How The Caskateers Saved my Sanity

Dealing with grief was easier with this show in my toolbox.

Jay Duran
4 min readOct 23, 2020

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Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

Why is grief so absolutely weird? If I could sum it up in two words, they would be these: “You’re screwed!!!!”

I’m a researcher. So, my first line of defense was to research everything I could find on grief. Specifically, I searched how to navigate the fuckery that is losing a child. I have read books, articles, and blog posts. I didn’t stop there. I asked for advice from the unfortunate club that you never want to be a part of, — the mothers of deceased children. As I continued my research I went on to other mediums, like podcasts, shows, and movies.

I can honestly say that I was entranced with death. I am all for the macabre on the regular. But, this was overdrive even for me. My playlist consisted of the following: Life after Beth, Long Island Medium, and Six Feet Under to name a few. The most helpful show that I watched is a reality tv show about a funeral home in New Zealand called The Caskateers. It is the most beautiful, thoughtful, and compassionate show I have ever seen. They don’t know it, but that family helped me so much. To know how gentle, kind, and respectful they are to those that passed on is a heartwarming breath of fresh air.

I flew through an entire season in one weekend. I was shy three seconds til insanity -from leading me to grab an adult diaper for the cause. I seriously could not stop watching this show. Alas, I controlled my bowels and went to the restroom like a normal human.

As of this date, October 18th, 2020, there is less than two months before the 2nd year that my son has passed. I haven’t stopped thinking about him and what he would be doing right now. I often find myself pretending that he is away on vacation, away at school or, away in California pursuing his dream of photography and music. These days it is helpful to not believe that he is really gone. I’m not delusional. I understand my son is no longer on this earth. But, for a moment it helps to believe that he is.

I don’t believe that I am the only person with this feeling. My wife has shared the same notion with me. Sometimes, it is easier to tell yourself he is away somewhere safe and happy. In effect, he very well may be. But he is not of the living anymore.

My son suffered from traumatic brain injury, neurological disorders and mental illness. Considering this fact, I believe he is free of his mortal barriers. That, I can be certain of.

If I were to attempt to explain how I feel to another person, it would be lost in translation.

My brain has been foggy ever since my son left us. The whole first year he was gone I was on autopilot. I was numb and life was a chore. I cannot say with confidence that there has been much improvement. But, the effort and the will are there. That’s an improvement in itself. The whole first year I was concentrated on keeping my wife and adult children above water. I didn’t have time to save myself. I didn’t have a will to save myself. The only thing that kept me level was the fact that I knew I couldn’t just give up on my family. Therefore, I needed to be well to take care of them. I need to keep this roof above our heads and food on the table. Though, there were several months where that wasn’t always guaranteed. I was in financial ruin to the extent of foreclosure. I almost lost our home. The home that Gabe last lived in. I couldn’t bring myself to get back to work so I got really behind.

He was weeks away from moving out when my son was murdered. He was finally going to gain that independence he so desperately craved. At 19, he had his whole life ahead of him.

Don’t read this article and treat it as advice on how to cure your grief.

I’m not an expert. In fact, easing the symptoms of grief is not a one size fits all deal. I also had a counselor, friends, and family support. It has been a collective effort to keep me grounded. I still have my fall apart moments, uncontrollable crying, panic attacks, anxiety, and bouts of anger. But I take it one moment at a time and go from there. Please be gentle with yourself. It is okay to unravel from time to time.

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Jay Duran

An aspiring novelist with a knack for copy and passion for blogging. Visit this tech savvy, meme enthusiast's website at www.writenerd.com to learn more.