All good things must come to an end
I attended two funerals, or celebrations of life, on the same day recently. It is a sign of my age, I think, attending two in one day. More and more people that I have loved are no longer with us.
This led me to the thought process of how temporary life is. We are here, and then we are not here. We can only hope that in the space in between, that we have made a difference in some way — that our life mattered.
I have often thought that those who have the most people at their memorial service wins. I still believe that to some degree. How many people did you know? How many people did you impact? How many people will actually miss you? Did you do what you could for others? Did you make a difference in some way for your community, for the planet? Did you help those in need? Did you live a life that mattered?
I also have a very strong bias toward having a service. I have known people who have passed away and there was not a service for them at all. Sometimes it is due to particular circumstances and tragedy. However, special circumstances aside, I have also heard people say “he/she did not want one”. Hmmmm, well that person is not here anymore, and is it really for them? Or is it for the people left behind, for closure? I believe that gathering with others and sharing our grief and our experiences is important. A service is also important for honouring the person’s life. To me, if anyone existed on this planet for any length of time, they are worth remembering; worth honouring.
I have attended so many memorial services, that I really cannot count. From my own research, I can tell you how valuable these gatherings are on so many levels. There is the closure, as mentioned above. Also, the person’s contributions that they made while they were on the planet are highlighted. I find this aspect particularly rewarding as it seems that no matter how well I knew someone, after they are gone I learn even more about them at their service. There are always others who knew that individual in a different way, in a different context. Hearing people tell their stories is a special way to continue to learn about someone, even after they are gone.
Funerals and weddings are known as events where you are together with a whole bunch of people that you don’t normally see very often. This can be very rich. At one of the recent services, I was reunited with a work group from many years prior. We decided at the funeral that we had all missed one another, and would like to meet up again. This follow-up gathering proved to be extremely rewarding, life-giving, and truly honouring to our boss who had passed. It was also honouring to our lived experiences beyond our beginnings as our original work team. This would not have occurred if the service hadn’t happened.
Another bias I have, which has been hotly debated, is the notion of an open casket. Believe me, there are a myriad of opinions about this. In some religious traditions, like the Catholic one I attended recently, it is a normal part of the process (pic above). However, mostly these days it is up to the individuals left behind to decide. My bias toward an open casket is that it is yet another layer of closure.
I remember my early experiences of an open casket. The first was a best friend from high school. He died the year after he graduated. Cancer. Although he looked more like an 80 year old than an 18 year old, it was somehow calming for me to see him not in pain any longer. The second open casket experience I had was my grandfather, the single most important person in my life. I was devastated when he died. Lucky for him, he passed suddenly in his sleep. Unlucky for me, as I was not prepared. However, when I went to the viewing and saw him lying there, he looked so peaceful and as beautiful as I always remembered him. It was also equally clear to me in that moment that it was not “him” . . . it was only his body. For whatever reason, this comforted me. I knew then that he was no longer here, and that his soul had gone somewhere else. Somewhere better.
For children, preparing them for an open casket can be important.
An argument that I have heard for not having an open casket, especially prior to cremation if that is their option, is people don’t want that to be their last memory of the person they loved. They want to remember them as they were, happy and alive. I guess I can see some wisdom in this, but it also isn’t reality. They are not here anymore, and from a psychological perspective, I believe helping the mind adjust to the new reality can be helpful in moving forward in the grief process. On a side note, the people who prepare the body for viewing do a great job! Of the few bodies I have seen, I am constantly amazed at how well they look. Not a profession for the faint of heart, but an important one for sure.
I took a few notes from the speeches that were made at the recent services I attended, and these particular comments stood out for me:
- what page will you take from their book, and put it in yours?
- she had a fierce commitment to help those in need
- he cared deeply about people and our community
- he lived a life that mattered
I also recently read a good article in my favourite newspaper, the Saturday edition of the Globe and Mail, and took a snap of some wisdom from those about to die:
It is not as if some people die, and some people don’t. We all do. We just don’t know when, and we don’t know how. So the important message, aside from deciding what type of service you might want to have, is what do you still want to do while you are here?
