Lost, and Found

In March this year, Busted of Busted Babymaker lost her twins at 23w due to placental abruption. (Busted refers to them by her pregnancy nickname, "The Doodles," and after this discussion took place, formally named them Noah and Talia.)

During her hospital stay, someone with authority spoke with her about the options in dealing with the twin's remains, and Busted chose to have the hospital take care of them. As the twins' due date approached in July, Busted felt the need to do something commemorative. And when she called around to find out where she might visit her children's remains, she was shocked to hear that they were "lost".

Busted wrote a series of posts (listed below) on how exactly this happened, and how the twins were "found" again, and how she ultimately dealt with their remains. We post this today -- and hopefully on this website permanently  -- so babyloss mamas fully understand what their options are. Sadly, these decisions are frequently made when we're understandably emotionally drained, and there are some caveats many wish had been better explained at the time.

Following is an interview with Busted about her experience in July and links to her posts outlining the process. There are so many ways to care for the remains of the deceased, as the comments on Busted's final post remind us, and we hope you'll add your experience here (or there) as well.

We often say, "No Mother should have to think about these things". Except we do. My wish is that these explicit thoughts, explanations, and concerns help not only parents undergoing this awful experience, but professionals and their ability to articulate these options clearly and sympathetically.

Do you remember how this particular option -- having the hospital deal with it -- was explained to you in the hospital?

Not specific words, but I really don't think it was made clear enough to us how little finality/concrete evidence we would have of the final result.
 
I know they told us that we had the options to make private arrangements or let the hospital take care of things, and that if the hospital took care of things we could either choose cremation or burial. At first we chose cremation, but then we wanted a place to visit our babies so we changed our minds and decided on burial (I didn't know at the time that you can bury ashes). In either case we wanted to let the hospital take care of things because it seemed to painful to do it ourselves. I couldn't fathom calling funeral homes to bury my babies just days after I had been happily pregnant, and we aren't religious so I didn't have a compelling reason to have a ceremony or last rites.
 
They did at least tell us at the time that it wasn't an individual grave, but a grave where they would be buried with other babies, without markers, in an area of a graveyard reserved for such lost babies. Only a couple weeks later when I met with the hospital's social worker to get the photos of our babies did I get more (but still not enough) color on the situation when I asked if we would be able to confirm exactly when they were buried. Then she told us that the medical examiner was so backlogged that they didn't provide exact names and dates of burial, but would at least be able to confirm that babies who died on or before X date had been buried as of the date of inquiry. Clearly even that was not the case, as the real situation was that when I called 3 months later she wasn't able to provide any info other than the fact that their bodies had left the hospital, and she wasn't able to get even a response from the medical examiner's office.
 
What did you assume would happen, based on what you were told?  

I assumed, as I was told, that even if they couldn't tell me "Doodle A and Doodle B [Surname] were buried on X date", they would at least be able to say "Babies who died at X hospital on or before X date have been buried to date." They couldn't even do that. I assumed that 4 months later on our due date we would know, and be able to go visit them.
 
Do you feel these choices could've been better articulated to you?  

I wish they had said that we may never have concrete knowledge that our babies had been buried because of administrative and bureaucratic disorganization and backlog. I wish they had made it clear that the social worker had no greater means to get information than we did personally. I wish they had been clearer on the time frames we were facing (when I met with the social worker weeks after our loss and said I wanted to confirm they would be buried by their due date, still almost 4 months away, she said that she believed they would, but they were not, and who knows how much longer it would have taken had we not reclaimed our babies). Finally, even if it might not have convinced me at the time, I wish they would have given us the information necessary if we wanted to change our minds before it was too late (perhaps before they left the hospital).

Did anything change for you between losing the twins in March and wanting to commemorate them in July? Did something shift regarding their remains and how you wanted to deal with them?  

Yes. I learned that nothing could be more painful than simply losing them. I realized that all the things I tried to "protect" us from when making decisions in the hospital (not having pictures of us holding them, not choosing to make our own burial/cremation arrangements) because I thought they would be too painful would actually have brought me peace to do. This is the biggest message I can pass along to others who may still be at the stage where they can make decisions. I know everyone is different and what turned out to be right for us may differ greatly for others, but in my experience at least, nothing could be worse than just losing them, and as much as the later details may hurt, taking care of them myself, having the memories, however painful, was so much better than not knowing where my babies were, not having more pictures I wished I had (and sorry to digress on an unrelated topic).
 
What will you do now?  

We have our Doodles back with us now, in a beautiful heart shaped paper urn in our closet with their scrapbook, memory boxes and other mementos. At some point we would like to have their ashes buried, probably with family, but for now it brings us more comfort to have them close to us physically, particularly after what we have been through with getting them back.

Links to Busted's posts:

Have You Seen My Doodles?

Lost Versus Lost (Versus "Lost")

We're Getting Our Doodles Back

Arrangements

Calling All Deadbaby Mamas


What options were you given, and what did you chose to do?  Are you comfortable now with the decisions you made then?  And finally, what or where is the "final resting place" of your children's remains?

Comments

[Antigone]

I was lucky to have delivered at the unofficial deadbaby hospital in my metro. The staff helped me navigate my way through the process in a way that many hospitals with less experience in stillbirth seem to fail to.

After the autopsy, I had him cremated, wrapped in a receiving blanket which had a baseball and glove print on it. Wow...I just sat here and cried thinking about that blanket. Anyway, I have an engraved urn I keep near me. Having his remains on my nightstand helped me tremendously, especially in those first weeks. It gave me something to hold.

[Kathy McC]

I lost both of my babies at the same hospital. It was a Catholic hospital. Most of the time I don't agree with the Catholic church, but in this case, I was grateful to be in their hands. They treated my girls respectfully and told me step by step what would happen. They were both cremated and buried in a babies cemetery near the hospital. Unfortunately, I have not had the guts up to this point to go visit that cemetery. It is just too painful for me. I have chosen to keep the memento's from their pregnancies in a safe place in my closet. That, for me, is enough.

[loribeth]

I was told I had to arrange for burial or cremation (or let the hospital do so), as the baby was past 19 weeks gestation. I was quite relieved, because I knew my baby wasn't going to wind up being burned along with other "medical waste." My mother had suggested soon after I called her with the bad news that we could have a little memorial service, & now I knew that we could actually have a funeral & know where our baby was.

There was a paper in the information package the social worker gave me that listed some local funeral homes. We decided on cremation but knew we wanted the ashes put in a cemetery. (Cremation does not bother me, but scattering & leaving no visible marker of your presence does!) The cemetery showed us three options -- a burial plot in the "Garden of Angels" with othe babies; a regular cremation burial plot, or a niche in a wall. We chose the niche, There is a plaque on it with a vase for flowers, & we still visit there every week, 10 years after our loss.

I have heard stories from other parents who were not well briefed about their choices or the consequences of their decisions. I can remember reading an article several years ago about parents in Ottawa who lost twin girls. The hospital offered to "take care" of the arrangements for them. The couple did not realize this meant burial in a mass grave, & that they would not know the exact location where their daughters were. When they found out, they sued the hospital. I never did hear how the case turned out, but the negative publicity alone should be reason for hospitals to ensure that all options (& the consequences of each decision) are clearly explained to bereaved parents.

Each October, my support group holds a Walk to Remember in Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Toronto. We walk to the Children's Garden, which was created by a bereaved mother. Her son died 40-some years ago when it was common for babies to be buried together in mass, anonymous graves. In this cemetery, these plots are actually right along the sides of the roads the wind through the cemetery. After some years, the mother tried to have her son's body exhumed & reburied in the family plot -- but even if she had been able to pinpoint exactly where he was buried, she would have had to get permission to open the grave from the families of every other baby buried there! She created the garden instead as a memorial to her son, as close to the site of his burial as she could determine.

[Anna]

We were given the options of private burial, private cremation, and hospital dispostions where his body would be cremated with the bodies of other fetuses and infants and the ashes would all be placed together in an urn, and the urn would be buried at a plot designated for lost babies after it was full (which is reported to take about a year).

I selected hospital disposition for several reasons. Most importantly, my husband had shut down at that point. He was not able to give an opinion regarding what should be done with the baby's remains. I thought he would want the whole process to be over as quickly as possible and with hospital dispostion there are no funeral arrangements to make and no ashes to pick up later.

Also, if there were a grave I was afraid I would cling to it and that it might prevent me from moving from the area later in life.

Regarding private cremation, I was told that at 20 weeks gestation there would be little or no ashes resulting because the baby's bones are not dense at that point. I was told people who select this option often include a blanket or clothing to be cremated with the body so that there are more ashes. I didn't want ashes from a blanket.

I have not been to the plot yet to see if the urn containing his remains has been buried yet because I am afraid I will not be able to tell if he has been buried yet.

The more time that passes the more I regret choosing hospital dispostion. I wish I had a place to visit where I knew his body or ashes were resting. It's impossible to know what will bring you the most comfort in the future when your head is still spinning from the death of your baby. On the day I signed the papers releasing his body for hospital disposition I was making the best choice for my husband and I that I could, given that I was numb from sorrow and medication. I still respect this choice because it was not made lightly, but knowing what I know now about the panic involved in wondering what happened to his body I would have chosen burial or private cremation.

[Heather]

The night Charlotte died, her neonatal nurse came and asked us if we planned to have a funeral. We hadn't thought about it until that point, but we immediately said yes, and she explained that some of the local funeral homes would provide complimentary services for babies. It was a relief. That nurse ended up making the initial contact with a funeral home on our behalf. We didn't know where to start.

She also said that some people leave the remains with the hospital, but there were no details beyond that. We didn't ask for any, because it wasn't our plan.

Charlotte is buried in a little white casket at the feet of my husband's grandfather. His grandmother will eventually rest there as well. I'm happy she has a place, a special place. We visit often.

As we contemplate future pregnancies with a real chance of losing again, I worry that there would be no room for another baby in that plot. I don't know what we'd do.

You're right; things no mother should ever have to think about.

But here we are.

[A.M.S.]

As odd as if feels to say it, I suppose I feel incredibly lucky that we had the experience we did. Obviously at the level NICU we were in, the death of newborns is nothing new and, in hindsight, I realize that everything they did when Lennox and then Zoe died was calculated to help us get through it and leave us with as few regrets as possible. As we held Lennox, they took photos even though at the time I felt like it was inappropriate and that I'd never want to see them. They insisted that we hold him as long as we wanted. Then, they took photos of him after we left. We were given no options in regards to how to handle his remains. We were instructed to select a funeral home and to provide the hospital with their name. From my hospital bed, still hooked up to IVs and oxygen, on a Sunday morning, I blundered my way through finding a funeral home to cremate my son. It's not really an experience we get prepared for, is it? Neither Shannon nor I are religious and I've never liked the idea of being buried, so there was no real struggle for me with that.

When Zoe died, again, a nurse took pictures as we held her and again, at the time it felt intrusive. However, I'm sure someday I will be thankful that someone preserved those last moments with her. Again, I handled the funeral home arrangements. At least this time, they already knew us and it was much easier.

As incredibly hard as it was to make those phone calls and plans, it was something I NEEDED to do. It was the last time I was going to take care of my babies and even if it ripped my heart out I was going to do it, every single step from the phone calls to going in to sign the forms to picking up the little plastic boxes.

Right now, their ashes are safely stored in the closet with the memory boxes the NICU put together for them. Hopefully this spring we'll get their elm trees planted at their grandparents' lake house and we'll sprinkle their ashes there so that they will always be at home with family.

Someday, I'll get those photos developed and maybe someday much later I'll even look at them. Right now, it is enough to me to know that they exist.

I don't know if it's the right approach for everyone. For me, I understand that I needed every bit of it. I needed to control all of those details personally, both because I needed something to focus on and because I needed to know exactly what was going to be done. At the time I remember thinking "I shouldn't have to be doing this" but now, I'm glad I did. I know I would have been miserable not being in control.

[Beth]

After Charlie passed away, arrangements were made with a funeral home our family has dealt with for ages. My big brother called the funeral home at about 4 in the morning, and they were sent to pick up our son's body sometime after that. Charlie passed away at almost 3 in the morning, and we were able to hold him for about 3 hours after he had passed. The hospital asked if we wanted pictures taken, but we declined since we had pictures from the three days he lived. We took one photo after he passed since it was the only one of him wearing clothes but it remains in his memory box that the hospital had prepared for us.
The hospital took him to the morgue until the funeral director picked him up later that morning, and Charlie's funeral arrangements were made later that evening. He was buried in a family plot, and we purchased our burial plots right next to him. I never thought I'd be in my mid 20's and already know where my "final" resting place would be.
No parent should ever have to think about choosing their child's final resting place. I'm just glad that my family was there to help us get through the process of planning the funeral, choosing the flowers, and getting us from point a to point b in the minutes, days, and weeks following Charlie's death.

[S.]

We buried my daughter in a place called "BabyLand" at the local cemetery. There are a lot of young children and babies buried there, and there are often parents and loved ones visiting when I visit. They only put the caskets three feet under ground, so that if/when the parents decide to move them, they can for a minimal fee. When we buy plots for ourselves one day, we will have her moved by us. The cemetery is close to my house, and my husband and I walk over there every Sunday afternoon. It's been nice to have a "place" to go and visit- both for us and for family and friends.

I have to say, though, that it was extremely hard burying her. She passed away in the dead of Winter (we live in a state with a lot of snow), and when we chose her casket, I just told the mortuary that I wanted it to be warm. I just couldn't stand the thought of my baby being cold. The sweet mortician probably thought I was crazy, but didn't say anything. I later found out that he went and bought extra insulation at the local Home Depot to fully insulate her little casket.

[Lori]

Because we were given such clear information, and compassionate guidance, it always startles me to hear of situations like Busted has described here. My heart just breaks to think that they were rushed into a decision, under heart wrenching circumstances, with incomplete, inadequate information.

We were visited by a perinatal social worker and she was a wealth of information which she imparted very gently, and very carefully. She gave us printed materials so that we could go over our options. I think this is critical since parents are in such a fog during these stressful times. Because we were given this information before our babies were even born we did have the luxury of a little bit of time to go over the materials and talk with one another before making our decision. We did choose to have our twins cremated by a local, reputable funeral home who handles any loss of a child free of charge (God bless those funeral homes who have thought to offer this small act of mercy and compassion). We still have their remains at home in a small, custom made box.
At this point our plan is that they will be buried with one of us which we will make clear in our Will.

[layla]

We lost our son at 17 weeks and our experience was good (? can it be good). We're in the UK but I think our hospital was far better in the way that they dealt with bereavement than many are.

The hospital have a contract with the local funeral director & every baby born after 14 weeks gets a burial/cremation & service - even if the parents choose not to attend.

We chose a burial because we knew that given Toby's size we'd be unlikely to have any ashes from cremation. Anyway he was buried in the 'baby garden' (slightly gruesome name I think - it's a separate part of the cemetery) & we had a service in the chapel led by the hospital chaplain. My husband & father both read poems, the 'theme' was be able to let go - we all cried a lot. It was arranged between our bereavement midwife (who we were calling at least a couple of times a week) & the chaplain. Our parents, my sister, our children & our best friend came. The hospital paid for it all - we even had a hearse and funeral procession, although I carried his coffin to the grave (we chose to have him at home the night before the funeral).

We'd lost a baby previously at 14+ weeks & she was blessed & cremated.

We could've arranged our own funeral if we wanted too - as it is Toby is buried in a communal baby grave but has his own marker etc He's actually the first one in the grave which I find slightly distressing (obviously I don't want any body else' babies to die) - the grave won't be filled in & we won't be able to put a proper marker on etc for at least a year.

I know lots of UK hospitals will only do communal services for pre-viable babies they have to be 24+ weeks to get a certificate of stillbirth/death over here). It was - with hindsight - incredibly important that he was recognised as a person by people/the establishment. It was beautiful, his service. I made a burial gown for him & did the funeral flowers.

I'm very grateful that we have somewhere to visit him, but still get the overwhelming urge/dream/nightmare that I need dig him up & bring him home.

[Katherine]

My first baby was disposed of with the medical waste after "biopsy." This despite me frantically asking if I could please have my baby's remains in the ER. This is something that I thought I would eventually come to terms with, but I haven't. I know there's no bones or hard tissue on what was essentially a 6 week fetus (I carried until 14 weeks not knowing anything was wrong, but the baby had stopped growing around 6 weeks) but that was my baby, and we should have been able to bury him/her. I grew up in a medical family, I know what things look like.

Aeryn's ashes are in an urn in my china hutch right now. At the end of April my mother and I had gone in and ordered a special curio cabinet which was supposed to hold her remains, the plaster molds, and the things which were hers, but it's still not come in, and nobody can tell me whether it's even being manufactured or not. I tried putting the things up on a little shelf and one of the molds fell and cracked - it is fixed reasonably well now, but it still tears me up that it cracked - so everything's back in the top of my china cabinet, glasses and dishes shoved out of the way to make room. It's strange but that's the safest place I could find for her ashes in this constant construction zone. Even though I do not touch the urn, because it's hard to believe that her ashes are in there, I would be horrified if something happened to it before the cemetery is ready.

I keep trying to disassociate my idea of my babies from their bodies, but it's hard. Yes, so it's a shell we use for a while. Ashes to ashes, and so on...but...these were my children, I carried them within me and so I feel like they are still part of me even though they are not here, and it's as though someone had come along and chopped off my foot, a phantom limb, to not know where one is.

[Jennifer]

When Noah passed, the hospital contacted a funeral home with experience in situations like ours. They had to transport him to another city for the autospy to do genetic testing. It still takes my breath away when I think about that. In hindsight, I wish we hadn't had one. Once they returned him to our home town, we were given the opportunity to see him before he was cremated. I declined. I was scared to see him after that. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to leave. I regret this choice. I would give anything for one more moment with him.

We had a memorial service with the hospital chaplain who baptized our twins when they were born. We read Noah's favorite book and showed as many pictures of him as we could. We buried Noah's ashes in the local cemetary. We had the choice of burying him with other babies, but at the time we decided on a regular plot. We buried his ashes so his surviving twin would have a place to visit. I often wish that I had chosen something different. I feel very distant and empty when I visit. Sometimes, I wish I could just dig up the earth and find the box of his ashes. I know though that Monkey (he is 2) will forever have a place to see his brother. When we visit, he says "Bubba" and kisses Noah's picture that is etched in his headstone.

In hindsight, I am not sure that any babylost mama doesn't second guess their final decisions regarding their children. We are forced to make them under such dire circumstances. All I know is that I did the best I could and remind myself of that when I question my choices. It is not a choice that we should have to make. All we can do is what feels right at the time.

[cheerleader]

Wow, you guys. I would never have imagined this ordeal - how so very hard, in the weeks later, when you wish to grieve or have something tangible of them and to then have nothing. I am angry at that hospital for this author; it seems so insensitive...entirely...but I am relieved to hear they were able to 'find' their babies and move on. This is an important topic to bring to light. Hugs to you all. XO

[starrlife]

What a helpful post. I feel for the writer and all who need to struggle with critical decisions at a time of vulnerability and devastation.

[tash]

Katherine, FWIW, for a great deal of time I referred to the bag of ashes as "Maddy." And my husband kept correcting me, "Maddy's remains." It was almost impossible not to think of this ziplock as her, as all I had left.

I feel almost guilty for entering this discussion because as fate would have it, my husband's uncle is a funeral director in NY. We called him immediately, he called a friend in our town, and without having to do anything really, everything was done for us. Children's is sadly very versed in the process, and the home this uncle set us up with was familiar with them. We simply signed papers that had already been filled out, and picked up her ashes, and paid nothing (although I don't think they charge to cremate an infant). Everything was done behind the scenes.

I was always one of those people who thought keeping ashes in the house was kinda creepy, but here I am, with a neatly wrapped little box (like you might get at a bakery if you were to buy only 2 cookies) in a ziplock on my bookshelf. We go back and forth between wanting a permanent place to visit, and a place to simply let them go into the universe, into the sunset, into a meaningful space. We're getting a memorial bench made at a nearby park, and maybe once that's done what to do with her remains will come into focus.

Thank you all for sharing these stories.

[Alexa]

When Ames died, I was informed that because of his gestation (more than 20 weeks) we would have to make arrangements ourselves. At the time this seemed insurmountably difficult, but in retrospect, and especially reading Busted's story, I am glad that we did not have the option of letting the hospital take care of (I hate that phrase--of course nothing would have been "taken care of") his remains. We had Ames cremated, and I plan to plant a tree and bury/scatter his ashes when we own land of our own (we live in an apartment now), and the idea of having a concrete place to visit where his remains actually reside is comforting to me.

[Carol]

I still remember this as the moment it became real to me. I had been stoic, staring at the wall in disbelief, for hours of labouring, until she said it: you will have to decide whether to cremate or bury your baby.
Bury my baby?
I wanted to bring her home. My body shattered, my brain exploded, I wanted to die. The wracking sobs shook me to my core. What mother should have to make this choice?
We chose to cremate, but the kind social worker took care of all the arrangements with the funeral home. At the time this all seemed too much for us, so we signed some forms and left the hospital. A few days later, the funeral home called us to pick up Charlotte's "remains". It poured with rain the day we went to pick up the little, ceramic urn, and I sat in the car with the urn on my lap and cried harder than I'd ever thought possible as our car turned into our driveway. We were bringing our baby home.
In hindsight, I wish we'd made these arrangements ourselves. While cremation still may have been the choice to make, I wish we'd had a proper wake, and taken the responsibility as her parents to arrange these things ourselves.
But I recognize with complete clarity that we did the best we could, at the time, under the circumstances.

[Erica]

We had traveled out of state for my son's birth. The hospital chaplain was the first person to talk to us about arrangements for our baby's body. She gave us a list of funeral homes that were known for being good at working with families who'd lost infants, but we were pretty much on our own making decisions about which to use, about finding a place that could cremate the body soon enough for us to travel home with the ashes (we didn't want to have them mailed). If it hadn't been for my father-in-law, who made all of the initial calls to funeral homes and asked the initial questions it would have destroyed me to ask (that's how it felt anyway), we still would have managed something, though I don't know how. I will always be grateful to him for helping us.

We have a ridiculously tiny urn in our bedroom now. I think some day we'll open it and scatter the ashes, but it might be a while since we aren't anywhere near ready to let any more of him go. Busted's story makes me cringe, but I'm so glad the Doodles were found.

[lisa]

for all that i don't know in this swamp of grief i do know i'm okay with our decisions for wyatt's body.

cremation was an immediate response for both of us. somehow i blurted out a local funeral home familiar to me and we went from there.
we chose to do the autopsy, even though we knew and were told there was little chance of knowing how/why wyatt died. but we felt the need to do it and our midwife urged us to as well. maybe someday someone can make use of his autopsy to save another baby, you never know.
we don't believe in burial in caskets...but, selfishly, i had moments of regret, wishing we'd embalmed him so we could see him one more time and show our family his pure beauty, his perfect little self....but i know that wasn't our path.

the hospital was amazing with offers of written material, grief counselors, sensitive nurses, pictures, time and space to be with our baby etc.

the funeral home was so attentive and gracious with every detail. they took care of the cremation and retrieved/delivered my placenta from the coroner, they printed 'in memory' cards for our service, wrote and placed the obituary, gave us a baby book with his foot and hand prints, pictures etc already imprinted inside, provided a grief counselor who works especially with children for our other 2 children and the list goes on. a very touching gesture: they gave our 2 older children gund teddy bears with lockets with wyatt's name engraved on the outside and his pictures inside (the children chose their favorite 2 pictures). we call them their 'wyatt bears'.

they took care of every detail (asking for our input and involvement) for all of $150.
unbelievable.
i felt incredibly cared for and consoled with such attention. they were wonderful to us.
i am grateful once again.

[tracy]

I don't remember the options being spelled out to me, but they were to my husband. I vaguely remember him telling me, and I think, suggesting that the hospital cremate them. I was OK with that. I still am. I delivered them in May and slowly both of our parents, especially our mothers, began encouraging us to have some kind of service and burial. I think there was not closure for them, and this was so not what they were used to, they ached for it to be "normal" in the sense of a funeral or something. Our 3 babies remains were held somewhere close to the hospitial, I don't remember exactly where but my husband went to pick them up. Each of them was in a separate plastic bag. It was so difficult to see them, the finality of that. Good friends had handmade and painted a ceramic box with their names, and all 3 went in there together, right away. To me, they are one. I don't refer to them as triplets, but as the babies. They belong together. In September of that year, we planned a memorial service. We are Catholic and a catholic cemetary has a children's garden and they took care of everything at no charge. Our priest came and spoke at the cemetary building and just our immediate family was present. I can remember it all like yesterday, how we stood, what we all looked like and the emptiness I felt. In retrospect, I am glad we did what we did but I would be just as comfortable having them here, in that box. Maybe even moreso. I have only been to the cemetary once in 8 years and I am OK with that. I do not find comfort in visiting there but I am at peace with their resting place.