Good grief: Barrie Mahoney on the value of funeral planning

‘These days, we have more of a problem when dealing with death.’

‘I don’t like funerals’ and ‘I don’t like hospitals’ are two comments that I often hear. They always make me cringe, and I always feel like responding with ‘Does anyone?’. But I usually manage to bite my lip and smile. It is a truism that none of us like to dwell on illness and death, but both are a fact of life that we mostly conveniently ignore – until it hits us when we are least prepared.

George, our next-door neighbour, passed into the Light a few days ago. He was a wonderful, kind, gentle and generous man – a delight to have as a neighbour and a friend. He loved his garden and would spend many happy hours tending plants, cutting the grass, or sitting on his garden seat, sometimes with Maureen, his wife. Over the last few years, he had been suffering terribly with dementia, which reached the final stages about six months ago when he was admitted into hospital. His last few days were tormented, filled with moments of anger and violence towards family, friends, and medical staff alike.

The last time that I saw George was in his garden. He looked very disturbed, not at all like the George that I knew so well and spoke to me over the garden fence. ‘Please take me home; I need to go home.’ It took a few moments for me to realise that George was asking to be taken to his parent’s old home, a home that no longer existed except in his poor, tormented mind.

Sometimes, George would be seen wandering the streets. Occasionally, he would be collected by the police and brought home. It reached a point when he did not know his wife and son. He quickly entered a world of confusion, torment and darkness that worsened over time.

A few days ago, George’s wife, Maureen, leant over the garden fence. ‘George died yesterday,’ she said bluntly, holding back the tears. Even though we had expected this months ago, it is always a shock when death calls. I nodded, and held Maureen’s arm; she was gently shivering as she spoke, giving a detailed account of George’s final hours. I let her speak without interruption; there is little that can be said during these moments of acute misery and shock. Yes, it was probably a blessing that he avoided any further distress, but that doesn’t take away the feelings of loss and sadness.

After a few minutes, I asked ‘When is the funeral likely to be? We would like to be there.’

‘Oh no, there won’t be a funeral. George isn’t having one, and I’m not having one either. There is no point. George is gone, he won’t be there. Why should we spend all that money?’
I nodded. After a lengthy pause, I asked, ‘Will you be there at the cremation?’

‘No, the undertaker will see him off. I’ll put his ashes in the garden. I thought maybe over there,’ said Maureen briskly, pointing to a bare patch of earth in the garden.

Funerals are not for the departed, but for those left behind. Many believe that the souls of the departed are present, but no one knows for certain. The funeral serves the important purpose of helping those left behind to begin the grieving process, and to say their final goodbyes.

There is comfort in letting shared tears flow at fond memories, as well as smiling and laughing together when remembering amusing incidents and particular sayings of the departed. Perhaps a favourite piece of music will be played, a favourite hymn sung, a favourite poem or prayer read.

Sometimes, funerals are the only times that families meet after many years estranged from one another. Funerals are often occasions where bitterness, arguments, regrets and misunderstandings are finally put aside.

It is time to forgive and move on when we are reminded that none of us can escape death, and that we are all walking towards it.

No, I don’t like funerals either, but I have learned to realise how important they are in our circle of life. Yes, they are expensive and, in these times of financial hardship, the options must be carefully considered. Until the last century, burials were the usual way of dealing with the earthly remains of the departed, and cremation was often seen as the less respectful and unpleasant option. Indeed, it was only in the 1960s that the Catholic Church, for example, finally agreed to cremations as an alternative to burial.

These days, we have more of a problem when dealing with death. We are fast running out of land for burials to be freely and economically available to all who want them. Cremations are now being seen as environmentally damaging, in that they release toxic gases that cause pollution and contribute to climate change. Alternative services, such as terramation (human composting) and aquamation of bodies (alkaline hydrolysis) of the departed are now available and being promoted as suitable environmentally-preferred options to cremation.

I will miss George; our home and neighbourhood won’t be the same without him. It would have been comforting to share our grief, as well as our memories of him. I don’t need a funeral to say the things that I want to say. But I can say all that I want to say in the stillness of Meeting, or in the peaceful silence of an evening, looking onto the garden that George loved so much.

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