One of the things that really bothered me about my father’s funeral was the body. It was in no way his body—he was long gone from it—and yet it was made to look “alive”. He had make up on, combed hair, a suit & tie, the whole deal. Even his favorite little aborted fetus feet pin. I really don’t understand the desire to make dead people look like they’re still alive. Like at any moment he might sit up and be all, “What’s up, guys?”
I was wandering through the cathedral here in Augsburg (oh, hey, I’m in Augsburg, now, guys! I’ll be here until mid-August) and there are dead people in the walls, dead people under the stone slabs, a crypt (with its own chapel directly above, dedicated to death), and everywhere acknowledgement of the impermanence of this life.
Now I will be one of the first to say that the Catholic faith is way too obsessed with Jesus’ death (and suffering and blood and the fluid that “flowed out of his wounds” along side the blood…and his blood some more), but I think that a healthy acknowledgement of our own deaths is…well, healthy. A lot of my pics didn’t turn out, so this is the best I could do to illustrate: this is a bishop’s grave set into the wall. At the top, covered in gold leaf, is a skull with a bishop’s hat, a cross, wings, and an hourglass. Not morbid when in the context of actual death. And this was by no means the only such grave. Most of them had skulls set into them as decoration. Almost as a reminder: we’re not just remembering this dude, we’re remembering that he had a body, a body that is right here behind this stone, rotting away, just like yours will, and if you can’t deal with that, have a seat where you can see it and think about it for a while; pray about it, if you will.
Our society could use a bit more of that, if you ask me. Maybe that’s why I find such affinity with the goth movement: we really do need to do a better job of acknowledging the darkness. Embracing it, without losing ourselves in it. Death happens. Night falls. Flowers, people, and buildings wither and decay. But life happens, too; the sun rises again, and new life springs from death. Hiding either behind the other is a crime against both.
9 responses so far ↓
1 Lessie // Jun 23, 2009 at 2:16 pm
I had similar issues with my mom’s body. When she died, her hair was gone, her mouth was hanging open, her false teeth had been taken out. But by the time the funeral rolled around, there she was, wig on, teeth back in and makeup on. It was so surreal, and not really comforting to me in anyway. That was no longer my mother, it was just a body. Whatever made my mom human was long since gone. I wrote a lot about it on my blog at the time.
I wish we as a society could be more accepting of the death aspects of our existence as well.
2 Bob // Jun 23, 2009 at 2:22 pm
Jane,
I too am bothered at funerals. It’s been a long time since I went up to a coffin to view the body..not the memory I want.
I am also bothered by the lightness some wish to display. I feel I should be sadden and mournful at the end of a life. I don’t feel like some good laughing, or joy. There will be a time for that. A time for hope will come later.. this time is for a sad goodbye.
3 Numi // Jun 23, 2009 at 6:04 pm
I am at the opposite end of the spectrum from Bob. Please remember the fortunate life that I had and reminisce about the good times that we shared.
My father’s funeral was full of joy for our family. His (and our) suffering was finally over. His service was one with laughter and shared memories, not the usual LDS service. And yes, I still miss him terribly after more than 13 years.
Just in the last week I have made my own wishes known, to have my ashes spread in the Snake River that flows to the Pacific Ocean.
4 Shelly // Jun 23, 2009 at 8:10 pm
For Christmas my MIL gave me a book on death by Mary Roach called Stiff. Quite aptly (which is why I suppose she’s the author) the subtitle was “the curious lives of human cadavers”. The book sat on my shelf for a good three months before I was brave enough to pick it up.
See, I am deathly afraid of death. So staring at it right up close through the “life” of a cadaver wasn’t my bag. But the book made me confront some of my most fearful issues and arrive on the other side of the cover with such a better perspective on life and death.
I’m with you xJane. I think we need more reality in death. If people are sad, then let them be sad. If people want to laugh and cry – all at the same time. So be it. But make it true to the person who died. Make it a celebration of the life they had, the life they no longer had, and the glorious cycle.
5 Chandelle // Jun 23, 2009 at 9:36 pm
I’ve always had a fascination with dead bodies and from the age of 9 I thought playing with them all the time would be a fantastic profession. So after high school I went into a pre-med program with the intention of becoming a coroner. In college I loved to observe and participate in autopsies and I still believe that I could have been very happy in that line of work. It’s the human body in all its stages, conception through decay, that is fascinating to me.
But attending classes in the local mortuary was the opposite of fun and exciting. I could not believe what sort of degradations were inflicted upon a human body to make it look lively and sane. Almost nobody has any idea what happens in mortuaries, with good reason. Paul McCartney’s famous phrase about slaughterhouses with glass walls could easily be applied to death care. And the mortician profession is an incredible racket.
Observing the standard operations in a mortuary convinced me that I would never want those things done to my body. Not because of my attachment to my body, but because I don’t want to contribute to the pathology of our culture’s denial of death. For a long time I thought I would just be cremated, but now I’d prefer to be wrapped in a muslin sack and tossed in the ground. Let the animals eat me. Screw it. I’m a part of the earth and I’d like to feed it when I die.
Since adopting Buddhist practice I have enjoyed death meditations – bringing awareness to my impending death, playing it out in my mind. It causes me to look really hard at the way I’m spending my days, and how I treat my loved ones, and the things I say and waste.
Thanks for this post, xJane. I hope you have support through your grief.
6 xJane // Jun 24, 2009 at 11:05 am
Bob—I agree as well that a death should occasion mourning. My mother didn’t want anyone wearing black, because it should be a celebration that he’s in heaven now. I get that, but it felt like a denial of the pain I felt at his loss. I also get the Irish tradition of lets-drink-and-celebrate-and-remember, which I think would be preferable to Thou Shalt Not Be Sad.
Chandelle—the funeral industry really is a racket. One of my sisters went with mom & they started at the cheapest coffin and went up until they found one they liked (still close to the bottom of the list). It was very tasteful, and for something that got covered in a flag, anyway even the price they ended up paying seemed insanity to me.
I’ve told DH that, when I’m dead, he can do whatever he wants with me. I’m certainly not going to be around to care. But what I’d like is something that doesn’t disrupt the natural process of returning to the earth. He’s said he wants to plant a tree over me; I could go with that. Or a pine box, or a linen shroud, or cremation, or freezing-and-blowing up. Again, not gonna be here for it. But I really don’t want a traditional formaldehyde-and-coffin funeral.
And, I want a Speaking. I’ve already told my cousin that she is to say something along the lines of, “She could be a real bitch sometimes, but I loved her anyway,” as long as what she decides on doesn’t make me out to be something I wasn’t. I even told one of my sisters that, if she feels moved to speak at my funeral, she should tell the truth. She and I had a conversation about how weird it was to hear everyone make dad out to be some kind of saint. I’m glad it wasn’t just me who felt that way.
7 Cobwebs // Jun 24, 2009 at 12:35 pm
I think that Western culture’s dissociation from death is a fairly recent phenomenon. The mortality rate, especially for children, used to be a lot higher, and death was something that tended to happen at home instead of a hospital. Now it’s sanitized and segregated, and I think it gives us an unhealthy view of the whole thing.
I always liked the Victorians’ “memento mori” tradition, which wasn’t really an embrace of death so much as an acceptance of it. I think that’s a healthy attitude: Everybody’s gotta go some time, you may as well get comfortable with the idea.
8 Bob // Jun 25, 2009 at 8:09 am
I am a “Taking Chance “ kinda guy. ( If you saw that program featured on HBO).
For most, a life is hard. I do believe in putting as must joy and laughter in it as possible. But again, for most, at the end of that life, is it’s funeral. It may be the only time that lived life will be honored, respected, and morned for it’s ending. That’s my view.
9 Sunday in Outer Blogness: Back in the U.S.A. Edition! | Main Street Plaza // Jun 28, 2009 at 6:42 am
[...] There were a number of interesting philosophical discussions this week. I especially liked Hypatia’s story of coming out as a non-believer to her TBM brother (and following up with a friendly discussion of logical fallacies). Andrew S. (+ Seth R.) makes an interesting point that the question of God’s existence is a separate (and less useful) question than the question of God’s relevance. The folks at Unscrewing the Inscrutable ask what is an “avowed atheist” anyway? (though, unfortunately, the discussion degenerates into the usual debate over whether atheism is a religion). And xJane writes about the importance of acknowledging death in death. [...]
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