This year I’m not going to write about Mother’s Day, but the next best thing, death.

I’ve just came across the work of photo-journalist Alain Schroeder in a series called Living for Death, and the story blew my mind. I want to share it and hear your thoughts.

In Toraja,Indonesia, the rituals associated with death are complex, require extensive planning and are expensive. Therefore, when a person dies, it can take weeks, months even years for the family to organize the funeral. During this time, the deceased is considered to be “sick” and kept at home. Relatives continue to interact with them offering gifts of cigarettes and betel leaves, drinking coffee, having meals by their side and conversing with them. While, it remains a sad time, the transition from life to death is a slow and peaceful process strengthening family bonds. Depending on the family, the body may be kept uncovered, bundled in layers of cloth or in a coffin.

The funeral ceremony, Rambu Solo, lasts 3 to 7 or more days according to the social status of the family and includes, traditional dances and processions for receiving guests, buffalo and coq fighting, animal sacrifice and large feasts. In the region of Pangala, the Ma’ Nene, or cleaning of the corpses, ceremony takes place in August after the rice harvest. Coffins are removed from their burial sites and opened. The mummies are cleaned, dried in the sun and given a change of clothes. Expressions of sadness are mixed with the overall happy atmosphere surrounding these moments of bonding with loved ones and honoring ancestors.

I find this culture’s attitude toward death immensely moving, and wonderful. The first person I discussed this with one person who was mildly disgusted, and observed that it seemed very primitive. Another person was delighted.

Maybe primitive isn’t so bad. The First World has divorced itself from most primitive customs, starting with childbirth.

I remember in every detail the birth of my first child, and reaching out for him. It was totally without thought, just a primitive reflex. But instead of handing him over, the nurses took him and wheeled me alone to the recovery area. I still feel cheated out of those first moments of motherhood! Now, many of us believe that children should be born at home, and that’s a great step backwards, toward the primitive.

I wonder if our culture is capable of a step backwards in its attitude toward death. We are so squeamish about it that The Neptune Society is making a fortune off of our rush to be rid of our dead. Just hurry up and throw their ashes into the sea so we can begin our Journey of Grief, or of Fighting Over The Will.

Everyone seems to like celebrating Dia de los Muertos, with it’s Goth costumes and other hipster friendly activities. But the Toraja take it to another level. Maybe somewhere between their culture and ours there’s a way to accept and embrace death as part of a natural cycle if not a voyage to the other side.

In Mexico, it’s not uncommon to surround your dead loved one with ice until all family members have had a chance to visit and say goodby. In the deaths I’ve experienced, there’s a haste to get the body out of the house. Because death has suddenly made the loved one a piece of refuse? People probably had more respect during the Plague than they do now in the US.

Looking at Schroeder’s photos, I noticed in one that far from looking primitive, a mourner is carrying a fucking nice handbag, probably a designer knockoff.

So perhaps it’s possible to straddle both worlds, the modern and primitive, in a way that connects us to our humanity and spirituality while still allowing for nice handbags! This is my dream.

What about you?