Burial at Sea

CAUTION! Long, rambling story to follow!

The Backstory: My parents’ 50th anniversary was in October of this year. Nearly a year ago, they decided they wanted to do something special with the whole family to mark the occasion, so they very generously booked us all on a 3-night Bahamas cruise over Thanksgiving weekend. This includes me, my two brothers, our three wives, and my four nieces.

The thing is, though, Dad didn’t quite make it to the anniversary. In September, the liver cancer he’d been battling for seven years finally got him. As devastating as it was, Mom announced that the cruise was still on. In her words, “He’d kick our butts if we didn’t go.”

Of course, we missed Dad terribly, but it was wonderful nonetheless. The trip was orignally meant to be a celebration of family, and that it most assuredly was. We relished the time together (an increasingly infrequent occurrence with three of the girls in college now), shared memories of Dad/Grandpa, laughed a lot and cried a little.

We had brought Dad’s ashes along, with the idea to release them off the ship at some point, but we’d made no real plans and quickly realized it would be a pretty tough feat to pull off from any of the public areas on board. And it’s a no-no anyway. So my older brother (the smart one!) decided to ask for help. He went to the guest relations desk, and it turns out they have an official procedure to accomodate this request.

It was quite the educational experience. There are myriad rules and regulations surrounding the scattering of ashes at sea. It can be done only at certain times of day, at a certain distance from land, with the ship at a certain speed, and so on. At the designated time, we met with a concierge who, along with the ship’s environmental officer and a safety officer, escorted all eleven of us through a door marked “Crew Only.”

We were led through corridors of employee staterooms, through the officers’ mess hall, a break room, a storage area, down some stairs… finally out into a large area in the aft of the ship cluttered with excess equipment, coils of incredibly thick rope, some discarded decorations – all kinds of crap. Someone remarked that this would have been Dad’s favorite part of the whole trip; he loved boats and would have been thrilled to see the “backstage” areas.

The area was open to the outside but protected by a metal lattice-like structure through which we could feel the misty breeze. At the floor were several large holes, presumably to drain the deck in rough waters. We were directed to one of the holes (chosen by wind conditions) and told to proceed when ready. My brother said a few eloquent words and asked if anyone had anything to add. No one did, and I think we were all too choked up to speak anyway. Mom knelt at the hole and tipped over the urn, and we could just barely see Dad’s ashes flying off into the darkness.

We stayed there for what seemed like a long time, crying and hugging one another. When we’d regained our composure, the concierge led us back up to the main deck and thanked us on behalf of the crew for the honor of assisting us. The whole procedure could not have been more beautiful or moving. Upon departure Mom was presented with a certificate signed by the Captain and the officers involved, showing the exact longitude and latitude at which we’d laid Dad to rest.

So, in case you’ve ever wondered what a burial at sea is like, now you know. And Kudos to Royal Caribbean for making it happen.

That was beautiful. Thanks for writing it.

“Cool” isn’t the right word to describe your experience, but I’m not sure what is. I’m glad you were able to obtain official approval and assistance for the event and conduct it in a peaceful and timely manner, rather than having to carry it out secretly, furtively, anxiously.

Thanks for sharing your story.

Wow. Thanks for sharing that.

I’ve seen several of these over the years, having been in the Navy. The only difference with a Navy burial at sea is that family is generally not present. The deceased is also entitled to full military honors at their burial.

As a courtesy to the family, the burial is recorded and presented to them with the folded flag from the ceremony, the spent shells from the salute, and the certificate.

This is done with cremated remains - thankfully we haven’t had to do the WWII-style at-sea burials for many years.

I sorta understand Royal Caribbean not really publicizing the fact that they offer this, um, service for their customers (can you imagine the brochure?) so on behalf of the cause of fighting ignorance, thanks for letting us know how it’s done. I wouldn’t have though to ask, but it makes perfect sense that they’d record the lat/long., need to take the wind and shore into account, etc.

(The part about the concierge thanking you for the honor of assisting … that was when I lost it, by the way. Very moving of him to say that to you.)

Wow. Just Wow. I’m sorry for your loss, but what a beautiful story…

Wheelz, sorry for your loss and thank you so much for sharing that. I’m sure your Father was pleased.

I think Dad would have thought it was “cool” too, so I have no problem with calling it that.
We had an open-casket viewing before the cremation, which was nice as far as it went, but everybody was still frazzled from the previous few weeks of his decline and death. I shook hands with a procession of strangers and near-strangers and then it was over and we left.
This, though, felt like a much more personal and fitting tribute, and – speaking for myself but I’m guessing others would agree – was a more satisfying catharsis emotionally and created a much more distinctive memory.

I too am glad we ended up doing it properly. I still can’t say enough about how kind and respectful everybody involved was.

You’re welcome, all of you. I was actually kind of bursting to get back to a keyboard and tell the story.

Thanks, Wheelz. That was very interesting. I hope your family treasures these memories, and that they’re a fitting end to the story of your father’s life.

Thanks for sharing this - it brought a lump to my throat - I mean in a good way. It’s a sad, but at the same time, heartwarming story.

Fascinating - thanks!