There are conversations about gatekeeping death, family roles, sea glass, Costco sweatshirts, NPR, birthday piñatas, and what it means to love someone while slowly letting them go. Through exhaustion and tenderness, Kristen reflects on the strange in-between space of vigil keeping — where ordinary life continues even as death waits quietly in the next room.

Blending real-time recordings with reflections on caregiving, control, inherited trauma, and the absurdity of end-of-life logistics, this episode captures the suspended feeling of a family gathered at the threshold—where exhaustion, love, resentment, laughter, and fear all exist in the same room.

The first episode of a new mini-series within Death Virgin.

Kristen records from her childhood home on the coast of Maine as her father lies dying on hospice care in the next room. Over the course of one sleepless night, she reflects on what it means to accompany someone through death for the very first time — while also navigating hospital logistics, oxygen tanks, weed gummies, family dynamics, spiders, ocean sounds, assisted living rituals, and the strange absurdity that continues alongside dying.

Part vigil diary, part field recording, part dark comedy, this first dispatch captures the liminal hours before bringing her father home from the hospital to die overlooking Penobscot Bay.

A series about grief in real time.

About becoming “no longer a death virgin.”

About how death is both sacred and deeply, relentlessly human.

What begins as a routine surgery (everyone says it’s routine) becomes something stranger: a meditation on ownership, body parts, family legacy, and what it means when a piece of you that grew with you is suddenly removed.

Before going under anesthesia, Kristen asks the question most surgeons are not prepared for:

Can I keep the bone?

From there, she wanders — lovingly and irreverently — through medical authority, arrogant surgeons, grandmother pranks, Harvard Medical School cadavers, the mysterious Jewish “Luz bone” of resurrection, and the strange grief of losing a tooth in your twenties.

This episode explores:

1. Why “common” surgery doesn’t mean minor
2. What belongs to us once it’s cut out of us
3. The power dynamics between doctors and patients
4. Why second opinions should be normalized
5. The family story of Grandma Mary, told she would never walk again — and walking anyway
6. Donating bodies to science (and what happens after)
7. The religious argument against cremation and the almond-shaped “Luz bone”
8. Why birth and death are both messier than we like to admit
9. Mourning body parts — teeth, breasts, bones — as small rehearsals for larger loss
10. Whether cremation tidies death… or just disguises it

Kristen also confronts the hypocrisy of creating end-of-life workbooks for others while having no will herself — realizing, the night before surgery, that she has not practiced what she preaches.

Because maybe death practice doesn’t only happen at funerals.

Maybe it happens in operating rooms.

Maybe it happens when your body changes.

Maybe it happens when you realize you are not, in fact, twenty anymore.

There is pumpkin pie.

There is Beyoncé.

There is The Big Lebowski.

There are bones — some kept, some donated, some pulverized.

And there is humor. Always humor.

Because sometimes the only way to talk about taboo things

is to talk about them sideways.

Referenced & Recommended:

Harvard Medical School Body Donation Program

Rabbinic literature on the “Luz” bone

Ecclesiastes (interpretations of resurrection texts)

The Naked Ape by Desmond Morris

The Big Lebowski (the Folgers canister scene)

Pretty Woman (big mistake. Big. Huge.)

The Little Engine That Could

Beyoncé — “Sorry” (Becky with the good hair)

The obituary of Doris McClintock (1939–2025) is funny, specific, political, tender, stubborn, and alive with detail: pine boxes, black bears, arthritis, grudges, gardens, community, and the refusal to romanticize old age or death. From there, Kristen wanders—lovingly—through pumpkin pie, Yankees, Thanksgiving rules, avoidance strategies, and the long, strange history of obituaries themselves.

This episode explores:

1. How obituaries evolved from elite death notices to public mourning texts
2. Who gets remembered in the historical record—and who gets erased
3. Why euphemisms for death may soften truth rather than honor it
4. Susan Sontag, silence, moral control, and why smoothing edges can do harm
5. Obituaries as political documents, especially for marginalized lives
6. The ethics of writing your own obituary (and whether anyone has to tell the truth for you)
7. Humor as a survival tool when talking about death
8. Why writing your own obituary might not be about closure—but permission

Kristen also introduces a new Death Virgin obituary-writing exercise, including a Mad Lib–style worksheet designed not as a “final draft,” but as a playful, revealing warm-up—something to do alone, or better yet, with others.

Because maybe an obituary isn’t meant to close the book.

Maybe it’s meant to leave it cracked open.

Referenced & Recommended:

1. OBIT (dir. Vanessa Gould)
2. The Deadbeat by Marilyn Johnson
3. Susan Sontag on language, illness, and moral control
4. Merle Haggard, E.B. White, Monty Python, Eminem (yes, really)

Content note: This episode references death, illness, murder, and contemporary violence.

Rest in peace, Doris McClintock.

In this episode, Kristen talks about her own second-hand experiences when she found herself living in Manhattan when the Twin Towers were hit, the concepts of private vs. communal grief, and why we all feel compelled to share "I was there ..." when a tragedy (or notable celebration or event) occurs.

Rounded out with stories of the United States Film Festival, a cross country move in a Mercury Sable, and a fortuitous tennis match, this episode features lots of gushing about the arguably world's best and most handsome guy and how much we all loved him. 

She begins with the Black Death in the 14th century, describing its devastating impact and the rise of the Dance Macabre. Kristen touches on the modern parallels to the COVID-19 pandemic and the importance of empathy and travel in understanding different cultures.

She also discusses Victorian mourning practices, including the creation of memento mori and the elaborate rituals of the era.

Moving on to North America, she reflects on the Puritans and Pilgrims and cites the influence of popular culture and educational cartoons on our understanding of historical events.

Kristen concludes with a call to reimagine how we educate about death, proposing animated, musical content similar to Schoolhouse Rock to tackle taboos and teach both children and adults about death in an engaging way.

She reflects on her childhood memories, societal taboos around discussing death, and how horror movies can serve as a therapeutic medium for dealing with grief.

From humorous anecdotes about failed horror movie titles to the ritualistic burial of her first pet, Kristen navigates a wide range of experiences and thoughts, ultimately advocating for more open conversations about death.

She discusses her views on mourning culture online, sharing personal anecdotes and observations about how people use social media to cope with loss. Vermilyea reflects on the emotional complexities of seeing Facebook pages of deceased friends and questions why public expressions of grief seem necessary. 

Interspersed with humor and tangential stories, Vermilyea also explores how social media serves as a modern-day Town Crier, announcing deaths and allowing shared communal mourning. 

This episode encourages listeners to reflect on their own digital interactions with death and considers the broader implications of our online lives.

Kristen explains how she has not yet lost anyone super close to her* - a rarity at her age, making her feel underprepared for the inevitable loss of a loved one.

She discusses her documentary film 'Death Virgin,' her curiosity about death, past experiences, and her decision to become a death doula.

Kristen also reminisces about her past in Catholic school, relationships, and various memories connected to death and funerals. The episode is a blend of humor, personal anecdotes, and reflections on life and death, aiming to open up conversations about a typically taboo subject.

*Yes, I’ve lost all my grandparents and several aunts and uncles. (We are not a terribly close family.) I’ve thought a lot about how I define “super close” when it comes to people in my life and how that definition might be different when dealing with their deaths. Does it have to be an immediate family member? A blood relative? A best friend? Someone I see or talk to daily / often? I don’t know, but I’m thinking about it and will explore it in the podcast.