Death Dialogue With Morgan Brown

Morgan Brown was frustrated with people's responses to her grief over her mom's sudden death. She channeled her frustration into regular blog posts that became the foundation for Death Dialogue—her ongoing art installations, workshops, and conversations about death with people who are still living. We're talking about her popular touring phone booth project called "Conversations I Wish I Had" and how frustration with others' grief coping skills can be channeled into fuel to connect with others.

Transcript

I'm so excited to have you here on the show,

Referred by one of our other guests,

Gladys Otto,

Who was on the first episode of this season of Coming Back.

She said,

Hey,

You're a 20-something that does things with grief.

Here's another 20-something who does things with grief.

I'm so excited to have you on as kind of,

For lack of a better phrasing,

Like a millennial who has a perspective of grief in the work that you do.

Can you kind of start us off with your lost story,

And then we'll slowly transition into what your work is and how it speaks to others in the world?

Yeah.

My lost story started when I was 22.

I was just out of college,

And I had gone home for the weekend to celebrate my mom and my sister's birthday.

And I came back.

I was living in Santa Cruz,

California at the time,

And I came back to my apartment there.

Two days passed,

And I went to work,

And I was getting a lot of text messages and phone calls from my dad.

But I was at work,

So I couldn't answer them.

And I left work to go to another meeting,

And I was late,

And I was driving down the highway,

And I called him back.

And I don't know if you can relate,

But my dad does this thing where he'll call me many times,

And I'll think it's urgent,

But it's to be like,

Hey,

Your insurance card came.

And so I was in that mindset where I didn't think it was important because my dad does that thing where he'll call multiple times.

And so I wasn't thinking like,

Oh,

He's called five times.

This is urgent.

I was like,

Oh,

Dad just wants to tell me something.

And he did want to tell me something.

And so I called,

And he was asking where I was.

And he was really kind of shy and timid.

And he was like,

Where are you?

Can you pull over?

But I was late for a meeting,

So I wasn't thinking,

Yeah,

I'll just pull over.

And so I was kind of pushing back,

Being like,

Well,

What is it?

What is it?

And he finally yelled,

And he was just like,

Morgan,

Pull over.

And as a side note,

I had never heard my dad yell before.

He's like a very gentle human.

And so I pulled over into a shopping center,

And I yelled back because at that point,

I'm still thinking that it's not important.

And I yell,

What?

I'm like,

I'm late for a meeting.

I don't have time for this.

I was totally in my head like,

I'm late for a meeting.

This is a new job.

You're calling me to tell me something that's not important.

Like just tell me.

And so I pull over and I yell,

What?

And there's just silence on the other end.

And I start hearing these soft sobs in the background.

And I start freaking out.

And I'm saying,

Dad,

Please just tell me.

And I'm crying because I've heard my dad cry maybe one other time when my childhood dog died.

And visions are flashing through my head and I'm like,

Someone's hurt.

Someone's hurt.

And he finally is able to choke out your mom.

She died in a car accident going to work.

And I'm like,

Yeah,

It's interesting to notice how sometimes I can tell that story and it's just a story.

And then there are other times I allow myself to step into the story.

And it's real all over again.

And so I start freaking out and I'm hitting the steering wheel of my car and I'm kicking the dash and I'm just throwing things.

And I say,

Okay,

I'm coming home.

And he says,

Okay.

And then I hang up and I'm just sitting on the side of the highway,

Totally comatose.

I don't know what to do.

I can't drive home right now.

I'm a total mess.

And I have this clear image of seeing these two women walking on the sidewalk by the highway that cuts through Santa Cruz and they're laughing.

And I remember thinking,

Don't they know?

How are they laughing right now?

The world just stopped.

And I remember looking at the cars to my left going to work and just not understanding how they were able to go on.

It was so just,

I felt like my world collapsed and I was watching these people go on with their life and it was so confusing to me.

It felt like this out of body experience.

I don't really know how to explain it.

I was just totally confused.

And then I called my boss essentially for the meeting that I was late to.

And she was like,

What's going on?

And I'm just hysterical.

And so she was with two of my coworkers and they drove to my location and they got me in a car.

I don't even remember what car.

And they took me to their house and they emailed my other boss because I was working a couple jobs and they're like,

Morgan's not going to be into work for a little bit.

They got me a black dress because they're just,

They're in planning mode.

They're trying to think what does she need?

Because I can't think for myself.

And then I drove home or they drove me home,

Thankfully.

And yeah,

And then I entered that world of just being home and trying to understand what just happened.

I'm letting out this huge,

Just like exhale because that is such a,

There's so much that happens in a split second in this story that it's like,

Holy crap.

And thank you for going there today.

That's just so powerful.

And I have the same thing happened to me too.

And I'm sure so many of our listeners can relate where sometimes you're telling the story and you can,

You get all the way through and you're like,

Well,

That's it.

That's the story.

And sometimes it's like,

Oh my God,

I'm sitting in that car.

Just that visual is so strong and this instant rage,

This instant lack of understanding,

This instant,

You have suddenly stepped over the threshold into a new,

It's like a whole other level of consciousness when somebody you love dies and you don't,

You kind of get forcibly placed there.

Nobody visits of their own free will.

So I'm interested to know next,

Like what you remember about the days and the weeks that followed that.

Like what was that like for you?

Yeah.

Oh man,

It was so messy.

I talked to a lot of people who are kind of in their first year after they've lost someone that they love and they're kind of talking a lot about how nothing makes sense and it's confusing and they're disoriented.

And they're like,

Am I crazy?

And I'm like,

No,

You are not crazy.

This is incredibly normal.

I felt like I was living in a dream world.

I was home for two weeks.

I grew up in the Central Valley of California and I was home for two weeks.

And during those weeks I was a mess.

We were drinking a lot.

I have two sisters and I remember coming home the day that I found out that my mom died and came home that night and I fell asleep in the living room because I didn't want to be alone.

And my sisters hadn't come home yet.

And I remember the next morning kind of waking up and my head hurt and my face hurt.

And I kind of heard these soft sobs coming from a part of the living room.

And I looked up and my sister was sitting on my dad's lap crying and I was like,

Oh my God,

This is real.

And there were moments of that being so real throughout those days and months and weeks.

And then there were so many times where it didn't feel real at all.

I remember going through Santa Cruz.

I went back to Santa Cruz and just being really reckless because none of it was real.

I was living in this dream world.

And examples of that is,

I would maybe buy something that I wanted without thinking,

Do I have the money for this?

Because in the world that I was living,

Money didn't exist or it just didn't matter.

I remember walking across the street and not using crosswalks and just kind of like not.

.

.

It wasn't like I was trying to harm myself.

It was that I didn't believe the world that I was living in truly existed.

I remember going.

.

.

I got a new phone about a week before my mom died.

So I have a picture of her,

Like the last picture I have of her is taking a selfie on my new phone because I hadn't had an iPhone or anything.

Selfies were new to me.

And I lost all her voicemails and text messages.

And I remember going into the Verizon store and asking to talk to a manager.

And this is two weeks after my mom died and I'm trying to keep it together.

And she's like,

Why do you want these voicemails?

And I'm like,

Well,

My mom.

.

.

And I'm making a total scene in the Verizon store because my dead mom's voice is on this network.

Like,

Where do you keep it?

And she's just like,

We don't have that.

And I'm like,

I don't believe you.

Yeah.

I don't know how to explain it.

And I think people who experience it also can relate to that when you're at the depths of despair,

There's also this weird,

Almost manic ecstasy that happens.

Like where things become extra funny or it's realizing that you're alive and so you're moving through the world with this.

.

.

I don't know if it's mania,

But it's just like you're holding agony and ecstasy in both of your hands.

And it can look really messy where you realize like,

Oh,

I only have one life,

So I'm going to do this ridiculous thing.

But then you're also deeply grieving and you're deeply sad.

And so the floor falling out from under me looked very,

Very messy.

It looked like a lot of drinking.

It looked like sleeping all day or staying up all night.

There was no rhyme or reason or consistency to any of it.

It was very just in the moment.

What do I want right now?

And I'm going to get it.

Whatever that is,

Whether it's buying a pair of socks that make me happy when I'm sad or crossing a busy street without a crosswalk and not really caring of any of the consequences that may come from it.

This is almost a part of my own grieving process that I forgot about.

And I think a lot of people,

A lot of other people who were watching me go through this,

This is what they remember most about my grief is that feeling of there are extremes or there is nothing.

And that's like,

Those are the two worlds that you live in.

And that's not how like,

Quote unquote,

Normal people walk around existing in the world.

Everybody else is kind of just like hanging out in the middle,

Pretty well balanced,

Nothing absolutely life shattering has just happened to me.

And you're like,

Can't you see none of this matters?

And yet everything matters at the same time.

I'm really going to ramp up the extremes of how much can I feel or how little can I feel at the very same time.

And yeah,

It's like you said,

You're holding both of those things in your hands at the same time.

You're like,

I don't know what to do with this,

So I'm going to do everything.

Yeah,

And I felt absolutely like no consistency,

No,

You know,

I'm really relating to you on this.

And that's a portion I think that I forgot about because the other thing that I really remember is just feeling a total sense of like,

You know,

That buzzing sound after a concert when they turn off all the speakers and it's like that numbness of like,

I'm not even,

I'm not listening,

I'm not feeling,

I'm not sensing,

I'm not tasting,

Like everything is like that flatline numbness.

And it was either that or like the manic insanity.

And I'm like,

This is,

It's a very powerful and also very exhausting place to live.

Totally.

It's also really interesting to see how I sometimes romanticize that time.

I don't ever say it was easy or I want to go back there because it was absolutely the worst time of my life.

And it's one of those things where if anything were to happen in the future,

Nothing will be as bad as that.

I know it for sure.

I used to live in San Francisco and I remember walking down the street and seeing this man who appeared to live without a proper home crossing a really busy street in San Francisco with all of his things and he just did not care.

He did not give a fuck.

And I had this jolt of remembrance of what that was like.

And it was such an odd experience because then the second thing to remembering what it was like was a longing for it to just not give two shits,

To just be a creature being a creature.

And if I want to cross the street,

I'm going to cross the street.

If I'm going to sit on the sidewalk,

I'm going to do it.

If I'm going to yell at you,

I'm going to yell at you.

There was no filter of what is appropriate and what are the rules and how should I act.

It was just,

I'm going to do exactly what I want to do.

And if you're in my way,

I'm going to make you move.

It's just this weird sense of every fiber of your body being so electrified or like you said,

Numb,

Like that analogy of a concert going off and it's that buzz.

It's so just one or the other.

It's never this streamlined,

In between,

Easygoing thing.

How did this entire process fit into your life?

How did you start to make things come to a place of that balance again?

I was 22.

I didn't know anyone my age who had lost a parent.

I didn't have any resources.

I had people who were older,

In their 40s,

In their 50s,

In their 60s being like,

I lost my mom when she was 80,

So I know how it feels.

I was just like,

Fuck off.

You don't know how any of this feels.

It's not to say that grieving isn't,

Right?

One is not valued more than the other.

It's just like,

Don't try to tell me that you can relate to me because you can't.

I was really pissed off because I was getting it from all angles.

I started keeping a blog just for friends and family to update me on how I was doing because when you're asked 40 times in a week,

How are you?

How are you?

How are you?

Do you need anything?

What are you thinking?

What are you doing?

It was so overwhelming that I felt like it was just this cassette tape playing over and over and over again.

How are you doing?

Not well.

Do you need anything?

No.

I started keeping a blog about just how I was doing.

I would share it on Facebook because I didn't know who wanted to check in on me or who didn't.

Over time,

I started getting people who I hadn't talked to in a while reaching out to me and being like,

Whoa,

I had this experience too.

I don't know you that well,

But this is my experience with that.

That got me really thinking about how we talk about death and dying and how we don't know how to talk to others about it.

It was kind of this half-baked thing where I was just writing online for myself and for my family and then about a year after my mom died,

I traveled the world.

Like I said in my bio,

I wanted an escape.

What I found through every single place was people who had similar stories and wanted to make connections around death.

I remember being in China and I was with a friend of my sister's who's also a friend of mine.

She was like,

What has this first year been like for you?

I remember saying,

I wish we could all just learn how to have a dialogue around death.

She goes,

Huh,

Death dialogue.

That's kind of where the name came.

I was like,

Yeah,

This is what I want to do.

This is what I want to talk about.

It took a while to get started,

But it started early on with just this frustration of no one wanting to talk about it,

No one knowing how to interact around me,

People being really shy or offensive or just not showing up at all.

I was really vocal about the offensive things that people would say.

I think it created this element of fear around me where people wouldn't want to interact because they were afraid that they would say something wrong and then I'd call them out.

It just kind of developed from there.

It started from being really frustrated and then moving on to realizing that this is a conversation that people don't know how to have and I can be a part of that.

What is death dialogue?

For somebody who's never heard of it before or is new to your project,

What is it?

Death dialogue is a place to talk about death and dying in a world that often doesn't.

There's this whole underlying thing with death dialogue around permission,

That you have permission to be human.

In many ways,

It's a mission and I'm still developing what it is because it's so many different things.

I was talking to someone a couple of weeks ago who I hadn't seen for two years.

They were like,

Oh yeah,

It's a blog.

I was like,

Oh no.

We haven't connected in a while.

It is not a blog.

A blog is part of it.

I write on there.

I feature other people writing about death and dying on there.

I am doing a project right now called Conversations I Wish I Had where I haul around a pop-up telephone booth and ask people to step in and have a conversation with someone in their life who died.

I have a booklet coming out soon called Hard Stories Matter.

It's all about how we can live our lives sharing our hard stories.

When someone says,

How are you?

We don't have to say fine.

We can say things aren't well.

Do you have a second for me to talk to you about it?

I'm working on a podcast for Conversations I Wish I Had.

People step in the phone booth and they have the option to record.

This summer,

I'm going to Sweden to develop another podcast called Dialogue,

Which is more of an investigative look on death and dying.

In May,

I do something called a different kind of Mother's Day where I connect people who have lost a mom with mothers who have lost kids and they call each other on Mother's Day.

It's a mission.

It's a blog.

It's interactive.

It's kind of multi-medial and dimensional.

Yes,

And it seems like the concept of death dialogue is this giant umbrella.

Oh my gosh,

Congratulations for all of those projects in development and for the ones that have already been birthed out into the world.

That is absolutely huge.

Thank you.

Yeah,

A big element of it was just kind of just doing it,

Right?

For a different kind of Mother's Day,

I thought of the idea three weeks before Mother's Day and there was a moment of,

Well,

I should just do it next year.

And then I was like,

Well,

Even if only 10 people sign up,

That's good enough for me.

So then I just quickly made a website and put it out on a bunch of channels.

And it happened.

And that day,

It felt so good to sit at my email.

I wasn't at my computer all day.

I was spending time with my family,

But to check my email and have emails from people being like,

Whoa,

I didn't know I needed that.

I didn't know how important it was for me to connect with someone who understands a little bit of what I'm going through on Mother's Day.

And that was the point of the whole project.

I've got chills listening to that and I'm like tearing up a little bit because there's always like this,

Whenever a loss like this happens and the day rolls around,

It's like,

Well,

Now what do I do?

Even if you didn't really do a lot in the first place,

Even if it wasn't like a big major holiday,

Because my mom,

Pretty much once my sister and I moved out or went to college,

She was like,

Mother's Day,

Take it or leave it.

Like a phone call would be nice,

But we called on Sundays anyway.

So like it wasn't this big puffed up holiday.

But the first Mother's Day after I lost her,

I was like,

Oh my gosh,

Now what do I do?

It was this whole thing.

I didn't even know that I needed to do something.

And apparently now I feel like I need to do something.

And that's just phenomenal.

And even that mentality of it doesn't have to be big in order to start because everybody has lost someone,

Something.

And to be able to connect them in that way,

That's so powerful.

I kind of want to rewind a second and touch on something that you've mentioned a couple times and that's like the role of frustration in the grief process.

And I want to talk about like what being frustrated means to you,

Like what that feels like in your body and how,

Like what the process is for you of taking frustration and making something out of it because it seems like a very productive emotion for you clearly because all of this has sprung from,

I'm just so frustrated with how this works.

Yeah,

I think it's this frustration and being pissed but not angry.

I don't really think of myself as an angry person.

In the beginning of my grief process,

I definitely did.

I was pissed and angry.

And now it's more of this just,

I'm pissed that people aren't talking about it.

I'm pissed that people don't know how to talk about it.

I'm pissed that people don't have the resources for it.

And I could be pissed and just rage at the world and put my hands up and be like,

Why don't people.

.

.

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