you, , for your trust and for the comfort you share.
