Designing a Farewell Ceremony That Feels Like Them (And Like You)

Some moments in life can’t be rushed. Saying goodbye is one of them.

If you're here, maybe you're about to return ashes to nature. Or maybe you're just beginning to imagine what that day might look like. Either way, I want to gently offer something: you don’t need to follow a script. This can be a moment made with love, shaped by who they were—and who you are now, loving them from this side.

In Pachamama, I’ve accompanied many families through this kind of ceremony. And I’ve also lived it. There’s no “right” way to do it. But here are some reflections that might help guide you as you create your own goodbye.

Choose a place that feels like them

I always say: let nature hold you. A forest, a field, a beach, a garden. Maybe it's where you walked together, or somewhere they always dreamed of visiting.

The place matters—not because of rules or tradition, but because it creates a container. A safe space for emotions, for memories, for silence. Don’t rush the choice. Visit, walk, breathe there. Let the space speak to you.

Choose something kind for the Earth

This part is close to my heart. At Pachamama, we create biodegradable urns that return softly to nature. Some dissolve in water, some decompose in the soil. All of them are made with intention and care.

The urn you choose doesn't need to be elaborate. It only needs to hold what matters—your love, your story, their presence. A gentle container for a sacred moment.

Bring what matters (and leave the rest)

I've seen families bring wildflowers, handwritten letters, their favorite song playing from a phone. One person brought cookies her dad used to bake.

You don’t need anything “special.” Just objects or gestures that carry meaning. Sometimes the most beautiful goodbyes are the quietest. A hand on a shoulder. A whispered thank you. A deep breath.

Let the moment unfold

There’s no perfect script. You might want to say a few words, read something, or simply stand in silence. You might cry. You might laugh remembering something silly. All of it is welcome.

If you’re with others, invite them to share something too. If you’re alone, know you’re still held. I’ve done ceremonies in both ways, and each one carried its own beauty.

And if kids are present—include them. Let them draw something, plant a flower, say goodbye in their way. These rituals stay with them, in quiet, healing ways.

And afterwards… let yourself feel

Sometimes the ceremony brings a bit of peace. Sometimes it opens a whole new wave of grief. Both are okay.

You might want to come back to that place one day. Or keep a small ritual at home—a candle, a photo, a garden blooming in their honor.

This moment is just one chapter. The love continues. So does the remembering.

This work I do with Pachamama was born from grief, from love, and from the desire to create moments that feel sacred and human. Helping families say goodbye in ways that honor both their person and the Earth is one of the deepest privileges of my life.

If you’re here, thank you for walking this path. For choosing presence. For making meaning, even in the midst of loss.

You're not alone.

With love always,
Virginia