The first funeral I can remember attending was the funeral for my Great Grandfather. It was held in very rural North Carolina and at the house he had lived in. I was only 9. My Great Grandfather was in a wooden casket in the ‘parlor’. We kids kept tiptoeing up to take a peek at him, to be sure he hadn’t moved; we were just beginning to understand what ‘death’ meant. NOTHING about it was scary, weird or life changing.
As the family gathered, bringing tons of food & memories to share I felt safe, secure and loved by everyone there. The grownups let each child deal with looking at Granddaddy in their own way, on their own time, or even – not at all. It was explained to me by more than one grownup, that death meant we wouldn’t be able to talk to him anymore, but he would always be my great granddaddy, and he would be buried in the cemetery with all the other Parrish’s before him. With the food, family, fun and fellowship, losing my Granddaddy “BillyBuck” simply meant no more being bounced on his lap as we played with him – “Billy buck, Billy buck try your luck. How many fingers do I hold up?”.
In the world today everything related to death and dying is simply avoided until one is forced to deal with it. I think this is a terrible practice. Death is as natural as birth; we celebrate birth but avoid anything ‘death’ – that is not natural; nor is it healthy.
I just read this article by Sharon Holbrook which was published in the Washington Post on July 1, 2015. I think answers the question of kids belonging at funerals. When you’ve read it, please leave a response regarding your feelings on Children at Funerals.. Pros & Cons.
(Jamie Davis Smith)
· My kids got to see their extended family at its best and closest: telling stories, crying and laughing together, holding hands. The family was a strong, united One over those days, and we were part of that One. My children belong to something bigger than our little family of five.
· They have a chance to see their relatives as whole, complex people. They can learn to empathize, and to provide comfort, instead of seeing Nana only as the bearer of fun and gifts. She had a Daddy too. It was hard for my children to see her sad, but it was also inspiring to see her strength.
· Children provide hope. Immediately before the funeral, we made our last prayers at the casket and gave Great-Grandma hugs. As my wide-eyed 4-year-old tumbled towards her for an embrace, Great-Grandma exclaimed, “Precious girl!” and she meant it. Sometimes we need to see something whole and young and perfect when there is sadness all around us, and that’s what a (well-behaved) preschooler can offer at a funeral.
· They don’t need to be protected — usually. Kids know about crying. Many of them do it every day. Usually we want them to stop, because it’s uncomfortable for us, and we very badly want our children to be happy. But hard feelings are important too, and we can learn to guide kids through feeling sorrow and discomfort and coming out okay on the other side of those emotions. I would think carefully before bringing my children to an especially tragic funeral, perhaps one for a child or a young parent – something that could be truly frightening – but the funeral of an older relative? This sadness they can manage, and it will strengthen them.
· They need practice with funerals. Nobody likes them, but they have to happen. Wakes and funerals can be foreign territory with their singular requirements for etiquette, dress, and behavior. Better to get practice early, when it’s someone the child isn’t as close to, than to layer a sea of funeral-manners confusion on top of truly deep mourning. Just a few months ago, my kids stopped with us at the wake of a quiet, kind man our family knew from church, just to quickly pay our respects. The children didn’t really know Elmer, but they learned what to do and say, and because we’d gone to his viewing, Great-Grandpa’s body wasn’t the first one they’d seen in an open casket.
· In learning about death, children learn to treasure human life. My kids’ normal experience with death is throwing a dead tree in a brush pile or squashing ants on our kitchen floor. Perhaps some families also have small goodbyes for beloved pets. But the elaborate ceremony and seriousness of human funerals says something else: This is different, and this is big. We are not trees or ants. In respectful loss, we pass to children a reverence for the irreplaceable gift of each human life.
· Funerals connect generations, past and future. Great-Grandpa was a World War II veteran, and uniformed Navy came to his graveside and performed a beautifully moving flag ceremony. It ended with a presentation of the flag to Great-Grandma, and the heart-stopping words: “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Navy, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.” Afterwards, I reminded my 9-year-old that in 80 years, he will be able to tell his grandchildren the story of honoring his great-grandpa who served in that important, tragic war that will then be 150 years past. He was just as awed as he should have been by this fact.
It’s not easy going to funerals, nor taking kids to them. *But it is not our job to make our children’s lives easy, and it is our job to parent and guide through the hard things too. You can do it, and so can they.
*NOTE: Something I say consistently. (Patricia Bondor aka Diva of Death)