Do funerals really provide closure?

In My Humble Opinion
21

I think a lot of people need those sorts of markers, to make the important transitions. We have rituals to commemorate or set apart many of the landmarks in our lives, from birth to death. It’s easier to realize them when there is some definite action to make them stand out from everyday life.

As WhyNot said, I like the photo collage idea, and I really like the idea of giving people enough time to get past the immediate “I’m so sorry” to something more like, “Do you remember…?” At my dad’s wake there were groups of people, mostly family, standing around telling stories about him, and sharing their memories. It was a great thing.

It was time out from normal living to take notice. I, for one, needed to do that.

22

I also wanted to say that when I do go to funerals I feel as if my role is to help demonstrate to the bereaved their loved one’s importance to a larger group than his family.

When my grandparents, who were very active in civic and church organizations, died hundreds and hundreds of people filled the local community center. Knowing that all those things they did really meant something to so many people continues to influence me twenty years later.

23

I experienced my first death earlier this year, and it was completely unexpected and tragic. My uncle was just 30 years old and left behind two young children. Everyone in our family was in a state of shock. I’d never dealt with any of it before, but I’m incredibly close to my grandmother so I stayed at her house to try to help her in whatever capacity I could. One thing that I observed during those first few days is that funerals are an almost impossible demand on the bereaved. Seeing my grandmother rush around to try to get things in order for her son’s funeral was more than a little devastating. She couldn’t go more than a few minutes without breaking down and it was incredibly difficult for her to focus. The burden on the bereaved to essentially plan a social event is extraordinary. I can’t imagine a more horrible tradition, honestly. She’s having to think about accommodating guests when her son just died. I think there are some cultures that wait quite a while before holding a mourning service. This makes much more sense to me.

The actual funeral was something else. There were so many people, and they just kept coming up one by one to my grandmother and saying, ‘‘I’m so sorry,’’ and she broke down sobbing every single time. It had to be the worst for her, every condolence a punch in the gut. It was tortuous to see my loved ones in so much pain, but it was bittersweet to watch the photo montage and remember a time when my uncle was still innocent, carefree, a child. An amazing number of people showed up–far more than anybody expected–and that had an impact too, in a bittersweet way. I think even though funerals are so horrible, in a way they are necessary. Maybe not necessary for the people closest to the deceased, but necessary for everyone else–the childhood friends, the neighbors, those who might be anywhere near a place of closure within three days. Based on my experience they seem to be incredibly painful for the immediate family, but incredibly healing for the community as a whole.

Anyway my heart still hurts when I think of that day, and all the suffering.

24

I went to a funeral for a friend in May 2007. He died young—40, only. He had been a clean living kind of guy, not drinking much, certainly not smoking, and generally quite fit. Until testicular cancer came along, you would have probably thought he’d live to 100.

In the casket I noted that he was bald from the chemo. And the makeup on Mike was horrible…I’m not dissing those who did it because they probably did their best. But I went away thinking, ‘Maybe that’s really a good thing. If he had looked tanned and healthy, full head of hair and vibrant, as he was in life, I might not believe he was really dead.’

For me, in that case, the service left no doubt that he was gone. I hadn’t seen him since December, but for some it may be years since they saw the deceased. Believing the person is gone is the first step.

RIP, Mike.

25

For me, yeah. I’ve been to a ton of funerals and seeing the body in the casket, and the casket closing, and the casket going in the ground…it helps get you somewhere.

Also, the religious aspect of the funeral is one of the last big things keeping me around as a Christian. The only thing that can make me feel better at a time like that is thinking about heaven and whatnot. Hearing the preacher/pastor remind me what is in store for my loved one…well that really really helps.

26

In a way, in a case such as you’ve described, as hard as they may be for the family at the time, they can also provide comfort later, in a certain way.

Although not quite as horribly young, my dad also died early, being felled by a sudden brain cancer at age 56. Although we had a week or so to move into the space of thinking about his dying before he actually died, it was still very sudden and hard.

A cast of thousands showed up at his funeral, including his colleagues bused in from Toronto by his employer. At the time it was awfully hard to greet each of those people, but we took it in turns, and in aggregate it was a comfort to think how dear he was to those people, and to what great lengths they went to share in the ceremony.

A crucial part, though, was that I insisted on and obtained a more private committal ceremony at the cemetery, for just the family, after the funeral service. That was much more of a direct comfort and immediate emotional significance, as was the burial of his ashes several weeks later, with still fewer people (mom_mcl, bro_mcl, aunt_mcl, and one very, very dear friend and his family).

27

I think a funeral is sometimes required so that people can accept the idea that someone is really, truly dead. Going through the ritual can be helpful for this. I used to think open casket funerals were ghoulish–and I still hate the embalming, makeup, etc. that makes them look like plastic dolls–but seeing the dead body can also be important for getting the idea that “Person X is dead” into your mind.

My younger sister died last year at age 27. There was no cause of death found. One second she was alive, watching TV with her fiance. The next minute, dead. Only her fiance and one of my sisters actually saw her body; then she was cremated. I now feel that was a huge mistake. Because my sister was never sick, and no reason for the death was found, it has left the rest of us feeling like the whole thing–even the funeral–was unreal. She was so young and healthy, energetic and fit. She was in perfect shape, always had enough energy for three people, and was a straight arrow as far as lifestyle went.

Every time she does not show up to a family event, it is still kind of a surprise. Since she was deployed with the Navy for awhile not long before her death, it is easy for the mind to put her into the “absent but still alive” category. She doesn’t seem to fit into the “dead” category. Nothing we ever saw of her would go along with putting her there. The funeral was the closest I got to making it feel real, but in the end, it is just a name on a plaque.

It’s not just me, either. My youngest sister, my mother, my dead sister’s best friend…we all walk around with the vague sense that someday she’s going to turn up. Logically, we know she’s dead. But at the same time, it is not logical that she’s dead.

I’m pretty sure a traditional open casket funeral would have made me vomit (literally), but I know for a fact it would have helped me to accept the whole nonsensical situation. So yeah. I think for many people, seeing the dead body at a funeral helps them accept the facts.

“Closure,” though, I think is a bullshit word.

28

One more vote for “It depends.”

My father-in-law’s funeral was characterized by discussion of his life and while not the final step in the greif process, it seemed to help people move along thru that process.

A few years ago at the funeral of a brother who killed himself it was not as good. The minister in effect said “He is in hell because he killed himself but he’d want you to go to heaven so you should start attending church.” Not much help there!

29

What a horrible experience that must have been for you. I am so sorry for your loss. Mine was quite minor in comparison, the biggest impact really being how it changed family dynamics (my grandparents are now legal guardians to my uncle’s 10 year old) and just challenged me, for the first time, to understand what death was.

But you make a good point. I never did see my uncle’s body–he was cremated, and for several weeks afterward I kept seeing people on the street and thinking, for a split second, it must be him. I kept expecting to bump into him on accident. It was the most unreal thing, to have to keep reminding myself he wasn’t there anymore. When I was driving home to be with my grandparents, I kept thinking as soon as I saw my uncle I was going to give him a big hug and tell him how sorry I was. How sorry I was that he was dead. It’s such a weird state of limbo.

I don’t know if seeing the body would have changed any of that.

I also remember, a loooong time ago my step-great grandfather died. I was not very close to him but he had always been a sweet, caring man to me and treated me like his own grandchild. He’d been a fire chief for decades, and on the day of his funeral they had a procession of firetrucks from several neighboring counties, in addition to his own, to honor his passing. It was extremely moving for all concerned, and I would say that was an example were a funeral was a very good thing.

30

It really depends on the person and the kind of grief. For my great-grandparents it wasn’t as important for me because we were all pretty well prepared and my family is already very close.

But a young friend of mine died overseas, and all I wanted to do was go to the funeral. It was a child and I just felt like the poor kid didn’t have enough time to mark her presence on this earth. The least I could do was give her her three days (the length of a traditional funeral in that area.) If you don’t get anything in life, at least you get that.

And also, with that one, I just had a hard time mourning right. Funerals give you permission to cry. Permission to grieve as much as you need to. And also kind of permission to move on. Not to forget, but to keep going at life.

31

olivesmarch4th, “limbo” describes it for me. When my husband died (in a hospital), I declined when the doctor asked if I wanted to see him. He was cremated. My mom and brother died on the other side of the country, and they were cremated too. Part of me knows they’re gone, but they’re not as gone as the friends and relatives I’ve seen in caskets.

32

Maybe society knows what it’s doing, then, when it retains funerals as a social convention.

The stories of loss here are just heart-breaking. :frowning:

33

I’ve always felt that this tradition was done when people did the wakes at home and embalming was probably not done. Get the body in the grave ASAP before it gets really bad.

With the explosion of the funeral industry in the last 75 years ( or more) and embalming being de rigeur, I think what is slowly going on is the Funeral Home Industry taking advantage of the bereaved with the three day dead to funeral to burial mentality.

Or that people just expect to have the funeral three days later. That’s how its always been done. That is a lot of SHIT to take care of in three days, even if it is pre-planned or pre-bought. No one can make a sound financial decision when you are just 24-48 hours from losing a loved one. The funeral home industry preys on this weakness.

Funereal do provide closure of sorts. It is a ritual of life. Someone dies, you get dressed up and sit through some service about that persons life and you reflect on your own mortality, cry some, sing some songs, blow your nose, send the body off to the cemetary, drop it down and then you turn around and see and know who your family and friends really are. It is possibly 3-7 hours of this ( not including the viewing stuff.) and really just a paltry amount of time in the scheme of things.

Funerals are possibly the only excuse for some friends and family to reconnect without the busyiness of a wedding or other party. No presents involved. Just your presence.

34

My mother died three months ago. My step-father was just planning to have a very small funeral at their parish. Well, my mother was one of 11 kids. I have 42 first cousins. And people want to be there. And although seenig her in a casket wasn’t pleasant, it was good to have the family there, telling stories, getting a little drunk and weepy (my mother’s brothers will cry at a sappy TV commercial). We did the traditional viewing, Catholic funeral (where I ended up writing a good bit of the homily. The priest had just come to the parish and didn’t know her well. He asked for an e-mail with some personal bits to work into the homily, then ended up reading verbatum what I wrote, except for a story of how she and my step-father were the first parishoners to invite him into their home when the beloved former pastor was reassigned.) We went to the cemetary and interred her next to my father. My cousin, a really good tenor, sang “Danny Boy”, but got choked up so we all had to join in. Mother always made him sing for her, especially on St. Patrick’s Day. On of my other cousins offered to design the carving on her headstone, when the time came (he’s an excellant sculptor and artist).

It was cathartic. Closure? Not really. But a shared grieving experience with people that also loved her? Definitely.

StG

35

The minister who did my father’s funeral didn’t really know him, as Mom and Dad hadn’t been to church for quite a while (well, Dad hadn’t even been out of the house for a while). But I was impressed with the way he handled it. At the wake he made a point of sitting down with each of us kids and asking about Dad and what we remembered most. Then he incorporated that into the eulogy, not trying to make it sound as if he knew Dad, but just telling what he’d learned from us and what we remembered. It really ended up being a pretty complete picture and it was a lot more personal, oddly enough.
As circumstances happened he was able to frame it with the fact that Dad spent part of his last day with his oldest and youngest family members. My oldest brother called him and I took the baby (youngest grandchild) to visit.

I know this wandered a bit from the subject at hand, but it always comes to mind when I start thinking about how funerals ought to be done. I think they need to teach this in Seminary.

36

My grandma died last year and I didn’t look at her in the casket because I didn’t want to remember her like that. I had seen her sick but not at the very end and my mom says she wasn’t recognizable in the casket. I’m glad I didn’t see it but at the same time I sometimes catch myself having to remember that she’s dead. Seeing her may have prevented some of that.

It may bring some kind of “closure” but it’s all the times after that that remind you of the person that keep the process going and that never really ends. I can’t imagine how that will be when my mom dies. It’s unbearable to think about. A good celebration will bring the satisfaction of having carried out her wishes and sharing that with other people, but that’s about it.