11/16/2025
I’m Kale with Resting Waters. We experience so many losses in our lifetimes. Moving away, drifting apart, breaking up, or living on after the death of a loved one. After they are gone, we still feel their light even on those days when all we see are the shadows cast by the glow.
I had witnessed death many times before saying goodbye to my rat, Samson. I had a range of pets throughout my childhood, and I knew how short lived rats were. He was the first pet who was solely bonded to me, though. To everyone else, he was an ornery, unpleasant beast with a propensity for biting fingers, but we had that special bond.
I found him when he died. It was his time, and I knew that. Samson made that part easy for me. It was the middle of the night, I had no plan, but I carried him out to the woods near my childhood home. I dug him a grave under the moonlight and laid him to rest. I sent him off with a bit of cracker. It was a solitary affair, but he was never one for other people or animals. Just me.
Caring for Samson this way was the first time I had ever been able to face death so peacefully. Growing up with a mom that worked in a hospital and having two siblings with chronic medical conditions, the fragility of life was a constant specter. Our pets teach us so many lessons, and Samson taught me that death is not always scary. It can be a gift. Memorializing him with an impromptu funeral helped foster my interest in ritual, ceremony, and the myriad ways that humans grieve and honor our dead. I may not have been led to a career in deathcare without that little guy. I have let other animals into my heart since, and I’ve had my share of goodbyes, but he’s been a favourite for a long time. Death & Music
Town Hall // 1119 8th Ave, Seattle, WA
Nov 16th 6 PM
