My dad’s funeral in the Philippines showed me it’s OK to party the pain away

— When my father died suddenly of a heart attack, I was thrust into an unfamiliar world of grieving

Jim Agapito, left, and his father, Simeon Agapito, being mall rats in 2017.

by Jim Agapito

After his father’s sudden death while on vacation in the Philippines, Jim Agapito rushed to his funeral. But when he arrived from Canada, he was thrown into an unfamiliar world where his sombre understanding of mourning was replaced by superstition and festivities.

It took three days to get to my dad’s funeral in the Philippines because of a chaotic string of flights and cancellations: Winnipeg to Vancouver, Vancouver to Tokyo and Tokyo to Manila. When I landed, it took another four-hour drive to my mom’s home in a small, rural area called Jaen, Nueva Ecija.

I was tired and devastated. When I saw the coffin, all I wanted to do was burst into tears. But I couldn’t.

Crying on the coffin is bad luck, I heard in my mind. It’s what I had been told again and again by my Filipino family, who were all intent on observing Filipino customs and superstitions for my dad’s journey from the living to the afterlife

Imagine that. You rush halfway around the world to grieve your father’s death but don’t cry on the coffin because it could curse both of you.

I thought, Rest his soul, Dad is already dead. Who would be getting the bad luck?

I felt torn standing before his coffin, surrounded by family and friends who seemed to be keeping it together. On the inside, I was a wreck, and I just wanted to grieve for my father the only way I knew how. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be sad. I wanted to be alone with my mom and my brother.

But in the Philippines, there’s an unwritten but important rule: No one grieves alone, and it’s the family’s duty to create a happy atmosphere for grieving loved ones. Even if that means karaoke.

A smiling man with shoulder-length hair puts his arms around a smiling woman and a smiling bald man. They’re all standing in a mall.
Agapito, centre, with his mom Yolanda Agapito, left, and dad Simeon Agapito, right, grabbing coffee in 2018 in Winnipeg.

Fulfilling my father’s dream

This push and pull of how to grieve was a shock because it had been 34 years since I’d been to the Philippines. I was born in Canada and visited my parents’ homeland only once when I was nine.

After they retired, my parents split their time each year between the Philippines and Winnipeg. Dad was in the Philippines for Christmas when he suddenly died of a heart attack.

It was my dad’s wish that my older brother and I would explore this country he loved so much. And there I was, fulfilling his dream under the worst circumstances imaginable.

I’ve been exploring my Filipino culture through a podcast I host called Recovering Filipino. I delve into everything from why we as a community love basketball so much to what’s the obsession with sweet spaghetti.

But all of that exploration and learning didn’t quite prepare me for this deep dive into Filipino customs surrounding death.

A different way of grieving

Funeral parlours are expensive in the Philippines and there is no refrigeration for the body.

Instead, my dad’s coffin was placed in the living room of my family’s home. A home that consisted of my entire extended family — Lola (grandma,) three aunts, three uncles, five cousins and their children.

The house is big, but it’s also in a rural environment and a farm. As a city-slicker living in Winnipeg, It wasn’t like any of the Manitoban farms I went to on school trips in grade school. Our family home in the Philippines was an open door. It felt like every cat and dog in the neighbourhood roamed in the house, and goats and chickens roamed the yard. My family had to rearrange their living space based on burial tradition and superstition to accommodate the funeral. People argued about the proper procedures for mourning and how the donation box should be presented (one aunt said it has to be covered in a certain way or it’s bad luck).

Two men dressed in formal wear stand next to a woman. An older woman in a wheelchair is next to the trio. The group is standing next to an open coffin surrounded by white flowers.
Agapito, centre back, with his mother Yolanda, Lola (Epifania Bulaong) and brother Mark Agapito grieving by Simeon’s casket at Yolanda’s home in Jaen, Nueva Ecija, Philippines.

When my extended family gave their condolences and tried to talk to me, it would go in one ear and out the other. It felt like there were too many people surrounding me, and there was an expectation to entertain the guests who came for the funeral. It was a nightmare.

Dad’s funeral also coincided with Christmas. Christmas to Filipinos is like the Super Bowl of holidays. It’s the absolute biggest event of the year. Everyone is celebrating.

I was unprepared for this highly superstitious, party-the-pain-away take on mourning.

After the funeral service, we had a party to celebrate my dad’s life. Filipinos don’t believe the family should be alone and sad; it’s the job of the guests to make sure the family will be OK.

The party atmosphere was hard for me to stomach. I felt guilty for having fun after my dad died. I thought about locking myself in a room and just crying. In fact, I did try doing that at first but it’s something my family wouldn’t let me do.

Instead, they took me to shopping malls, public markets and to eat all the sugar and fried chicken my body could inhale. There was dancing, there was karaoke singing, and they even took me to ride ATVs and hold snakes at an agriculture and off-road park.

Initially, it was uncomfortable and strange to mourn like this, but I soon realized that being surrounded by family in this way actually made the initial grieving process easier.

A man holds a large brown snake around his shoulders and in his arms.
Agapito holds a Burmese python while visiting the Philippines for his dad’s funeral in December 2023.

Even the dead aren’t left alone.

Filipinos believe the body must have company so that the person can go to heaven peacefully. They believe mourners must stay with the body for at least three days so the person’s soul knows they’re dead but they have family to support them on their journey to the afterlife. It’s called the Lamay or wake.

Although many people I met in the Philippines for the funeral were strangers to me, they showed me that my dad always made people feel like they were not alone.

“You’re probably unaware, but your dad was why I could attend college,” one of my cousins told me. He helped pay for that cousin’s tuition for several years.

I heard so many stories like this.

Dad’s body wasn’t cremated with the casket. Initially, this made me angry. It felt like he was being cheated somehow. But then my mom told me, “We didn’t burn the coffin so it could be donated to a family. People here are poor. It’s something your dad would have wanted.”

Several adults and children pose for a group photo in a park. One of the women in the group is holding balloons that say “70.”
Once called a ‘bad Filipino’ by his lola (grandma), Agapito, second from left with the rest of his family, has been on a cultural recovery mission to learn more about his roots.

A different type of loss

I see now that my dad was a guy who loved living life. He liked to have a good time, so celebrating his life with laughter, singing and dancing made sense.

But how do I reconcile that with my understanding of mourning?

Back home in Canada, I often think about the time with my family in the Philippines. They helped me get through a lot of difficult times when the crushing weight of my dad’s death left me paralyzed and speechless. They taught me it’s OK to let loose and have fun.

It’s been hard being back in Canada. I feel so alone. I don’t have the warm and fuzzy security blanket of the family to grab me when I feel sad. But my mom reminds me that all of them, including her, are just a video message away.

Complete Article HERE!

Sky burials to consuming the deceased’s remains

— Strange funeral rituals from across the world

Funeral rituals, deeply rooted in cultural and religious practices, offer a profound glimpse into the diversity of human traditions. While many share common elements of grief and remembrance, some cultures have unique and, at times, peculiar funeral customs that might seem strange to outsiders. Exploring these distinctive rituals unveils a rich tapestry of beliefs surrounding death and the afterlife. From celebratory ceremonies to unconventional burial practices, the world’s funeral traditions reflect the intricate ways in which societies cope with loss and commemorate the departed

Hanging Coffins in Sagada, Philippines:​

In the mountainous region of Sagada in the Philippines, some indigenous communities practice the tradition of hanging coffins. Instead of burying their dead, they place coffins on cliffs or in caves. This practice is believed to bring the deceased closer to ancestral spirits and protect them from being taken by animals.

Fantasy Coffins in Ghana:​

In Ghana, a unique funeral tradition involves the creation of fantasy coffins that reflect the deceased person’s occupation or interests. Shaped like objects such as animals, cars, or even shoes, these vibrant and elaborate coffins celebrate the individual’s life and legacy. The belief is that these custom coffins will assist the deceased in the afterlife.

Sky Burials in Tibet:​

In Tibet, the sky burial is a unique funeral practice rooted in Tibetan Buddhist beliefs. The deceased’s body is taken to a designated site, typically atop a mountain. There, the body is left exposed to the elements, allowing vultures to consume it. This ritual symbolizes the cycle of life and death and is seen as a way of offering the body back to nature.

Self-Mummification in Japan:​

A sect of Buddhist monks in Japan, known as the Shingon, practiced a form of self-mummification called sokushinbutsu. Monks adhering to this ritual would slowly starve themselves while consuming a special diet that included toxic tree sap. This process aimed to achieve enlightenment and transform the monk’s body into a mummy, symbolizing a bridge between the physical and spiritual realms.

Endocannibalism of the Fore People, Papua New Guinea:​

The Fore people of Papua New Guinea were known for a ritualistic practice called endocannibalism. In response to their belief that consuming the deceased’s remains would strengthen their ties with the spirit world, the Fore would eat small portions of the deceased person’s body. This practice was largely abandoned due to the spread of kuru, a neurological disease linked to cannibalism.

​Famadihana in Madagascar:​

Famadihana, or the turning of the bones, is a Malagasy funeral tradition where families exhume the remains of their ancestors for a joyous celebration. The bones are wrapped in new burial cloths, and a festive gathering ensues, complete with music, dancing, and feasting. This ritual reflects the belief that the spirits of the deceased are still present and part of the community.

Complete Article HERE!

Digital afterlife

– How to deal with social media accounts when someone dies

Untangling digital interactions after someone dies is becoming increasingly complicated.

Deciding what to do with a dead friend or relative’s online presence is complicated and time-consuming but there are shortcuts

By

Gavin Blomeley was lucky his mother was incredibly organised before she died. She left a note that included the passcode to her phone and access to all her online passwords.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this could have gotten not having these passwords or knowing this note with all of her passwords existed,” Blomeley says.

“In the note, my mum had an alphabetised, formula-based logic to all her passwords including banking, pensions, social media – everything.”

Untangling the web of someone’s online life after they die creates additional stress on top of grief and funeral planning, and it is getting increasingly complicated as more and more daily tasks are carried out online. There are bank accounts, email accounts, online bills and streaming subscriptions, as well as various social media accounts to consider.

There is no one-stop-shop or single method to memorialise or delete accounts. Some companies, including Google, are now deleting accounts after two years of inactivity but there is no consistency across platforms.

“Facebook, in some ways, is probably actually pretty progressive and a leader in this space,” says Bjorn Nansen, a digital media researcher in the “death tech” team at the University of Melbourne.

“Over time, they’ve developed their policies; you can nominate a legacy contact, so that when you pass away that person … can follow your wishes, and either close your account or memorialise it.”

Nansen says other platforms don’t have the same policy.

“You just have to follow the same old workarounds, which is, you leave your passwords to somebody and your wishes as to what you want to be done with the accounts and content. Often, you’re breaching the terms of service.”

He says it is getting more complicated with the advent of two-factor authentication using biometrics to ensure that only the account holder can access the account.

Nansen says online companies should make the process easier but increasingly people are including directives in their will and this is likely to increase over time as baby boomers die.

“We’re entering a period that’s been referred to as ‘peak death’. The baby boomer bubble means there’s going to be a high volume of deaths and it’s always going to be the next generation that’s going to have to deal with it … it will make awareness of the issue wider and may help bring around change.”

Standards Australia says about 60% of Australian adults have made a will but not all of those have accounted for their digital legacy.

The nongovernment standards body is part of a group of organisations from 35 countries proposing core principles and guidelines for how organisations should manage the process when a relative or executor requests access to an account of someone who has died.

Adam Stingemore, general manager of engagement and communications at Standards Australia, says that means developing a common set of definitions that companies can then build into terms of service.

“The worst time to be dealing with a challenge like this is if you know someone in your family has died, and there’s a feud between parties,” he says. “What we want to do is get ahead of that on these different types of platforms. There’s common sets of questions and people can make choices about what happens to their data and assets.”

Nansen says another factor is the privacy of the person who has died, and whether they want personal messages and content to be seen by family members or deleted.

“There’s complexity and nuance,” he says. “You might have emails, you might have messages, you might have photos, you might have videos that for a whole range of reasons you might want deleted or not want certain people to see.

“If you really want to be thorough, it’s not just providing access and instructions to a digital executor; it might be quite detailed instructions about different platforms and different content.”

Blomeley says his best advice is to ensure power of attorney is arranged beforehand, and access to accounts included as part of a regulated will.< He says the process of shutting down his mother’s accounts was time-consuming, despite having all the passwords. It took several weeks to sort out, through the grief of losing his mother. “Thankfully, we were all in a position where we were able to take time off work … but I can imagine this being much more complicated for certain individuals, based on varying circumstances.” Complete Article HERE!

Vatican Museums Open Ancient Roman Necropolis To The Public For The First Time

— A Fascinating Addition to the Vatican City Museums

The Vatican Museums, located within the awe-inspiring Vatican City, are renowned worldwide for their vast collections of art and historical artifacts. Serving as a beacon for art enthusiasts and history buffs alike, these museums offer a unique glimpse into the grandeur of the Catholic Church and its rich cultural heritage. However, a recent development has taken place that has further enhanced the allure of the Vatican City Museums. The Vatican Museums have now opened an ancient Roman necropolis to the public for the first time. This exciting addition allows visitors to journey even further back in time, exploring the intriguing burial practices and customs of ancient Romans. Let’s delve deeper into this newfound treasure and dive into the wonders of the Vatican Museums.

Delving into the Vatican City Museums: A Haven of Art and History

The Vatican City Museums have long been regarded as a treasure trove of masterpieces. With an extensive collection spanning various epochs and artistic styles, these museums grant a mesmerizing experience of the pinnacle of human creativity. Every year, millions of visitors flock to marvel at the Sistine Chapel, the monumental Saint Peter’s Basilica, and the breathtaking Raphael Rooms. However, until recently, the Vatican Museums had yet to unveil an untapped gem within their vast complex: an ancient Roman necropolis.

Journalists visit an ancient necropolis along the via triumphalis, an archaeological area containing a Roman burial ground during the presentation to the press of the new entrance to the site at the Vatican, Tuesday, Nov. 14, 2023. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Unearthing the Past: The Roman Necropolis of the Vatican

Located below the Vatican City, the Roman necropolis offers visitors a unique opportunity to immerse themselves in ancient history. The term“necropolis” derives from ancient Greek, meaning“city of the dead,” and refers to the burial grounds used by ancient civilizations. These necropolises hold immense historical and archaeological value, shedding light on aspects of daily life, beliefs, and burial practices of the people who lived during those times. The Roman necropolis beneath the Vatican City encapsulates this sentiment and offers an intriguing insight into the lives of ancient Romans.

From Tombstone to Time Machine: Exploring the Roman Necropolis

As visitors embark on their journey through the Roman necropolis, they will be transported back in time through a series of well-preserved burial chambers and tombs. The necropolis spans several centuries and allows visitors to witness the evolution of burial practices, from simple chambers to elaborate mausoleums adorned with intricate artwork. The subterranean network of tunnels and chambers showcases the diversity of tombs, offering a glimpse into the social structure and beliefs of ancient Roman society.

A mosaic is displayed inside an ancient necropolis along the via triumphalis, an archaeological area containing a Roman burial ground during the presentation to the press of the new entrance to the site at the Vatican, Tuesday, Nov. 14, 2023.

Unveiling the Ancient Art of Funeral Rites

The Roman necropolis is not only a testament to the architectural brilliance of the ancient world; it is a showcase of the artistry and reverence held for the deceased. Visitors will discover beautifully carved sculptures and intricate tomb decorations, depicting scenes from mythology and capturing the essence of the departed individuals’ lives. Elaborate frescoes, mosaics, and inscriptions add depth and texture to the necropolis, unveiling the customs, traditions, and spiritual beliefs associated with funeral rites.

Roman Necropolis: A Portal to the Past

For centuries, the Roman necropolis has remained hidden beneath the Vatican, preserved in remarkable condition. Now, with its doors opened to the public, visitors have the opportunity to traverse an underground time capsule. Walking through the narrow passageways, visitors can ponder the stories of those who lived centuries ago, imagining the lives they led and the legacy they left behind. It is an experience that not only piques curiosity but also fosters a profound understanding of our shared human history.

Preservation Challenges: Balancing Access and Conservation

The decision to open the Roman necropolis to the public was undoubtedly a challenging one. Preservation efforts need to strike a balance between providing public access and ensuring the ongoing conservation of these invaluable ancient artifacts. The Vatican Museums have vigilantly implemented measures to protect the necropolis, including environmental controls, regular maintenance, and visitor limits. This delicate equilibrium ensures that future generations can continue to enjoy and learn from this extraordinary archaeological site.

The Power of Immersive Education: Learning through Exploration

By offering access to the Roman necropolis, the Vatican Museums enrich the educational experience for visitors of all ages. Instead of merely observing artifacts from a distance, visitors can now actively engage with history, fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation for ancient Roman culture. The opportunity to explore these hidden chambers and decipher the stories they hold creates a sense of wonder and ignites a desire for further exploration and learning.

A Glimpse into the Past

The Vatican Museums’ decision to open the ancient Roman necropolis to the public provides a remarkable opportunity to step back in time and immerse oneself in the mysteries of ancient Rome. This newly accessible site adds another layer of fascination to the already captivating Vatican City Museums. As visitors traverse the subterranean corridors and stand before monumental tombs, they can forge a connection with the past, appreciating the richness and complexity of ancient Roman culture. We can only hope that this extraordinary archaeological treasure will continue to be preserved and shared for generations to come, allowing future visitors to be inspired by the wonders of the Roman necropolis.

Complete Article HERE!

How we remember the dead by their digital afterlives

— A broad-ranging analysis asks whether we can achieve a kind of immortality by documenting our lives and deaths online.


Through virtual reality, people can interact with avatars of loved ones.

By Margaret Gibson

The Digital Departed: How We Face Death, Commemorate Life, and Chase Virtual Immortality Timothy Recuber NYU Press (2023)

Many of us will have turned to the Internet to grieve and remember the dead — by posting messages on the Facebook walls of departed friends, for instance. Yet, we should give more thought to how the dead and dying themselves exert agency over their online presence, argues US sociologist Timothy Recuber in The Digital Departed.

In his expansive scholarly analysis, Recuber examines more than 2,000 digital texts, from blog posts by those who are terminally ill to online suicide notes and pre-prepared messages designed to be e-mailed to loved ones after someone has died. As he notes, “the digital data in this book are sad, to be sure, and they have often brought me to tears as I collected and analyzed them”. Yet, they are well worth delving into.

Recuber brings a fresh lens to studies of death culture by focusing on the feelings and intentions of the people who are dying, rather than those of the mourners. For example, he finds that a person’s sense of self can be altered through blogging about their illness. Writing freely helps people to come to terms with their deaths by making their suffering “legible and understandable”. Reflections on family and friends also reveal a sense of self-transformation. Indeed, many bloggers “attested to the positive value of the experience of a terminal illness, for the way it brought them closer to loved ones and especially for the wisdom it generated.”

This theme of self-transformation, which Recuber refers to as ‘digital reenchantment’, continues throughout the book. This terminology relates to the work of German sociologist Max Weber, who, at the turn of the twentieth century, argued that humans’ increasing ability to understand the world through science was robbing life of magic and mystery — a process he called disenchantment. When the dead seem to be resurrected through digital media, Recuber argues, they regain that mystery.

Recuber explores how X (formerly Twitter) hashtags can act as a form of collective online rememberance. He focuses on photos and stories shared in posts that use two hashtags, sparked by violent deaths of Black people in the United States: #IfIDieInPoliceCustody, in response to Sandra Bland’s death in prison in Waller County, Texas, in July 2015, and #IfTheyGunnedMeDown, which remembers Michael Brown, who was shot by police in Ferguson, Missouri, in August 2014. The “thousands of individual micro-narratives” posted in these threads, Recuber writes, amount to a “collectively composed story affirming the value of all Black lives and legacies”. They are memorials for the lives that have already been lost and for those that might be in future.

The author considers the perspectives of the individuals whose deaths inspired each hashtag. For example, 28-year-old Bland was imprisoned after being arrested for a driving offence. Friends and family questioned the police’s assertion that Bland had committed suicide, and #IfIDieInPoliceCustody was tweeted 16,500 times in its first week, as the result of the online attention that the case gained. What would Bland and Brown think of this coverage, Recuber asks? They might have been proud of this legacy, but they had no say in it. In a sense they are “doubly victimized”, he suggests, losing not only their lives but also “the agency to define themselves and the ways they’d like to be remembered”.

In the book’s most intriguing section, Recuber turns to transhumanism — the idea that, some time in the future, advanced technologies yet to be imagined could enable digital records of the human mind to be uploaded to the Internet. A person’s consciousness could then ‘live’ online forever.

Recuber interviews four men who lead companies that are helping people to preserve digital aspects of themselves or that are otherwise concerned with transhumanism. Bruce Duncan runs the Lifenaut project, part of the non-profit Terasem Movement Foundation, based in Bristol, Vermont, which allows users to create a digital archive of their reflections, photos and genetic code for future researchers to study. Eric Klien is the president and founder of the Lifeboat Foundation, a non-governmental organization based in Reno, Nevada, which is devoted to overcoming catastrophic and existential risks to humans, including from misuse of technologies. Robert McIntyre is the chief executive of Nectome, based in San Francisco, California, which works on techniques for embalming brains for future information retrieval. And Randal Koene is the chief scientific officer of the Carboncopies Foundation, based in San Francisco, a research organization that works on whole-brain emulation — a “neuroprosthetic system that is able to serve the same function as the brain”.

A man works on a laptop whose screen is covered in rectangular icons.
Artificial-intelligence firms are working to develop digital replicas of the dead.

According to Recuber, none could give a clear explanation for how mind uploading would work. That’s not surprising — neuroscientists are divided on whether it is even possible. But each interviewee had faith that it would become a possibility. Koene wonders whether uploaded minds might find a home in some kind of robotic body. Duncan and McIntyre imagine a disembodied human consciousness able to travel through space and visit other planets or stars.

Yet, Recuber was troubled to find that these men said very little about the social and ethical questions raised by mind uploading. Building a ‘superior’ type of human has a “whiff of eugenics” about it, he writes. The whole process would be expensive, perhaps creating a future division in social classes, with only the rich able to afford it. Duncan and Koene pointed out that this might not be true in the future — the prices of technologies, such as smartphones and data-storage units, tend to fall quite quickly.

Recuber does find people raising ethical concerns on the online discussion platform Reddit, where he examined more than 900 posts about transhumanism. One user was appalled that “the richest and most comfortable people in history spent their money and resources trying to live forever on the backs of their descendants”. But philosophical debates are much more popular, such as whether the uploaded disembodied mind would be equivalent to or superior to one’s own.

Transhumanism, Recuber notes, is working towards a very different type of online legacy from those discussed elsewhere in his book; it is focused not on strengthening ties with humanity but on cutting them. This idea of moving beyond mortal biological limits — gaining immortality through science and technology — is an old dream in a new guise. For religious people, the immortal substance is the soul; for transhumanists, it is the mind.

It is in these critiques of transhumanism that Recuber is at his sociological best. His astute comments exemplify a second theme of The Digital Departed — that inequalities that persist in the physical world are mirrored in peoples’ online lives. He cautions the public about narratives that promote technological progress as necessarily good. Despite the rhetoric of liberation through technological progress, we all must remain wary. There are no guarantees that mind uploading will be properly regulated, or benefit those in need. Mortal problems such as food and water shortages and human violence, as well as the lack of housing and health care, have greater priority in my view.

It is a shame, however, that the book ignores feminist perspectives on transhumanism. These contend that ideas of the soul or mind in philosophy have historically operated as a gender hierarchy — men and the masculine are considered primordial, whereas women and the feminine are treated as secondary, linked to the body and the mortal realm. Transhumanism will not benefit women or gender-diverse people unless it engages with its own inherited systems of thought and narrative.

Nonetheless, The Digital Departed is a valuable book that presents many moving stories about the way that our digital life foreshadows our biological departure. The author’s engagement with classical and modern sociological theory will be appreciated by scholars and appeal to readers of all stripes.

Complete Article HERE!

Funeral Planning Can Prevent Further Grief

— Losing a loved one is stressful enough without having to deal with a botched funeral. Preplanning, due diligence and good communication can head off difficult surprises.

By

When a loved one dies, the grief experienced by family members may be overwhelming. Even when the deceased was elderly and the death was expected, it can be challenging to move forward with funeral planning and burial preparations. Imagine how much more difficult it can be for a family who loses a loved one unexpectedly.

Horror stories about unscrupulous funeral homes have been front-page fodder for more than a century – see Jessica Mitford’s 1963 book American Way of Death – and I have personally handled more of these cases than I care to think about. When people are dealing with the death of someone close to them, the last thing they should be dealing with is a botched funeral.

Despite strong consumer protection laws and the licensing of funeral home directors, it is still possible to experience bad service from a funeral home. But with good information and careful planning, family members should have their moment to pay their respects with dignity.

Preplanned Funerals Present Best Scenario

The best scenario is, of course, a preplanned funeral. The deceased has either made arrangements in advance or has left written instructions about how things should be handled. The directive clearly outlines the steps to be taken by loved ones, saving them from having to make those decisions following the death.

It sounds simple and straightforward, but it is not always so simple. Family members owe it to the deceased – and to themselves – to ensure that the provider chosen by the deceased a year or a decade ago is still in business and reputable. Just because the directive names a specific funeral home does not mean that survivors are obligated to entrust the remains to that home. If the named funeral home raises concerns for the family (more about this below), it is far better to move forward with a different funeral home, despite the deceased’s wishes.

Due Diligence When Looking for a Funeral Home Can Head Off Surprises

If the deceased failed to make funeral plans in advance, or if the family believes plans must be changed because of new information they’ve received about the designated funeral home, the process of shopping for a good funeral home begins. It isn’t like shopping for a car: There are no lemon laws or do-overs if they get it wrong. Once a contract for funeral or burial services has been signed and the funeral home has taken possession of a body, it may be impossible to back out of the commitment. Therefore, the more due diligence done beforehand, the better everyone should sleep. 

It starts with doing basic research. Read customer reviews. Check for complaints with the Better Business Bureau and state licensing agencies. Look at county records to see if there is a history of lawsuits against the funeral home. The more you know up front, the fewer surprises there should be down the line.

Then meet with representatives of the funeral home to learn about their services. Every funeral home is obligated to provide prospective customers with a menu of choices before having them sign an agreement. If the funeral home staff try to sell you a package, or you feel in any way pressured to make a choice before you have seen their menu, leave the premises and look for another provider.

Don’t Hesitate to Ask Questions and Keep Lines of Communication Open

Ask questions before signing anything. Find out whether the home has received a death certificate for the deceased and, if not, how long it should take to get a certificate following an autopsy or medical examiner’s review. If there will be a cremation, consider asking the home whether they can preserve the body so that it can be viewed prior to the cremation. Make sure you feel comfortable that the funeral home will honor the deceased’s wishes, if preplanning was done, or that they understand and will honor your wishes if no advance directive was created by the deceased.

After you’ve signed an agreement with the funeral home on the package you’ve chosen, the ball is essentially in the funeral home’s court. It will be extremely difficult to undo things if you’re unhappy with its work. Even though there is nothing left for you to do other than wait for the work to be completed, expect to have ongoing communications with the home.

The funeral home should continue to be available to answer your questions, and it should be keeping you apprised of its progress with your case. If you believe that something has not been done correctly, or you have other concerns about the services being performed, representatives of the home should be willing to meet with you to discuss these issues.

Reporting Issues to the Proper Agencies

Unfortunately, even with the best of planning, things can go wrong. If you believe that a funeral home has handled things improperly or violated your trust, you can and should report it to the proper agencies. At the federal level, this would be the Federal Trade Commission. At the state level, it will likely be the appropriate licensing board for the industry. You can also reach out to nonprofit groups such as Funeral Consumers Alliance or the Funeral Consumer Guardian Society.

If you have suffered emotional distress or other injury as a result of a funeral home’s actions, contact an attorney who has experience with these types of cases. The consumer organizations named above may be able to provide referrals.

Complete Article HERE!

‘A good send-off’

— Why food plays a major role in Irish wakes and funerals

Irish funerals and wakes since ancient times have always highlighted the importance of food, feasting and hospitality

By

As one of those who lost an elderly parent during the pandemic, we were unable to give the appropriate ‘send-off’ to a member of the older generation who would have fully expected one. I found myself at one stage mechanically making two sliced pans worth of sandwiches in my late mother’s kitchen, forgetting there would be no mourners coming to serve them to due to lockdown restrictions.

This brought into sharp focus the real function of funeral hospitality: without visitors to share the food with, my immediate family lacked the impetus – or the appetite – and the food was thrown out days later. It’s the rituals that help make a funeral. Often we don’t know why, but we enact them in the knowledge that it’s what we’re supposed to do. Without the anchor of a set of traditions to follow, the days around a funeral, difficult enough to navigate with grief, felt even more rudderless at the height of Covid.

Providing appropriate provisions for guests was a deep seated concept in Ireland. Under the Brehon laws, a householder was required to offer food and lodging to any traveller passing through. The higher a guest’s social status, the higher level of hospitality they expected to receive.

Later, great funeral feasts were held for Gaelic chieftains where the new heir marked his succession by providing ceremonial meals for mourners. These funeral banquets were as much about the heir’s generosity for appearances’ sake. Lavish hospitality could help advance a family in Gaelic society by demonstrating prestige and power.

Stakes were high, and guests with elevated expectations could be quite judgemental about what was on offer. Guests attending funerals expected good food and drink to be served. Traditionally, mourners were provided with food and drink to provide sustenance while they sat up with the corpse through all-night wakes. Partaking of hospitality was one of many rituals that, once enacted during this liminal period, was another stage in signifying the soul of the deceased passing over into the next realm.

Perhaps therein lies the roots of Irish generosity in such circumstances: legislated in old Irish law and as a concept in tradition, it became innate in folk custom that it was right and proper to offer appropriate hospitality. It was also considered ‘unlucky to refuse’, and the superstitious time around a funeral was not one where people took their chances with luck.

By the early 20th century, bestowing hospitality despite humble circumstances was a key tenet of Irish identity. James Joyce wrote, albeit ironically, that “the tradition of genuine warm-hearted courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed down to us and which we in turn must hand down to our descendants, is still alive among us.” The idea that generous hospitality must be extended continues to be key in most Irish celebrations and feasting today. Being conscious of appearances and not wanting to let the side down or being seen as ‘stingy’ can lead to the often-extravagant spread at Irish gatherings.

The multi-use table

From the post Famine period and into living memory, the ‘feasts’ that maintained formal dining seated at tables were wedding breakfasts and harvest feasts. Funeral catering involved simple food usually served ‘in the hand’ or passed around to mourners informally seated while conversing. These would have been much humbler than the medieval banquets of old.

Late 19th century traditional Irish kitchen table, still in use in the O’Brien homestead in Kilbrittain Co Cork.

At Irish wakes throughout the 19th century, sitting at the kitchen table for hospitality was off-limits, because that piece of furniture was a focal point for reasons other than food. The kitchen table or ‘bord’ might alternatively contain an altar or the corpse itself. When laid out and ready to view on the table the corpse was termed ‘over board’. According to the funeral director David McGowan, this term persisted into living memory.

In earlier times at wakes, the long wooden stretchers underneath the tabletop might be where the corpse was laid out, while the tabletop was used as an altar. Most families would have lacked appropriate furniture to serve the large number of mourners in a formal manner, and neighbours often loaned furniture and crockery.

‘Wake provisions’

As one of the key events in Irish life, guests not only fully expected ‘a good spread’ at a funeral but it had also been also keenly anticipated by the deceased that they would have, and be given, a ‘good send off’. In the more recent past, even the poorest people saved money so that their funeral could be catered suitably.

At a time of frugal diets, dominated by potatoes and buttermilk, a funeral offered a chance to feast on treats: tea with sugar, bread with jam, a glass of whiskey, good tobacco. These were key on the shopping list known as the ‘wake provisions’.

A wake provisions list from 1912 in the Clay Pipe Museum, Knockcroghery, Co Roscommon.

The custom was that male relatives of the deceased were responsible for going to the local grocer to collect this. The men had to do this in pairs, to have another to-hand for protection from any evil spirits at a potentially dangerous spiritual time. The wake provisions included clay pipes and tobacco, alcohol such as porter and whiskey, along with tea, shop-bought white bread, jam, sugar and meat.

In the past, wakes and funerals, along with fairs and pilgrimages, were large gatherings that allowed a usually dispersed rural community to come together. Many wakes were places for young people to stay up late and socialise, and some wake games facilitated flirtation and courtship. In addition, the serving of treats and alcohol gave a party atmosphere that along with some of the ‘heathen’ customs involved drew the ire of the Catholic Church.

Funeral hospitality today

Although many customs have died out, the funeral in Ireland retains an importance as a collective event, and one where hospitality remains important. Today, this is more formal, invite-only and restrained when compared to the past, when mourners would simply turn up at the house when they heard keening begin. Wakes are now often denoted as ‘house private’ or take place, carefully regulated, in funeral homes.

Any home catering is usually informally served tea and triangle-cut sandwiches, (egg mayonnaise, or ham, or cheese for vegetarians) along with cakes and scones. Church services are followed by cremation or burial, and the ‘afters’ now usually take place at a hotel, where that intrinsic Irish hospitality is remnant in the form of a sit-down meal for invited guests.

Post Celtic Tiger, Irish hotels have become the real engines behind the hospitality for life events that once took place in the home: funerals, weddings, and other celebrations. Hotels and their staff can offer a fascinating lens through which to observe contemporary Irish customs and rituals.

One Irish chef I spoke to observed that ‘hotel’ funerals are not as big as other such events, guests do not linger long and there is a reluctance to take alcohol as many are driving. “From what I’ve witnessed, formal sit-down [funeral] meals are a much quieter affair where people don’t really know how to ‘be’“.

The formalities therefore tend to stifle the atmosphere. The wish to offer substantial hospitality to guests, versus what the guests might actually prefer, and the struggle to figure out what is appropriate these days – food truck? Barbeque? – is a particularly modern Irish conundrum, and one that might be solved by a return to slightly more traditional rituals.

Sean Moncrieff recently wrote of the comfort of funeral food from a mourner’s point of view, and how it is an evocative part of the grieving process. From the point of view of the bereaved, serving and interacting with guests (be it at a wake house or hotel) offers a welcome fleeting distraction from grief. It gently encourages eating and engagement at a time when the stomach feels hollow. To this day, wherever the location, offering and partaking of hospitality, and ritually sharing and consuming, all continues to be an essential part of the Irish funeral tradition, and will continue to be in whatever form it takes in the future.

Complete Article HERE!