The first and only time I was at a funeral I think I was three and it was that of my second cousin’s. I do not remember much; I have one image in my mind of us sitting in a large church, with his children crying up in the front pews. The memory then fades and turns into the entire procession standing outside in the grass, except I remember being happy. Clearly unable to grasp much of the experience because of my young age, the care of the dead has rarely made its way into my realm of thoughts. The only other time I was confronted with the situation of a death was earlier this year, when a close friend of my mom’s husband died and we went to the wake. My sister and I walked around awkwardly for a few minutes and then stood at the coffin. It then occurred to me that there was a body inside of it, one that I could not see, but was nonetheless present. This idea made me uncomfortable, causing any thought of death to be pushed from my mind for the remainder of the night. With only these two experiences behind me, I do not know much of the care of the dead. I have only ever seen coffins and people dressed in black, otherwise ignoring any potentially informative details. The coffins hid the details of their care, separating the world of the dead from that of the living. As a child I barely understood the event, however when older I continued to push the thought from my mind. Perhaps this is taught to us, to treat death as an unthinkable thing, something that must be hidden.
Besides the common experiences of the aforementioned funeral and wake, my family has never really discussed the care of the dead. The only time I can explicitly remember anything being mentioned about the care of their bodies after death was when we were with my aunt and uncle, saying goodbye to their dog who had recently died of cancer. They had cremated their dog and wished to pour the ashes into the lake on which our family had a house. Accompanying them, we all took our boat out the middle of the lake and poured the ashes into the water, which floated away with the flowers we had thrown in afterwards. I remember my dad watching the ashes float and stating that this is what he wanted: when he died he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread in the lake. I am not sure he even remembers saying this, but for some reason it stuck in my memory, as I feel we rarely ever talk about what we want to happen with our bodies when they cease to live. It was surprising to my eight-year-old self that my father would even think about his own death, the way that he wished to rest in peace. I guess I had always assumed he would want to be buried, both he and my mother. Cremation had never really occurred to me as a way of treating a body after death, while it now gains popularity.
After being asked in class if we wished to be cremated or buried, or did not care what happened to our bodies, I was forced to think of my own ideas. The only thing I raised my hand for was caring about what happened to my body after death. Even though my father wished or perhaps still wishes to be cremated, the idea is a bit complicated for me to grasp. Not a religious person at all, I however cannot help to think what if. To be cremated is to transform your body into ashes; it no longer takes your own human form. While rather childish, the thought still comes through my mind, what if you can come back to life. Somebody who was cremated would not have that option, their body would no longer be in its living state. I find the idea appealing that one’s ashes can be spread in places where the body cannot be buried, however in my mind it is a sacrifice of the body’s humanity. I believe that I must mature in this area at some point and stop believing what if. For I must consider, would I really want to come back to life given the opportunity?
Why do we wear black to mourn the dead?
How does the care of the dead intertwine with one’s idea of the after life?
How do other societies compare in their care of the dead?
When and why did cremation become popular in the United States?
Why is a funeral so significant?
Why do we have funerals, wakes, and memorials, instead of just one?
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