How do you do a funeral?
I am at a stage in my life where many of my friends’ parents are in declining health or are dying. It is a major topic of conversation among us. My parents both died several years ago, so I have started calling myself a professional orphan. Not only do I have the training and experience that comes with ministry, but I have many hours and pages worth of stories and learning about legal matters and healthcare systems—as well as complicated family relationships.
I was having one of these conversations with some dear friends over a gorgeous steak dinner on Friday night, discussing in particular the emotional toll all of this takes. My friend suddenly turned to me and asked, “How do you do a funeral?”
“How do you mean?” I asked. “Like, funeral planning? The step-by-step process?”
“No,” she said. “I mean emotionally. How do you manage your emotions while you are doing a funeral?”
It was an intriguing question, one I have never really thought about. I have presided at hundreds of funerals and assisted at many more. For me, funerals are all about the people who are grieving, not even the person who has died. What do they need to get through these days and start the grieving process?
My aunt died a couple of weeks ago and she insisted she did not want any public service. However. Her children and grandchildren not only wanted a time of prayer and celebrating her life, they needed to gather with friends and family in order to receive their support. I am really proud of my cousins for being open about their own grief, and also very grateful I got to celebrate my aunt with them.
When planning a funeral, my priority is always about remaining present for the deceased’s family and loved ones. The funeral is not an end, but the beginning of a grieving process that will hopefully result in integrating their loss into their life ahead.
These days, with fewer families choosing to use funeral home services, I end up navigating a lot of the details with them. Where does one pick up cremated remains? How long does it take? How do you put a container without handles into a three foot hole without dropping it? My favourite is telling family members how to scatter ashes without getting them all over themselves (Back to the wind, close to the ground).
Emotionally, staying present with the family means practicing empathy by connecting with them and planning at their pace. I listen to stories and help navigate conversations about what “should” be done. That’s the hard work. When I get word of a death, everything stops. I make myself available and reschedule things as I need to because I know I’ll need my own time to process the emotions I am absorbing. I can cancel a meeting but not my workout if I am going to remain present when I need to.
The funerals I led in the months after each of my parents died were the hardest. Each one took me right back to their deaths, and I had to work harder to remain present. Now, years later, it is a gift I can give to adult children to say, “I’ve been here. I know how hard it is. We will get through this together. You aren’t alone.”
I think death forces us into a radical kind of presence. Death is undeniable. In spite of the awkward details, death is holy ground. Although my job requires a lot of details, I am at my best when I remember the Spirit (and maybe even spirits) are especially close at times of death, working in our hearts, drawing tears and even laughter. It is a time when the world seems to stop. She draws us into a kind of isolation where we learn anew about our loved ones and love itself.
