If Someone Dies at Home in Maine: Why You Can Slow Down What Comes Next

To Mainers, I’d probably be considered someone who’s from away. I’ve been here two years this month, and, if I’m honest, I’ve been in full-on hobbit mode. I’ve been enjoying the slowest pace I’ve ever experienced in my always-a-city-girl life: falling in love with the coastline, the deep woods, the very thorough seasons, the quiet rhythm that lives under everything.

I haven’t been out and about much as a death midwife here yet, but as this second year in Maine comes to a close, I’m ready to poke my head out of the hobbit hole and let folks know that I’m here if needed - and if I’m not close by - I have apprentices in Maine.

More and more people are searching for how to care for a loved one at home after death in Maine, whether they’re exploring home funerals, death doulas, or family-led after-death care.

Since I arrived, my focus has been on teaching death midwifery and grief work, guiding others through my Nine Keys School of Death Arts, not so much taking clients and families myself. But lately, I’ve been thinking about what happens when someone dies at home here in Maine, and how much gentle power there is in simply knowing what our options really are. So, I thought I’d do some research for those who find my page.

When our loved one dies, the world can tilt in a thousand directions at once. There’s shock, tears, confusion, sadness, and then, almost immediately, the sense that you must start doing things. Make calls. Find paperwork. Call a funeral home. But here’s the truth most people don’t know: in Maine, you are allowed to pause. You are allowed to slow down.

Maine law recognizes your right to care for your dead at home. In Maine, families can legally plan home funerals and keep the body at home for a short time before burial or cremation, according to Maine’s home funeral laws (Title 22 §2843-A). That means you can legally keep your loved one at home for a period of time before burial or cremation. You don’t have to surrender them immediately to a funeral home or institution. You can wash their hands, brush their hair, light a candle beside them, or sit in stillness while your body catches up to what your heart already knows.

Of course, there are practical steps that must still happen. A medical professional, usually the attending hospice nurse, will need to come to your home to pronounce the death, to complete a Pronouncement of Death form. Before a burial or cremation can take place, your town clerk issues what’s called a “disposition permit.” The Funeral Director can file for the death certificate. But none of these things erase your right to presence. After the death of your loved one, there is no urgency. You do not have to call your hospice group immediately.

Families in Maine have long cared for their dead at home. It is part of our cultural inheritance here. The law makes space for this as long as the family is tending to the process, communicating with their hospice group and making plans for final disposition. In plain language: you can take a few days. You can let the reality settle. You can let the room be a sanctuary instead of a site of panic.

Slowing down after a death is not problematic for hospice groups and funeral directors. Yet, the majority of us don’t know this. We feel rushed to make phone calls, when we should be staying near our grief, near the new absence of our loved one, tending gently. We need time to metabolize the truth.

Grief researcher Mary-Frances O’Connor writes, “Grief is a heart-wrenchingly painful problem for the brain to solve, and grieving necessitates learning to live in the world with the absence of someone you love deeply… you are walking through two worlds at the same time.” I think about that line often. The world of bodies and breath, and the world of mystery and memory, overlap in those early hours and days. If you rush, you miss that liminal tenderness, the moment when you begin learning how to live in both worlds at once.

So when someone dies at home, don’t let the noise of urgency sweep you away. If it feels right, close the door, lower the lights, and take a seat beside your beloved. Let yourself be quiet. Let your hands still know what care feels like. You have time. You are allowed to take it. After you feel ready to call the hospice group, then call.

If you feel like you need a death midwife to be there with you during those times, please contact me. I am blessed to have apprentices from Lowell, Maine, midcoast Maine, and Portland.