I haven’t been to a funeral in 20 years. When I was a child, funerals were a big deal. Once I hit my teens, I only went to a couple. As an adult, I remember going to 3 – for my wife’s father, her aunt and her cousin.
- When my stepdaughter died, we opted out of a funeral and had a memorial/shiva day at our home. Because it was during spring break and she (and my wife) were popular, we had hundreds of people visit that day and over the weekend.
- When my wife died, I didn’t have a funeral or a burial ceremony. She didn’t want one. I was in no condition to plan one. We had very few friends locally and were not religious. It wasn’t until two years later, that I finally knew what to do with her ashes.
I used to say that I didn’t like funerals. I believe that funeral homes and cemeteries prey on grieving family members. They overcharge for services, plots, add-ons, caskets, etc. It’s a total scam.
But I believe there’s a place for ceremonies that mark a person’s life and death.
I remember attending funerals as a child. My extended family members would come to the funeral home from small towns all over the region. We were all Catholic, working class and Irish. We’d pack into my Aunt’s house and my Grandmother’s house like it was a holiday.
Then we’d attend three nights of services – the Viewing, the Wake, and the Funeral. As a child, I couldn’t tell the difference between the Viewing and the Wake. At both, we’d sit in our dress clothes in the funeral home while people from all over would come visit to pay their their respects. Many of my family members were drunk. They’d be smoking and arguing with each other. Eventually, after dark everyone would take off to the local bar to continue drinking.
I remember my one young aunt going into hysterics at my Grandma’s wake. She was screaming and wailing as she climbed on top of the body in the casket and tried to pry the wedding ring from her mother’s finger as her siblings tried to pull her back. Then the fighting escalating.
An elderly friend of my Grandmother grabbed me and said, “Let’s get out of here.” She took me to Rita’s Lunch – a diner across the street that I had never been to before but dreamt of going to my entire 5 year life because it smelled of grease and hamburgers. It was one of my all time favorite funeral experiences. I ate a hamburger and home fries.
The Funeral part was the worst. We had to go to church for a special, extra boring session! I hated church and the though too having to go twice in one week was torture. Then we’d all drive in procession to the cemetery. That was fun because we got to drive in a long line of cars through all the red lights.
At the cemetery, we’d all walk super slowly and then stand around the grave while the priest mumbled a bunch of boring stuff in a 3rd mini-church session before they finally lowered the casket into the hole.
Then we’d all leave and go to a party.
The party was awesome. It was always in some rented hall. We had an open board, a smorgasbord of food and everyone would get drunk.
I loved to eat and loved to drink soda at the bar so I enjoyed these parties. It was pretty much exactly like a wedding reception in my 5 year old mind.
When my wife’s father died, we sat Shiva for 3 days. For us, that meant we sat in a house while friends and family visited with food, offered condolences and shared memories nearby nonstop. It was overwhelming. And yet, it was comforting to see her father recognized and for the families grief to be acknowledged.
The same thing happened when my stepdaughter died.
When my wife died, there was nothing. I received many letters, emails, texts and a few calls. But in retrospect, I think having no ceremony was sad.
It wouldn’t have brought closure, but it would have made me feel better to see her life recognized and acknowledged.
Funerals aren’t for the dead. They are for the living. They are for those of us who mourn. Regardless of how I feel about the cost of them, I have no plans to skip any of them in the future.