A Personal Grief Practice: The 7-Day Burial Ritual

Honoring Loss with Intention and Presence

Two weeks ago, I lost a longtime friend.

The kind of friend who drifts in and out of life's seasons, close in some chapters, distant in others, but always rooted in something real. I assumed we'd bump into each other again someday, laugh, catch up, and move on. That's how long-term relationships often go: elastic, unfinished, full of quiet understandings.

But sometimes, the universe has other plans.

As the founder of Until Death Doulas, I spend much of my time helping others navigate grief, death, and end-of-life transitions. Still, when an unexpected loss comes close, it's disorienting. I had just spoken at an event, introducing myself and the work I do as a death doula, and joked that I'd been "lucky" not to have experienced a personal, tragic death for a while. One day later, I was grieving.

Grief doesn't care about your timing. But ritual can help hold it.

Why a 7-Day Burial Ritual?

These can be small and intimate or larger, community-centered moments. One approach I often recommend is a 7-day burial ritual.

I first started doing this as a teenager after losing classmates, teachers, and friends. There isn't always a body to bury, and that left a lingering, unsettled feeling. Made up of both old and modern elements, it is a simple mourning practice that can be easily personalized, providing shape and time for grief. The ritual has evolved, and each has been unique to the person and circumstances.

Grief lasts far longer than a week. But setting aside seven intentional days to remember, reflect, and reconnect can be incredibly grounding.

What My 7-Day Grief Practice Looked Like

Day 1: Storytelling & Light

I lit a prayer candle. A small ritual that signaled the start of something sacred. I also shared a short video on my personal social media, telling a story about my friend. I invited others to do the same, and the responses surprised me. Hearing their memories brought unexpected peace and helped me feel less alone in my mourning.

Days 2–6: Connection, Nourishment & Movement

Each day, I carved out time for reflection and small acts of care:

  • I burned incense during writing sessions on my porch and collected the ashes in a small bowl.

  • I took walks and gathered flower petals, leaves, and small mementos.

  • I had dinner with friends. The guests were people who knew my friend or knew me well enough to sit with my grief.

  • I ate snacks that reminded me of my person and made space for quiet joy.

  • I did something we used to do together. It was a simple, shared activity that helped me feel close.

  • I wrote about them. I spoke about my friend with people we both knew. Let memories resurface without judgment.

These daily gestures weren't grand, but they created enough space for me to hold the weight of loss without collapsing under it.

Day 7: Ceremony & Closure

When the candle burned out, I knew the week had passed. I took the collected ashes, petals, and symbols of the week's reflection to my backyard. In a private moment, I buried them, offering back what I had carried. It was short and quiet. It was just enough.

Grief Deserves Ritual

This practice isn't about "moving on." It's about marking the loss. Acknowledging what was. Sitting with the ache and honoring what still remains.

I started Until Death Doulas to share the knowledge gained from my own experiences with loss and help others establish their own practices. End-of-life planning and death care rituals help you move through challenging transitions with compassion and clarity. Whether you're facing the death of a loved one or are exploring what it means to plan for your own, you are not alone.

Megan Morano

I'm Megan, founder of Until Death Doulas. I provide compassionate, non-medical support for end-of-life planning, focusing on celebration planning and Care Circle creation for adults 18+.

My path to this work started early, shaped by loss and grief in my community. Volunteering in palliative care as a teen, I realized the profound impact of listening to stories and being present with someone facing the unknown. After years in the events and music industry, I returned to death work, drawn to its meaningful nature.

Death isn't a crisis but a part of life that deserves care, dignity, and connection. I help you build the structures and support that reflect your values, whether planning for surgery or your final chapter.

https://untildeathdoulas.com
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