Celebrations of Life
You know how people these days refer to funerals as "celebrations of life?" They say, "He would have wanted this service to be a celebration."
Really? Because I thought "celebration of life" is what all these birthday parties have been about. I can't think of a time when I've felt celebratory at a funeral. I mean, I get the idea that we are celebrating the good things in their life and the impact they had on others and that they are in Heaven now. But at the funeral, I tell you what, I'm still mad. I don't want to be told to skip over the grief stage and go straight to reflecting on the great things in their life. I want to sit there and be devastated. I'm not ready to be thankful for the time I did have with them. I'm not ready to be glad they're in Heaven. And Lord help you if you tell me that "everything happens for a reason."
I wonder if we try to convince ourselves that funerals are celebrations so that none of us has a hysterical breakdown in front of the gathered crowd. Because, after all, who has a breakdown at a celebration?
And I wonder when this phrasing got started, because I don't remember it being like this all my life until recently. I hope it is a trend that will go away soon.
Maybe we should have funerals in two stages. Stage One is a few days after death, when everyone gets to be grief-stricken. Stage Two is ten years later (by which point the widow can brush her teeth in the morning before she remembers how lonely she is) when everyone gets to celebrate the good things he did.
posted by laura g @ Wednesday, April 04, 2007
8 Comments:
It seems that noone wants to just be devastated anymore. There's this new swing in religion where we pray our grief away of our sins, our hurts or our loss so we can hurry on to the joy. There is so much to be learned in devastation and you are exactly right. Great post!!
This really bothers me lately too...
Amen, Laura. I understand celebrating the good things, but if it's a funeral I want the chance to cry. And I want the chance to be angry, not just sad. I think it's a self-preservation instinct. We're all trying not to fall apart. But I bet Jesus blessed those who REALLY mourned, not those who tried to skip over the grief and go right to the joy.
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Wow, Laura. What an excellent post. And, I don't just say that because I happen to agree with EVERYTHING you wrote here, twenty-times over :)
Really, I think a lot of our trying to bypass emotion because it is often considered “negative.” Sure, many of us don't like being emotionally vulnerable in front of others, but perhaps we don't like the feeling so much because of the way we are received when emotions spill out. And, if you are human, they are bound to do so eventually.
I think we want people to "celebrate life" in the face of death and to "fake it till they make it," along with offering up all of those other completely absurd theories of dealing with pain, because so many of us simply don't want to have to see or deal with the other side of grief and/or pain--the side that isn't easy, pretty, comfortable or quickly solvable. I can't tell you how many times I have heard people who lose children or have other pain in their life speak of how their "friends" all disappear in the light of the tragedy. And, I am an optimist for the most part—a believer in the idea that the heart of life and people is good-- so I am not here to claim that those who disappear are evil or even selfish, but they ARE an example of our culture, our inherent natures--whatever it is—that causes us to walk away quietly whenever it is we don't want to feel that uncomfortable feeling of not knowing what to do or say. Of course, the message we send when we stay away is loud and clear.
It makes me frustrated and confused when I see a "stoic" response to tragedy elevated as the very thing we should all aim for. I always think of Jacqueline Kennedy and how she is always spoken of being a "model of grace" when she stood alongside her children, solemn, poised, and stoic in the aftermath of such personal tragedy. I have no issue with HER, of course, but do question those who seemed to REVERE her for not breaking down and crying in front of all of us. Isn’t interesting why we, as a nation, prefer that kind of response?
But, I will end by saying that I went to a funeral last year for a family friend who battled cancer. She died young, leaving a young teenage daughter and a huge legacy of faith and love behind to her family, church, and community. She was FULL of life and energy and service to others; she knew how to throw a party and did so often. Therefore, she planned her entire funeral down to the smallest detail, including the speakers, music, and reception. She definitely wanted people to celebrate her life and the fact that she was now with her Heavenly father. She wanted dessert served from the church kitchen, the very place she served people for years and years, directly after the funeral service. People came from afar and ate cheesecake at 10 a.m. and thought of how this was exactly what she wanted them to do. And, it really was "a lovely service," as they all say.
Hey Laura,
You really are on to something; I agree that we are reluctant to cry and grieve in public. What an indictment of our society.
Laurie, your Jacqueline Kennedy example is EXACTLY right. That bothers me to no end. In the past five months, three men of my church have died. All three funerals have been "celebrations of life" and all three widows (young, I might add) have been revered as "models of grace and dignity." I heard one of the widows respond quietly, "that's only because they haven't seen me at the house." Our desire to observe a dignified response to grief pressures the grieving to maintain the facade for us.
i just want people laughing at the ridiculous epitaph on my tombstone.
something like one of my favs that Ive heard
"see, i told you I was sick."
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