Hey, Boliver. Thanks for inviting me to read your journal. I had to be Neighbors33 here ;-)
First of all, thanks for sharing your story. My grandma is 91, and when I was far away from her on the West Coast, I lived in fear of her death; now that I'm closer to home, I feel like I'm more prepared for it. Still scared, but more ready for it. I think I might end up like the overwhelmed cousin that breaks down in tears.
For some reason, and I swear there's a point to this at the end, your journal made me think about the last time my husband and I were at a funeral together. I was appalled at the open casket in the church and told Darrell that I didn't even want an open casket at my wake. He was appalled at that, and told me he thought it was an important way for people to say their goodbyes. Obviously, right there in the church was no time to thrash that issue out, but it did make me realize something kind of important. I guess I now believe that funerals are for the living. It won't matter what I want because I'll be gone.
However, what I see as the problem is when the needs and wishes of the all the living mourners aren't the same. In other words, as repulsive as the Preacher's words were for you, it seems like the chances are good that they were particularly inspiring to someone else there. Maybe some cousin or relative got some sort of strength from those words.
Maybe funerals need to have different things for different people. Is it possible to let it go as "meant for others" and focus on what was meaningful for you?
Oh, absolutely. I think I've already let it go; I just wanted to do a brain dump here and see what others thought about my train of thought at the time. I don't tend to hang onto stuff like that.
It's interesting that you mention the open casket thing, because a few years ago when my mother's father died (he was actually my mother uncle, because her biological dad died in Normandy during the invasion, and her mother then married her husband's brother, but he was always Grandpa to me and Daddy to my mom), there was an open casket funeral, and it was upsetting for me. I'm not into burial at all, and will be cremated, and having the funeral be open casket forced me to stare at a body that didn't actually contain my grandfather any more, thus giving me a memory of a strange-looking hollow shell that I didn't need in my brain. When my grandmother died, though, there was a viewing the night before, to allow the people who need the visual closure your husband talked about, but the funeral itself was closed casket, which seemed to be a nice middle ground.
While the funeral is for the living for the most part, our wishes, I think, play a part; it helps to let the person go if we act as we think they would want us to act in their honor, because then it means we carry them with us inside our hearts, and, in that way, they'll never be truly gone.
Also, we do a lot of estate planning in our office, and helping the client express their wishes for medical and death issues is a large part of that, so that the people left behind don't have to make that decision on their own, because the wishes are right there on paper.
And a community service announcement for everyone: if you don't have a will or trust, suck it up and go to an attorney, especially if you have kids or own a house. Where you want your kids to go, or who gets to make medical decisions for you (if your spouse died with you) is REALLY important to have in writing. Obviously, laws vary form state to state, so a trust might not be necessary, but that's what the atty is for.
First of all, thanks for sharing your story. My grandma is 91, and when I was far away from her on the West Coast, I lived in fear of her death; now that I'm closer to home, I feel like I'm more prepared for it. Still scared, but more ready for it. I think I might end up like the overwhelmed cousin that breaks down in tears.
For some reason, and I swear there's a point to this at the end, your journal made me think about the last time my husband and I were at a funeral together. I was appalled at the open casket in the church and told Darrell that I didn't even want an open casket at my wake. He was appalled at that, and told me he thought it was an important way for people to say their goodbyes. Obviously, right there in the church was no time to thrash that issue out, but it did make me realize something kind of important. I guess I now believe that funerals are for the living. It won't matter what I want because I'll be gone.
However, what I see as the problem is when the needs and wishes of the all the living mourners aren't the same. In other words, as repulsive as the Preacher's words were for you, it seems like the chances are good that they were particularly inspiring to someone else there. Maybe some cousin or relative got some sort of strength from those words.
Maybe funerals need to have different things for different people. Is it possible to let it go as "meant for others" and focus on what was meaningful for you?
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It's interesting that you mention the open casket thing, because a few years ago when my mother's father died (he was actually my mother uncle, because her biological dad died in Normandy during the invasion, and her mother then married her husband's brother, but he was always Grandpa to me and Daddy to my mom), there was an open casket funeral, and it was upsetting for me. I'm not into burial at all, and will be cremated, and having the funeral be open casket forced me to stare at a body that didn't actually contain my grandfather any more, thus giving me a memory of a strange-looking hollow shell that I didn't need in my brain. When my grandmother died, though, there was a viewing the night before, to allow the people who need the visual closure your husband talked about, but the funeral itself was closed casket, which seemed to be a nice middle ground.
While the funeral is for the living for the most part, our wishes, I think, play a part; it helps to let the person go if we act as we think they would want us to act in their honor, because then it means we carry them with us inside our hearts, and, in that way, they'll never be truly gone.
Also, we do a lot of estate planning in our office, and helping the client express their wishes for medical and death issues is a large part of that, so that the people left behind don't have to make that decision on their own, because the wishes are right there on paper.
And a community service announcement for everyone: if you don't have a will or trust, suck it up and go to an attorney, especially if you have kids or own a house. Where you want your kids to go, or who gets to make medical decisions for you (if your spouse died with you) is REALLY important to have in writing. Obviously, laws vary form state to state, so a trust might not be necessary, but that's what the atty is for.
Reply
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