Happy Holidays

It's never a good time to lose a loved one. It's especially bad when someone close dies during the Holiday Season. The dilemma these families face during this very difficult time is whether or not they should celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas given the circumstances.

I get this question often during this time of year. Deep down, these folks know in their heart that their deceased loved one is in a better place, and that they would insist the survivors celebrate as they normally would. The problem of course is that it's hard to have a good time when your heart is ripped into pieces.

My advice is always the same. Gather the family together as you normally would and include the deceased person in the celebration. Set a place at the table where they normally would have sat. Share happy memories of past holidays you shared together. I've found through personal experience that as the years pass, this new tradition of sharing stories helps enrich the holiday experience.

I can remember the year my grandmother died. We were all very close to her, and when Thanksgiving rolled around, we were not in the mood to give thanks. Despite this fact, we got together, and it turned out well. We shared stories about past Thanksgivings. The tears and the laughter were incredible.

My favorite story is how seemingly every year, my grandmother ended up getting splattered with some sort of food item while sitting at the table. I'm not exagerating. She wore an apron because someone always spilled food in her general direction, and it never missed her. One year, I can vividly remember my father uncorking the champagne. Well, it was actually Asti Spumante which, the best I can tell, is Italian champagne. The cork sailed accross the table missing my brother's head by inches and the Asti cascaded like a fountain all over my grandmother.

Virtually every family has similar stories to tell. Although my grandmother is not sitting at the table any more, she is definitely with us every time we gather as a family. So if you're wondering whether or not to celebrate this Holiday Season, I say definitely. You'll never forget the experience, and more than likely, you'll establish a new family tradition that will make all holidays to follow even more special.

Aunty's Funeral

As a funeral director, I'm often approached by friends for advice on whether or not they should take their children to a funeral. The following is an email I sent to a friend in response to her question as to whether it was proper to take her four year old son to her aunt's funeral.

I think it's smart that you're taking your son to the funeral. It gives him an opportunity to experience death without emotional attachment, which doesn't really affect his life.

As I said before, explain to him what he can expect to see. The body lying in the casket, the people, etc. Tell him there may be some sad people because they loved her and they're going to miss her. If he asks why they'll miss her, tell him because her body is dead, and her spirit went to Heaven to be with God. Even though she is in a very good place, they will miss her.

If he asks about death, tell him death is when your body breaks, just like toys break, and your spirit goes to Heaven to be with God. Everyone has a spirit and when their body breaks, they don't need their body any more and their spirit goes to Heaven. Heaven is a wonderful place.

Just answer his questions. You don't need to volunteer information. He will probably go as deep as he is capable of. Don't be afraid to say you don't know if you don't know, or you think it's something that would disturb him.

Bring some coloring books and stuff to keep him occupied. If he doesn't want to go in and see her, that's OK. Just ask the funeral director if there's a place to take him where he can color etc.

Now, I feel that it is helpful to expose children to death at an early age. Children fear what they don't know. By keeping them away, they assume that whatever funerals are, they must be bad if Mommy and Daddy are keeping them away. However, it is always best to give your child the option of whether or not to attend a funeral. Forcing a child to view a dead body is just as bad if not worse than preventing them from seeing it.

I was 11 years old when my grandfather died. My parents did not let me go to the funeral. I was only allowed to attend the church service. Thirty-five years later, I'm still sorry I missed seeing him one last time, especially since he died unexpectedly.

Death is an inevitable part of life. Funerals are our way to grieve the dead as a community. Children are beloved members of our family, and they need an opportunity to grieve as well.

Emotionally Involved

I started this post back in September, but I couldn't think of a good ending, so I left it unfinished and didn't post it. I'm really not that thrilled with the way I ended it, but even after three months, the perfect conclusion eludes me, so I ended abruptly. It made me think that sometimes, whether with a story or in life, a good ending just isn't meant to be, but even a bad ending is better than none at all.

Yesterday morning I buried a woman I have known my entire life. I was just talking to her a week or so ago. Every time I saw her in recent years, she always said I was going to take care of her when she died. I had a hard time dealing with that thought intellectually, because losing someone you've know your entire life doesn't seem real. Now it does.

She was 89 years old, which means she was about my age when I first met her as a very young boy. Her and her husband lived right next door along with their two daughters, who are about 13-15 years older than me, so they were not around very long before they went to college, and it has been many years since I've seen them.

The girls came in to make the funeral arrangements. We talked about their mom for quite a while. It was difficult switching between the grieving friend and funeral director roles, but I somehow got through it. When they left, they both gave me a big tearful hug and said they were grateful to be among friends.

It just so happens that many of her relatives, nieces, nephews, bothers, etc., lived in our neighborhood as well, so I know the whole extended family very well. It was both a wonderful and sad experience at the same time.

Situational Awareness

After days of preparation and coordination, the morning of the funeral is "Gametime" for the funeral director. It isn't Hollywood where the director can say "Cut" and start over. You only get one shot to get it right.

There are so many variables to manage and direct that absolute situational awareness is a must. At any given time, there are family members, pall bearers, clergy, workers and caskets to direct to the correct place at the exact time they need to be there. Getting a fifty car funeral 35 miles through unknown traffic conditions to be standing at the back of the church at exactly the time the mass is supposed to start is a task of monumental proportions, yet the vast majority of funeral directos routinely pull it off without a hitch.

I think I made my point that a funeral director needs to be intimately aware of the surroundings to be successful. That being said, this example of complete and utter lack of situational awareness I witnessed and am about to share should astonish you.

I was sitting in a church on a beautiful Saturday morning about to witness one of my dearest friends marry his girlfriend of fourteen years. It was ten minutes before the ceremony. People were being escorted down to their seats. The Best Man was taking his place at the alter with the Groom about to appear. Anyone over the age of seven born on this planet would have known a wedding was about to commence.

That is, everyone but, I'm embarrased to say, a funeral director. At first, I was too stunned to comprehend the situation. I thought to myself, "That's odd, why would a florest bring the flowers ten minutes before a wedding starts." Besides, there are already flowers on the alter, and this piece the guy is placing RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE ALTER doesn't match the rest. What I didn't know at the time was that this particular floral arrangement had a ribbon placed neatly on the front that bore the words "Father/Uncle". The music soon started and I thought nothing of the flowers until after the mass.

After the beautiful and emotional ceremony, as I made my way out of the church, I noticed a funeral director I know standing in the vestibule right next to the guy who placed the flowers RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE ALTER ten minutes before the wedding started. Evidently, someone's Father/Uncle was about to be buried from this church in about thirty minutes. The guy was just doing what he was told, and didn't realize the wedding was first. I guess the two photographers flashing cameras, five groomsmen in tuxedos and several hundred people were not enough of a clue. For all I know, that might be standard for funerals in that part of the state.

I've often heard the cliche that, for the groom, the wedding ceremony is essentially his funeral. I guess this particular director took the joke literally.

It's Not My Grandfather's Profession Any More

Modern technology has infiltrated into all aspects of our lives. There is no escaping it. I know that my grandfather, who died in 1974, would not have dreamed of even this computer I am using to write this article.

I've been around funeral service for most of my life, and have been a funeral director for a little over thirteen years. Consequently, I've witnessed the changes. From the cookie cutter funerals of twenty years ago, to the streaming online videos of the services today, the profession has come a long way.

Although I am not a true believer that all of the technology currently being utilized by funeral professionals is legitimate, it was in fact a technological innovation that finally brought me into my family's business.

Cell phones.

Growing up, I remember my grandmother and grandfather always having to be by the phone. I guess even back then, people didn't limit their dying to normal business hours. I could not imagine having to live my life like that. As a result, funeral director was never a thought for me, so I joined the Air Force.

When cell phones came around in the early nineties, I finally reconsidered and came home. I have not been disappointed. As anyone who relies on cellular communications to make their living will tell you, they are a blessing as well as a curse. The same could be said for most of these new innovations.

Another miracle of technology that actually saved me from extreme embarrassment is Google Maps. A month or so ago, I had a funeral at a church in Taunton, MA, which is about thirty miles away. Just as my grandfather would have done with an unfamiliar church, I took a ride by and devised my plan for getting cars in and out. Easy, right?

The morning of the funeral, I discovered that the St. Andrew the Apostle Church I scouted out had consolidated with another church at a different location. Seeing that the people at the church didn't give me that little tidbit of information when I arranged the mass, and we had to leave the funeral home in about twenty minutes, I turned to Google Maps.

Crisis averted. Within five minutes, I had the route to drive as well as a satellite view of the church to plan the ingress and egress. Done. My grandfather would have been screwed.

Some of the new innovations are nice as enhancements to the services. Online Guest Books are helpful to receive condolences from people who live out of state. Unfortunately, they are also being used by the next door neighbor in lieu of going to the wake. Convenient, but there is no substitute for face-to-face.

Overall, I think my grandfather would have approved of some of the new technologies such as Life Tribute Videos as well as some of the personalization options available. Even so, I can picture him telling me not to let all of these new toys get in the way of what a funeral is supposed to be. He would said, "A funeral is a time for the community to gather together to grieve the loss of one of their own, and to celebrate that life in order to help the family and friends left behind work through the pain."

Pa, I couldn't agree with you more.

Mother's Day

I picked up the newspaper this morning and turned to the obituary section as I normally do. Being that today is Mother's Day, there were two pages of "In Memoriam Mother's Day Tributes". These small memorials consist of a picture and a short verse, usually a poem, written by the children of the deceased mom.

As a funeral director, I spend a good portion of my time sitting across the table from bereaved families trying to deal with the loss of their mother or father. Almost without exception, the death of the mother is harder to take. There is something about the love we receive from our mothers binds their hearts to ours in a way that is different than our fathers.

In our busy lives, it's easy for us to forget to call our mother and tell her that we love her and appreciate all she's done for us, and it is even harder to find the time to go and see her. Mother's Day is the perfect excuse to put our other distractions on hold and spend some quality time with mom.

Believe me, an hour or so spent with mom today either in person or on the phone means far more to her than a small ad in the paper after she is gone.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. I love you.

The Eulogy

Eulogies are very hit or miss. They are either very good or very bad. I can't tell you how many bad ones I've sat through over the years. In my opinion, a bad eulogy is one that is all about the person doing the eulogizing and not the deceased. More often than not, that's how they go. Another category of bad eulogies are what I refer to as the "Meatball Eulogy". As you can imagine, a "Meatball Eulogy" revolves around what a good cook the person was, and how they made the best meatballs. I'm not kidding. A good 50% of all eulogies I've heard center on the making of meatballs.

A good eulogy is like finding a diamond in the rough. Every now and then, a person perfectly captures the essence of their departed loved one in a profound and loving way. It's about the love they shared and the lessons they taught that made the lives of others richer, and the world they lived in better. It's hard to do, believe me, but when it's done correctly, it's inspiring.

I heard such a eulogy this morning. It started off a little rough, but it built into a wonderful testament to a life well-lived. As I sat there, I couldn't help but think that if my daughter could say about me the things this woman said about her father, I would have truly lived a good and blessed life.

I've got a lot of work to do.