Death sucks
I’ve decided I don’t want to die. In fact, I don’t want to suffer either. Yeah, I know, that’s a pipe dream, and yeah, I know, as followers of Christ we are supposed to expect suffering, and yeah, I know, as heirs to the kingdom, death is not the end of the story for us. But you know what, I’m just not feeling it right now. I’m not in that good-Christian vibe right now, and frankly, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to get old, and I don’t want my body and mind to fall to pieces over the years.
Funny what going to a funeral will do to you.
My wife’s grandmother didn’t make it through her aneurysm surgery, and died in the recovery room. That was about 3 weeks ago now, and this past weekend we went out to New Jersey for the funeral service. Actually, I guess technically it was a memorial service, not a funeral, since she was cremated.
I’ve decided I prefer funerals.
I never felt close to her, even though we had talked on many occasions, and I married her oldest grand-child. In fact, now that I think about it, I always felt like it was hard to get close to her, since she was always asking me so many questions. I don’t remember ever getting many opportunities to ask her anything. Too late for that now.
Why are funerals better? Because there is a coffin, which you know contains a body, the body of the person that has died, and psychologically there is something important about seeing the person after they have died, or at least knowing that the silver box with all the flowers contains that person. There can be no illusions that they are “away on vacation” or that somehow they might show up at any moment and ask you what all the fuss is about. A dead body is unequivocal, un-debatable, horrible, and final.
I am not talking theology here. I don’t really care what you may or may not believe about the after-life, but rituals surrounding death are pretty important, and I like the Western tradition of a funeral service and a coffin.
At least, that works for me. Maybe you would prefer to be cremated? I do kind of like the idea of a funeral pyre, like the one Luke makes for Darth Vader in Return of the Jedi. But the point there is the same – those left behind can see the dead person. In most cremations that’s just not the case. My wife’s grandmother was literally here one day and completely gone the next.
The memorial service was ok. She was a Unitarian, and as such the service avoided any kind of traditional hymns or doctrinal statements of faith or belief. But, there was a huge outpouring of memories from many, many people whose lives had been touched by my wife’s grandmother. The memories were amazing. She had touched many people with acts of kindness and generosity. A great reminder for me, for anyone, to think about the kind of legacy I want to leave behind.
Her ashes were tossed into a hole in the ground by the creek at their house in an unceremonious, informal bizarre way. 2 pounds of ashes. A whole life reduced to a plastic Ziploc bag holding grey-white ashes. Some went in the hole, some flew up in the air. The family members nearest to the hole had to stand back to avoid the ashes blowing in their face.
We left the ash-shedding service early and went back inside with the kids. A giant hawk or eagle appeared out of nowhere and circled 4 times over the group, drifting on a warm pocket of air before flying off over the house. The eagle wasn’t her spirit, it wasn’t her life force, she wasn’t reincarnated. The eagle was just an eagle. But maybe God sent that bird to remind me of his power over everything. Or maybe it was just a bird curious to see what was going on.
Funny what going to a funeral will do to you.
My wife’s grandmother didn’t make it through her aneurysm surgery, and died in the recovery room. That was about 3 weeks ago now, and this past weekend we went out to New Jersey for the funeral service. Actually, I guess technically it was a memorial service, not a funeral, since she was cremated.
I’ve decided I prefer funerals.
I never felt close to her, even though we had talked on many occasions, and I married her oldest grand-child. In fact, now that I think about it, I always felt like it was hard to get close to her, since she was always asking me so many questions. I don’t remember ever getting many opportunities to ask her anything. Too late for that now.
Why are funerals better? Because there is a coffin, which you know contains a body, the body of the person that has died, and psychologically there is something important about seeing the person after they have died, or at least knowing that the silver box with all the flowers contains that person. There can be no illusions that they are “away on vacation” or that somehow they might show up at any moment and ask you what all the fuss is about. A dead body is unequivocal, un-debatable, horrible, and final.
I am not talking theology here. I don’t really care what you may or may not believe about the after-life, but rituals surrounding death are pretty important, and I like the Western tradition of a funeral service and a coffin.
At least, that works for me. Maybe you would prefer to be cremated? I do kind of like the idea of a funeral pyre, like the one Luke makes for Darth Vader in Return of the Jedi. But the point there is the same – those left behind can see the dead person. In most cremations that’s just not the case. My wife’s grandmother was literally here one day and completely gone the next.
The memorial service was ok. She was a Unitarian, and as such the service avoided any kind of traditional hymns or doctrinal statements of faith or belief. But, there was a huge outpouring of memories from many, many people whose lives had been touched by my wife’s grandmother. The memories were amazing. She had touched many people with acts of kindness and generosity. A great reminder for me, for anyone, to think about the kind of legacy I want to leave behind.
Her ashes were tossed into a hole in the ground by the creek at their house in an unceremonious, informal bizarre way. 2 pounds of ashes. A whole life reduced to a plastic Ziploc bag holding grey-white ashes. Some went in the hole, some flew up in the air. The family members nearest to the hole had to stand back to avoid the ashes blowing in their face.
We left the ash-shedding service early and went back inside with the kids. A giant hawk or eagle appeared out of nowhere and circled 4 times over the group, drifting on a warm pocket of air before flying off over the house. The eagle wasn’t her spirit, it wasn’t her life force, she wasn’t reincarnated. The eagle was just an eagle. But maybe God sent that bird to remind me of his power over everything. Or maybe it was just a bird curious to see what was going on.
posted by Jonathan Ziman at
2:33 PM
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2 comments
