By Sasha Kramer
It’s drizzling the morning of William’s burial and the forest, comprised of Hemlock, Beech, Pine and Oak, is glimmering with rain drops. The attendants are seated and standing underneath two white tents that overlook what will become Whistle Ridge’s first grave site. Michelle, with a subtle excitement in her voice, tells the burial attendants that next spring, William’s grave will be surrounded by Trillium. I’m reminded of one of Pat’s comments: “Everyone should go back to the earth, to the soil.”
Michelle is the co-owner of Life Forest Whistle Ridge. Whistle Ridge opened in May 2024. A conservation cemetery in Auburn, Maine, boasting 80 acres, Whistle Ridge exclusively offers families the ability to bury their loved one’s ashes among the trees. The idea behind Whistle Ridge is to memorialize the dead through nature. Each burial contributes to an eternal legacy of forest conservation. On July 23, 2024, William R. Harland (died in 1939) was buried as the first resident of the woodland burial ground some eighty-five years after he passed. William is the co-owner’s great-great grandfather.
Michelle and her mother, Pat, have been the custodians of William’s ashes since they received a letter from the Oregon State Hospital in 2016. The letter detailed that their family members was one of 3,500 sets of ashes that were long forgotten. “No one ever talked about him. I just did not know about his existence until I got this letter,” Pat told me when I sat down with her and her daughter Michelle the day before William’s burial.
William, who suffered from dementia, was sent to live out the rest of his days, like many others, at what was then called the Oregon Hospital for the Insane in Salem, Oregon. “He was a victim of the times,” Michelle explained. William’s ashes were placed in a copper canister and stored in a forgotten room on the hospital’s grounds. Years before the canisters were discovered, Salem flooded. A mixture of water, copper, and human ashes sparked a chemical reaction which marked all the canisters uniquely with splashes of radiant color and corroded designs.
Upon receiving her great grandfather’s remains, Pat was also provided William’s genealogy and medical records. Pat’s father had always been quiet about his own childhood, an aspect of her father that I sensed bothered Pat. “I mean, there was no family stories. Nothing.”
Born in England in 1862, William’s family emigrated to New York soon after his birth. By the 1920s, he and his son were living on the central coast of Oregon. He was a farmer, homeowner, and owned a poll hall. He panned for gold along the Rogue River in Oregon.
Learning about William’s life closed a lot of gaps for Pat: “All of a sudden, I got this image of my father on the Rogue River panning for gold with his grandfather.” William’s past sheds light on the intergenerational trauma both Pat and Michelle experienced. “There was a lot of abuse in the family, period. And William was a part of it,” Pat said. In agreement with her mother, Michelle explained this to me further: “When you discover that your great-great grandfather was institutionalized for mental health, it is kind of an aha moment. I wonder how that manifested. How was it passed down? What was the long-lasting damage?” Both Pat and Michelle told me they imagined the burial was going to provide them with a sense of closure and healing.
As I walk over to the tents, Pat showed me the beautiful wreath made from plants she found on the grounds of Life Forest Whistle Ridge, including goldenrod, ferns, thistle and pinecones.
After a short service, performed by Interfaith Minister and death doula Jessica Johansson, Michelle carries William’s ashes to his grave. The ashes are wrapped in a piece of white wool cloth and are tied together with a red ribbon and purple flowers. Maidenhair ferns line the bottom of the hole.
Michelle, co-owner Chelsea, and Mel Bennett—the owner of Life Forest—fill in the burial hole with a small shovel. Pat walks over to the grave and sprinkles dried Sweet Annie flowers that settle atop the grave, like green pixie dust, along with the wreath she made, and a heart shaped rock. After the burial Michelle and her mom hug. Pat, with tears in her eyes, said to me she’s surprised she’s so emotional.
Pat told me that now that William is out of her possession, she likes the idea that she has a place to visit him. “It just feels right.”
“To say, now, somehow, finally, some descendant of his is providing him with a proper burial. He is being honored,” said Michelle. Pat chimed in: “Everyone should be.”
To protect the story and legacy of William R. Harland and all of those who will be buried at Whistle Ridge, the cemetery utilizes Life Forest’s scheme to ensure the cemetery’s land will be cared for and protected forever. The Whistle Ridge deed records the longitude and latitude of each plot as an amendment to deed, providing protection and access rights—under cemetery law—in perpetuity for families and their loved ones.
