Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Death owes me a steak dinner…
Written by Shari Hadley, LCSW 

Today’s guest post comes from Shari Hadley, LCSW (Licensed Masters Social Worker).  Shari was raised in rural Missouri by both parents until her mother’s untimely death in a farming accident. While in college, she became Wiccan, married and had a son, but then tragedy struck again leaving her a widowed single mother at age 30. Read more about her incredible journey in her book “From the Cauldron to the Cross”.
Contact Shari via her website www.cauldrontothecross.com or “Like” on the book’s Facebook page.

 *****



I had always thought of Death as a person, at least, until recently. Only while participating in a Bible study of Revelations did it occur to me to even question the idea. “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.” Revelation 6:8 (NIV). It was this personification of Death in scripture that brought my original beliefs about death to the forefront. You see, I normally think in very literal terms. Thankfully I’ve had a very patient Bible study teacher who enjoys my inquisitive mind (God Bless you Dr. Truelove!) and was able to help me understand that this passage is not to be taken literally, but figuratively.

So I have a better understanding of the existence of death, but I still personify him. It’s hard not to. After all, my hospice buried 211 people last year. That’s a lot of people, and I am the only grief counselor for all of their families. So it’s hard not to think of death as a fellow coworker. “Here let me introduce you to everyone. This is our chaplain, there is our volunteer coordinator, here are a couple social workers, our medical director and our nurses. Oh yeah, and over there by the coffee pot? That’s the Grim Spector of Death. That’s why the darn pot never works. Say hello to our visitors Death. (he waves a friendly hello).” You see Death and I are friends. And like a good friend, I don’t always agree with his methods or who he chooses to have a relationship with, because after all, none of his relationships end well.


I remember the first time I met Death. I was a child. We had a black Labrador retriever named Hambone. Hambone was just like every other black lab you ever met. Sweet, good tempered, patient, docile and dedicated fully to his family. Always ready with a wag of the tail, and a hug, hoping maybe, just maybe you’ll drop some of what you are eating, because kids are, by nature, messy creatures and it was his job to clean up after the household. But Hambone was getting old. He had been a puppy when I was a baby, and I wasn’t a baby anymore. He was moving slower from arthritis and had white on his muzzle. And one day Hambone didn’t show up for dinner. We looked everywhere, calling his name, but to no avail. He just seemed to disappear.

Several weeks went by and I was taking a walk in the woods near our house. As I wandered down a dry creek bed, something to the side caught my eye. It was black fur on skin, pulled tight over a loose pile of bones. It was Hambone. I ran home crying, looking for my father. Rather than move Hambone, we simply covered his body with soil and placed a marker. Dad explained to me that sometimes when animals get old and know their time is coming, that they wander off to die. And that’s what Hambone did. I know he wandered off for my benefit, but it still frightened me.

I was frightened of everything at that age, and it didn’t help that I could see Hambones grave from my bedroom window. I used to have nightmares of his bones coming to life and chasing me, or pacing outside my window. Yeah, Death and I weren’t friends back then. Soon after this incident Hambone’s best friend, our other dog Fluffy died. We buried her next to Hambone. And it became apparent that Death was on a roll. In the same woods, just a few yards away from Hambone and Fluffy’s grave, Death took my mother’s life with a chainsaw. 27 years later he would stand with me in the bedroom next to my own childhood room. With my arms around my dying father, I would look out his bedroom window and see Hambone’s grave.


But how does someone become friends with Death? It seems like such an appalling idea. As appalling as say…working at hospice? Boy, how many times have those of us in hospice been asked “So, where do you work?” and once we respond, the individual reacts with some form of shock or horror followed by the reply “Well, that must be depressing!” or if it’s a doctor the reply is “I hope I never have to use your services!” I think it’s these responses that helped me begin to feel empathy for Death. After all, no one likes him and nobody is ever glad to see him. But after so many years in hospice, with nearly 800 deaths under my belt, hundreds of funerals, sympathy cards, and condolence calls, I’ve come to respect Death. How can I not, after seeing the glassy eyes of my patients who gasp for breath, feverish, slipping into unconsciousness, usually after losing so much weight that they are nearly unrecognizable to even their loved ones. Death is a welcome reprieve. That’s not to say I don’t grieve. I do, and I do hard.

We bury my father-in-law Don Conner this Saturday at 11am in the Appleton City Cemetery. I’ve known Don nearly 20 years, and Death has truly broken my heart once again. I cry so hard, that I slip to the floor, crumpled, face in my hands, weeping bitterness, begging God for a break. Just a little break…from my friend Death. Even though Don was badly injured from his fall March 9th, all of us truly thought he could be rehabilitated enough to one day come home. Maybe for Christmas. But I guess that won’t be the case.



I recently saw a phrase on a church billboard that said “Every day spent above ground is a good day.” Every time I see it, I think how a phrase could not be more untrue. Especially for a church. But I guess that’s how you feel when you’re not friends with Death. And by my way of thinking, Death owes me a steak dinner right about now….

Article taken from 

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Confessions of a Funeral Director -- Writing the Dark Chapters

CONFESSIONS OF A FUNERAL DIRECTOR
Writing the Dark Chapters


By Caleb Wilde

I walk into a room at 6 a.m. and all eyes fix on me and my next move.  I am, after all, the odd one out in the room, the one whose face isn’t stained with tears; the one wearing dress clothes, who’s there in body, but whose soul isn’t in the depths.

I’m the colonialist, walking into another culture, ready to impose society’s desire for a clean picture of death.

Those who are sitting around the bed of the deceased aren’t thinking about what you and I are thinking about at 6 in the morning.  They aren’t wondering how they will get their kids dressed in time for school; or how they’re going to pitch their project to coworkers at work.

Everything is on hold.

Time has slowed at a pedestrian pace and they sit in grief … resisting the reality that what was their husband, their wife, their son, daughter, grandfather, friend is no longer present to hug, laugh and live with.

Death creates its own culture … its own world.

A world where time seems to altogether stop, where language is often spoken with less words and more tears, hugs and contemplation, where the regular dress code doesn’t exist and where the norms and mores of society are put on hold.  Here, in this sacred space at 6 a.m. in the morning, God seems nearer; family and friends surround you; you can let your emotional inhibitions go.  This is the world that was never meant to be and yet is everything you wish it could be.  It seems we have to go back through death to get to Eden.

With tie draped down my dress shirt, if I can’t imagine a world unlike mine … if I can’t picture a context outside of me … if I can’t remove myself from the all too obvious facts that it’s 6 a.m., I’m tired, didn’t get my Dunkin Donuts medium coffee with cream and sugar, and that I’ll be even more tired tonight when I’m supposed to go to Chili’s with my wife; if I can’t imagine the family’s story; the story of the deceased and his life and the loss this represents, I can’t be a good funeral director.

Funeral directing is a lot like writing.  It involves alterity, imagination and the ability to make a lot of the detail and little of the obvious.  I write the story as I walk into the sacred space of grief.

I notice the one closest to the decease’s body.  ”That’s probably the NOK”, I think to myself.  Granted, the story is easier to imagine if I already know the family, but this morning I don’t.  The closest one to the bed is oft the main character in this play; and I can write a story of comfort, by entering the narrative with a warm hug, maybe even a kiss, a kind smile and eyes that speak of the compassion my heart is feeling; or, I could write a story as a narrator, standing back, observing and not entering.  What does this specific family need?

I wait as the drama unfolds, as my very presence evokes the supporting characters who will inevitably point me to the protagonist.


Asking questions; feeling out the room.  I enter in and I – at this very moment – have the privilege and responsibility of helping to write this chapter.


Taken from 

Friday, June 7, 2013

Tear Drops are Falling on My Arm: An Unexpected Moment of Healing


Tear of Gratitude

Tear Drops are Falling on My Arm: An Unexpected Moment of Healing


- by Dr Craig

For me, tears are usually healing. I do understand that there is such a thing as depressive crying in which someone cries continually in a way that keeps them stuck in replaying the same emotional movie over and over. In this essay, I am not talking about depressive crying; rather, I am talking about some instances in which tears the tears of others have felt healing, and in which I was the stimulus for the tears.


There have been a good number of occasions during which I have said something to touch someone’s heart while they were standing over me in my wheelchair or leaning over me when I am lying down, and their tears dropped on my skin. Within the past few months or so, I was deeply touched when this happened with a person who had only worked with me for a few times began to shed tears on my arm.

This woman was holding the urinal while I was using it and while this was happening I found myself beginning to share something heavy that had been weighing on my heart. I kind of surprised myself when my words flowed out so beautifully about something that until that moment had chiefly existed in the realms of my heart and mind.

I told her that my life was currently seeming particularly challenging and difficult, and that I found myself having the thought that I was not sure how many more years I wanted to live like this. Then I told her the truth that resulted in a few of her tears sprinkling down on my bare forearm. I told her that I know that I am here to serve Allah through having a loving influence on the planet, as long as I am here. I am not able to accurately recall what I said, because it felt like such a spontaneous experience of heartfelt expression. I believe that I may have also said something about surrendering to using my life for good, regardless of whether my personality likes it or not–that I must endure and serve with gratitude.

I felt so honored, as her watery eyes revealed a greater depth of her soul. For me, having my presence be instrumental in some way to open up a greater soul expression for someone feels quite meaningful. I also feel grateful that there must be something about this person’s presence that helped create the field in which I found myself openly expressing my existential quandary. This person told me that what I had said was exactly what they needed to hear.

Prior to the teardrops landing on my forearm, I noticed that I was experiencing some relief as I seemed to feel the truth behind the words that were flowing through me with confidence. There are so many gifts to be found in such seemingly small experiences. I love the feeling of having my journey inspire or touch hearts. The moment I realized how deeply they were touched, I had a transformative experience regarding how I viewed my handling of my challenges. In that moment, I realized that the way I was approaching my grappling with the issue pressing upon my mind was…inspiring. I sometimes do see the gifts that I have in my life, and some of them I only see with the help of others.

Most of the time, people are laughing with me rather than crying, and these joyful times are what fill many shelves of the “movie” memory library of my mind; yet, there are many beautiful memories of healing tears as well. Sometimes the tears are mine and sometimes they pour forth from another; regardless of the eyes from which they pour forth, the tears are accompanied by a depth of the heart opening, and that is what matters.






With love and gratitude,
Dr Craig

Monday, June 3, 2013

Ritual: The Muscle Memory of Grief by Caleb Wilde

Ritual: The Muscle Memory of Grief
by Caleb Wilde

Caleb Wilde


Over the past couple months, I’ve been contemplating why the West (America, Europe, etc.) has so much aversion to death, while other — less “developed — cultures see death as less alien.  I’ve come up with two major reasons:


One.  Modernity.

Our modern world takes death care away from families and puts it in the hands of “professionals”, thus industrializing death.  Instead of the dying dwelling at our homes, we give them to nursing homes.  For more of my thoughts on this, here’s an article I wrote.

The modern world also likes providing answers to life’s questions.  So when death comes with its silence and mystery, we are rendered uncomfortable.

Two.  We lack ritual. There’s three reasons why there’s a lack of ritual:

1.)  We tend to be individualistic, which isn’t necessarily bad, but it produces a lack of community.

2).  We tend to dislike tradition.

3.)  We are becoming post-religious.

The following is my (rather poor) attempt to explain why the lack of ritual increases our aversion to death.

Muscle memory is what separates the professionals from the amateurs.

Muscle memory is what enables musicians to thoughtlessly play complicated music with near perfection.

Muscle memory is the product of laborious habit that makes incredibly difficult tasks seem like minutia.

I just came back from indoor rock climbing.

I’ve seen athletic and strong newbies come to the gym and they look like fools trying to climb routes.  Falling down on their bums, scraping their arms up and getting all nervous when they get to the top of the route.

Climbing is both strength and technique muscle memory.  And while newbies may be strong and athletic, if they don’t know how to move their bodies on the wall, they’re destined to fall and fail.

*****


Grief is similar. The walls of bereavement are very intimidating to even the spiritually and psychologically strong.  It doesn’t matter how whole you are, you will fall and you will fail.

Unless you enter through the trodden paths of ritual.

The muscle memory of grief is ritual. Ritual allows us to take the incredibly difficult task of mourning and find a way to persevere, even when it seems we shouldn’t.

Muscle memory is usually something you or I create through practice.  I climb routes at the climbing gym, my muscles get used to moving a certain way.

You practice the guitar day in and day out and your fingers move like jazz.

This is where the whole muscle memory analogy starts to fall apart when we relate it to grief.

While a professional’s muscle memory is something he or she created, death ritual muscle memory is something our community has created and it can only be “learned” within community.

You didn’t create it.  It’s something we inherit … or something we can join.

*****

This from Alla Bozarth in “Life Is Goodbye, Life is Hello: Grieving Well Through All Kinds of Loss”:

Funerals are the rituals we create to help us face the reality of death, to give us a way of expressing our response to that reality with other persons, and to protect us from the full impact of the meaning of death for ourselves.

The problem is this: so many of us have disconnected ourselves from community, tradition and a religion that we’ve never received the graces of grief ritual.

If we have community in place,

if we embrace tradition in times of death

and we’re willing to involve the motion and movement of religion,

we may find life and meaning in a task that many onlookers see as insurmountable.

Ritual doesn’t allow you to overcome grief (grief may never be overcome).  It doesn’t allow you to work through your grief faster.  Nor does make death more tolerable.  And it certainly won’t make you a “professional.”

Ritual allows you to confront a seemingly impossible task in the context of community.


Why is the West so adverse to death? Because devoid of ritual, confronting death is like asking me to play Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 23.


Mr. Wilde has many insightful articles that you may find helpful.
Check his website out Confessions of a Funeral Director

Monday, April 29, 2013

HOSPICE VOLUNTEERS - A VITAL PART OF CARING FOR THOSE WHO ARE DYING



What is Hospice?  

"At some time, in some way, we must all face the end of life, and most of us share a common hope that when death comes to us, or to a loved one, it will be peaceful.  We hope to be surrounded by those we love, feeling safe, comfortable and cared for.  When our life has ended, we hope that our loved ones, who are left behind, will be comforted and supported through their grief."  Living Lessons

Hospice volunteers come with a wide range of life experiences and skills that enable them to offer practical assistance and supportive care to meet the special needs arising out of the physical, emotional, spiritual, social and economic stresses experienced during the final stages of living, and during caregiving and bereavement.

Hospice volunteers work as part of the Hospice Pallative Care Team (consisting of the patient, their family and friends, healthcare professionals and volunteers) to ensure the needs and choices of those dealing with end-of-life issues are sensitively met.

Volunteers who have completed the training program are eligible to work with clients and their families providing compassionate care and support in the community in a variety of settings.  

They may work as:


  • A home visiting volunteer providing support and respite for the terminally ill, their families, and caregivers.
  • A volunteers on the Pallative Care Unit
  • A bereavement support volunteer working in formal and informal group programs.
Individuals, who wish to contribute on a volunteer basis without taking the training program provided may become "Friends of Hospice" and participate in non-client related activities such as:


  • Board Membership
  • Fundraising Activities
  • Office & House Support
  • Thrift Shop
Hospice is not only a place -- it is a philosophy of care.  We believe that life is a precious and fragile journey of growth and development and that, although death may be a time of sadness and separations, dying is a part of life's journey that can be embraced with dignity, serenity and hope.

Volunteer Training

Hospice volunteer training is experimental in nature and active participation in the group process is necessary.  Facilitators provide a safe environment for participants to share an are available for debriefing after and between training sessions.

Training includes:
                             Communication Skills
                                 Comforting Skills
                       Community Pallative Care Team
                             Issues of Death & Dying
                            Dealing with Grief & Loss
                                 Pallative Care Unit 
                                    Care of Self
                                  Care of Spirit

Following 40 hours of training, volunteers receive orientation and work with patients and families on the Pallative Care Unit with support of an experienced hospice volunteer.  

The generosity of our community enables us to offer our pallative and bereavement programs at NO COST to the participants.

Information taken from Volunteer Training Program Nanaimo Community Hospice Society  brochure --- More inforamtion at www.nanaimohospice.com or contact them via email
info@nanaimohospice.com




Thursday, April 4, 2013

RENT A MOURNER



‘Rent A Mourner’ 
Helps You Look More Popular At Your Funeral

Posted by CDFuneralNews

Hiring a professional mourner or training your staff to act as professional mourners gained national attention when the practice was exposed during the reality show ‘Best Funeral Ever‘. Now the Huffington Post has taken notice.

From Huffington Post:
A crowded funeral is one symbol of a well-lived life, but for those who have burned some bridges, one U.K. company has a solution to boost memorial service attendance.

Rent-A-Mourner, based in Essex, England, hires out fake mourners to local funerals for around $68 for two hours of grief, The Telegraph reports. Actors stand in as friends of the deceased, adding numbers to the crowd, said company founder Ian Robertson, who started the business last year.

To help the hired grievers fit in, the actors are briefed about the life of the deceased so that they can talk to other funeral-goers as if they had been friends, according to the company. “We will take your guidance on how you would like us to integrate and mix with your other guests,” its website states.

The idea is not new in other parts of the world. In some African countries, China and Middle Eastern countries it’s tradition to hire professional mourners who come to publicly grieve at funerals. In Ivory Coast, the job is a sought-after career for some women, who can make make up to several hundred dollars per day for their weeping services, according to a Radio Netherlands report.

The New York Times even noted the practice as long ago as 1877, with a short item about the popularity of “professional weepers” in Asia. The author envisioned that one day mechanical grievers could replace humans at American funerals: “Probably we shall use steam mourners at no distant day, for it is the firm conviction of the average American that whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing by steam.”

How To Seem More Popular At Your Funeral

A crowded funeral is one symbol of a well-lived life, but for those who have burned some bridges, one U.K. company has a solution to boost memorial service attendance. Rent-A-Mourner, based in Essex, England, hires out fake mourners to local funerals for around $68 for two hours of grief, The Telegraph reports.

via Huffingtonpost

Article taken from:
http://connectingdirectors.com/page/2

Friday, February 1, 2013

Grief Is Like Cutting Yourself Shaving


Grief Is Like Cutting Yourself Shaving
Guest article from: Lauren Polanski

If you end up going to Mortuary School, you’re going to end up learning about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. She’s like the ‘Go-To’ gal when it comes to grief. I remember spending nights studying with my classmates trying to learn her Five Stages of Grief. DABDA. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  After awhile it started to sound like a Flintstones episode in our dorm rooms with us yelling, “DABDA, DABDA, DOOOO!” (Kidding, kidding…we tried not to yell…) And I mean, sure her theory works. In theory. But (in my opinion) her guidelines are a little outdated. Let me tell you what grief if like from the perspective of a twenty-two year old, new to the business, funeral director.

Grief is like cutting yourself shaving.
I’m serious.
Okay, let me explain.

About two months ago I was taking a nice bubble bath. As I put down my book I took a look at my legs in the tub. They needed a good haircut. So I grab the shaving cream and my razor. As I lathered up my legs my mind started to wander. It does that a lot. And maybe I wasn’t paying much attention. Or maybe my razor was too dull. But I cut myself. Bad.
When I say bad you may not just understand how bad. So let me paint you a picture so you know how I felt. On my right leg right above my ankle I basically skinned off two good inches of flesh. Seriously. You know when you’re cooking mashed potatoes and right before you put them into the boiling-hot pot you skin them? Well, potato = Lauren’s leg. I had to pull my skin out of my razor because it clogged it. THAT’S how bad.

My initial reaction to said cut? A blood piercing scream. You can imagine that a cut will hurt, but you never know just how deep the pain goes until you experience it firsthand. Someone can come up to me and go, “Lauren, I’ve cut myself shaving before, I know how you feel.” And maybe they have cut themselves and they do know. But the pain that I felt, it was all my own. Only I know how bad it really hurt me. So what did I do after I cut myself? I took a nearby washcloth and I wrapped it around my leg. Tried to take my mind off of the situation. Hey, a girl has to finish her bath after all.

When I did finish I got out and put two band-aids on the wound. That’s right, one just wouldn’t cut it for me. And I went about my day. And the cut affected me. Because no matter how much I tried to ignore it, the pain was still present. Every time I took a step forward I was reminded about my cut. The next day I took off the band-aids to clean it and to my surprise the cut looked just as fresh as ever. I mean, it was still bleeding! So I washed it, and put on two fresh band-aids.  As the week went on I had good days and bad days. I couldn’t wear certain shoes because they brought out the pain in my leg. If I hit my leg against anything I would again be reminded by pain rushing back to the section of my leg where I had no skin. And when (a couple of months later) the cut did heal I was reminded about it again because of the scar that it left behind.

Are you still with me? Or did you have to excuse yourself because my descriptions were too much for you? Let’s recap.

When you’re grieving, people may have gone through similar situations, but only you know how it made you feel. Pain and hurt are difficult to explain. What may feel like a large burden to one person may not be the same for another. 

Remember your grief is your own.

You may not think that your grief is that bad and you may try to just wrap a washcloth around it and go on with your normal routine. For some people, staying busy helps them. For others, they’ll need to stop and really focus on their grief at hand.

Sometimes, the ‘normal’ amount of time/help/crying just doesn’t cut it with grief. Don’t be afraid to put two band-aids on even though others only used one.

Your grief may still ‘be bleeding’ the next day. When things are fresh it may take some time to get over it. Don’t let this scare you.  You’ll have good days and bad days. There will be things that remind you of your grief. There will be situations that make the grief sting like it’s fresh. It’s all okay.

And lastly, there will be a scar. There is a void in your life where something or someone once was. But you can make the scar beautiful. It doesn’t have to be a painful reminder. It can be a reminder of all the good times and memories that are still in your heart.

So there you have it. Grief, explained by Lauren. I hope that Elisabeth Kübler-Ross can help you if you’re going through a difficult time. She was a pretty awesome lady after all. And if you find that you’re all DABDA’d out, maybe you’ll look at your razor, think of me and my story and smile.


About the author, Lauren Polanski
Lauren is just like any other twenty-two year old girl besides for the small fact that she’s a licensed funeral director in New York State. Lauren is currently employed at the Lakeside Memorial Funeral Home, Inc. located in Hamburg, NY. When not working she enjoys reading, taking photographs and of course, writing about the funeral industry as seen through her eyes.  www.littlemissfuneral.wordpress.com

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

A Need to Mourn -- Meaningful Funerals are Vital





Why Meaningful Funerals are Vital After 

Traumatic Death

by Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D.


As we, as a nation, naturally struggle to comprehend the traumatic, violent deaths of innocent children and adults in Newtown,

Connecticut, and as we hear about the funerals of each unique, precious person killed in the massacre, let’s pause to consider the importance of ceremony. As I often say, when words are inadequate, start with ceremony. This is not a time to “talk at” these devastated families. Rather, it is a time to “be with” and support them and their community through the power of meaningful funeral experiences.

Understandably, traumatized mourners often don’t know where to start after the sudden, unexpected, calamitous death of someone they love. That is why we have funerals, which are not about “closure” but instead about the beginning of the need to mourn. Mourning is the expression of the grief we feel on the inside, and a personalized, meaningful funeral gives us a way to mourn in solidarity with others. Funerals help all of us know what to do when we don’t know what to do.

The WHYS of meaningful funerals

 The funeral ritual is a public, symbolic means of expressing our beliefs, thoughts, and feelings about the death of someone loved. Rich in history and rife with symbolism, the funeral ceremony helps us acknowledge the reality of the death, gives testimony to the life of the person who died, encourages the expression of grief in a way consistent with the culture’s values, provides support to mourners, allows for the embracing of faith and beliefs about life and death, and offers continuity and hope for the living.

I have discovered that a helpful way to teach about the functions of authentic funeral ceremonies is to frame them up in the context of what I refer to as the “reconciliation needs of mourning.” The reconciliation needs of mourning are the six needs that I believe to be the most central to healing in grief. In other words, bereaved people who have these needs met, through their own grief work and through the love and compassion of those around them, are most often able to reconcile their grief and go on to find continued meaning in life and living.



Six Reconciliation Needs
Of Mourning

How the funeral experience helps 

Mourning Need #1 ~ Acknowledge the reality of the death.


When someone loved dies, we must openly acknowledge the reality and the finality of the death if we are to move forward with our grief. Typically, we embrace this reality in two phases. First we acknowledge the death with our minds; we are told that someone we love has died and, intellectually at least, we understand the fact of the death. Over the course of the following days and weeks, and with the gentle understanding of those around us, we begin to acknowledge the reality of the death in our hearts.

Meaningful funeral experiences can serve as wonderful points of departure for “head understanding” of the death. Cognitively, funerals teach us that someone we loved is now dead, even though up until the funeral we may have denied this fact. When we contact the funeral home, set a time for the service, plan the ceremony, view the body, perhaps even choose clothing and jewelry for the body, we cannot avoid acknowledging that the person has died. When we see the casket being lowered into the ground or create elements of ceremony for the disposition of cremated remains, we are witness to death’s finality.

Of course, in cases of violent, untimely death, mourners are initially in shock. Shock, numbness, and disbelief are nature’s way of protecting us from realities that are too terrible to understand. Also, traumatized mourners often find themselves replaying and reconsidering over and over the circumstances of the death. This is both normal and necessary. Such replay helps them begin to acknowledge the reality of the death and integrate it into their lives. It’s as if their minds need to devote time and energy to comprehending the circumstances of the death before they can move on to confronting the reality that someone they love has died and will never be present to them again.

Yet supported by the structure of the funeral and in the company of others who love them, even families still in shock are helped to begin to confront this first critical need of mourning.

Mourning Need #2 ~ 
Move toward the pain of the loss.

As our acknowledgment of the death progresses from what I call “head understanding” to “heart understanding,” we begin to embrace the pain of the loss—another need that mourners must have met if they are to heal. Healthy grief means expressing our painful thoughts and feelings, and healthy funeral experiences allow us to do just that.

People tend to cry, even sob and wail, at funerals because funerals force us to concentrate on the fact of the death and our feelings, often excruciatingly painful, about that death. For at least an hour or two—longer for mourners who plan the ceremony or attend the visitation—those attending the funeral are not able to intellectualize or distance themselves from the pain of their grief. To their credit, funerals also provide us with an accepted venue for our painful feelings. They are perhaps the only time and place, in fact, during which we as a society condone such openly outward expression of our sadness.

Not only are Newtown’s families embracing their pain in the context of the private funeral ceremonies for those who died, many of us across the country and around the world have attended ceremonies in honor of the victims. We have lit candles and said prayers at our places of worship. These ceremonies give us a time and a place to feel and express our pain.

Mourning Need #3 ~ Remember the person who died.

To heal in grief, we must shift our relationship with the person who died from one of physical presence to one of memory. The funeral experience encourages us to begin this shift, for it provides a dedicated time for us to think about the moments we shared with the person who died. Like no other time before or after the death, the funeral invites us to focus on our past relationship with that one, single person and to share those memories with others.

At traditional funerals, the eulogy attempts to highlight the major events in the life of the person who died and the characteristics that he or she most prominently displayed. This is helpful to mourners, for it tends to prompt more intimate, individualized memories. Later, after the ceremony itself, many mourners will informally share memories of the person who died. This, too, is meaningful. Throughout our grief journeys, the more we are able “tell the story”—of the death itself, of our memories of the person who died—the more likely we will be to reconcile our grief. Moreover, the sharing of memories at the funeral affirms the worth we have placed on the person who died, legitimizing our pain. Often, too, the memories others choose to share with us at the funeral are memories that we have not heard before. This teaches us about the dead person’s life apart from ours and allows us glimpses into that life that we may cherish forever.

For the mourners of Newtown, sharing memories of those precious children and educators, both during the funerals and in the months and years to come, will help them not only survive but find meaning in the lives lived, however tragically brief many of them were.

Mourning Need #4 ~ Develop a new self-identity.


Another primary reconciliation need of mourning is the development of a new self-identity. We are all social beings whose lives are given meaning in relation to the lives of those around us. I am not just Alan Wolfelt, but a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a friend. When someone close to me dies, my self-identity as defined in those ways changes.

When someone with whom we have a family relationship dies, our self-identities naturally shift, and the funeral experience helps us begin this difficult process. If you are a parent of a child and that child dies, the funeral marks the beginning of your life as a parent and family with one fewer living children—a family with someone “missing.” 

Others attending the funeral are in effect saying, “We acknowledge your changed identity and we want you to know we still care about you.” On the other hand, in situations where there is no funeral, the social group does not know how to relate to the person whose identity has changed and often that person is socially abandoned. In addition, having supportive friends and family around us at the time of the funeral helps us realize we literally still exist. This self-identity issue is illustrated by a comment the bereaved often make: “When he died, I felt like a part of me died, too.”

Mourning Need #5. Search for meaning.

When someone loved dies, we naturally question the meaning of life and death. Why did this person die? Why now? Why this way? Why does it have to hurt so much? What happens after death? To heal in grief, we must explore these types of questions if we are to become reconciled to our grief. In fact, we must first ask these “why” questions to decide why we should go on living before we can ask ourselves how we will go on living. This does not mean we must find definitive answers, only that we need the opportunity to think (and feel) things through.

The funeral experience provides us with such an opportunity. For those who adhere to a specific religious faith, the meaningful funeral will reinforce that faith and provide comfort. Alternatively, it may prompt us to question our faith, which too can be an enriching process. Whether you agree or disagree with the belief system upheld by a particular funeral service may not matter; what may matter more is that you have held up your heart to that belief system and struggled with the gap.

Of course, all of us, and most certainly the close friends and family members of those killed in Newtown, Connecticut, are struggling with the “why” of these senseless deaths. Sudden, violent death never makes sense, especially when the lives of innocent children have been taken, yet it is normal and necessary nonetheless for us to ask why. The funeral marks the beginning of our search for meaning.

On a more fundamental level, the funeral reinforces one central fact of our existence: we will die. Like living, dying is a natural and unavoidable process. (We North Americans tend not to acknowledge this.) Thus the funeral helps us search for meaning in the life and death of the person who died as well as in our own lives and impending deaths. Each funeral we attend serves as a sort of dress rehearsal for our own.

Funerals are a way in which we as individuals and as a community convey our beliefs and values about life and death. The very fact of a funeral demonstrates that death is important to us. For the living to go on living as fully and as healthily as possible, this is as it should be.

Mourning Need #6 ~ 
Receive ongoing support from others.

As we have said, funerals are a public means of expressing our beliefs and feelings about the death of someone loved. In fact, funerals are the public venue for offering support to others and being supported in grief, both at the time of the funeral and into the future. Funerals make a social statement that says, “Come support me.” Whether they realize it or not, those who choose not to have a funeral are saying, “Don’t come support me.”

If there was ever a time and place to activate support for families and a community it is right now in Newtown, Connecticut. Thankfully, we are witnessing the families in this community allowing us to wrap our loving arms around them in their early, overwhelming grief. This public affirmation value of funerals cannot be overemphasized.

Funerals let us physically demonstrate our support, too. Sadly, ours is not a demonstrative society, but at funerals we are “allowed” to embrace, to touch, to comfort. 

Again, words are inadequate so we non-verbally demonstrate our support. This physical show of support is one of the most important healing aspects of meaningful funeral ceremonies.

Another one is the helping relationships that are established at funerals. Friends often seek out ways in which they can help the primary mourners: May I bring the flowers back to the house? Would you like someone to watch little Tyler for a few afternoons this week? I’d like to make a few meals for your family. When might be a good time to bring them over? Friends helping friends and strengthened relationships among the living are invaluable funeral offshoots.

Finally, and most simply, funerals serve as the central gathering place for mourners. When we care about someone who died or his family members, we attend the funeral if at all possible. Our physical presence is our most important show of support for the living. By attending the funeral we let everyone else there know that they are not alone in their grief.

As Helen Keller reminded us, “The only way to get to the other side is to go through the door.” Meaningful funerals are doorways to healing for those who mourn. This is especially true when death is sudden, unexpected, and calamitous. As you keep the families of Newtown, Connecticut, in your thoughts and prayers, also keep in mind the value of the funeral and other ceremonies that honor and remember those who died in the tragedy. Thank you for taking a few minutes to read this article and educate yourself about this important topic.


About the Author Dr. Alan Wolfelt is a respected author and educator on the topic of healing in grief. He believes that meaningful funeral experiences help families and friends support one another, embrace their feelings, and embark on the journey to healing and transcendence. 


Recipient of the Association of Death Education and Counseling’s Death Educator Award, Dr. Wolfelt is Director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition and is on the faculty of the University of Colorado Medical School’s Department of Family Medicine. 

He is also the author of many best selling books, including Understanding Your Grief, The Mourner’s Book of Hope and Creating Meaningful Funeral Ceremonies, available at www.centerforloss.com. Also visit www.meaningfulfunerals.com to learn more about the importance of funerals.