101 years of life is an astounding accomplishment, and my great aunt came within a couple months of that. She died over ten years ago, but the story that came to me about what happened (or, more to the point, what didn’t happen) when she died is a touchstone which I consider a formative one for where I am in life, now.
I hadn’t seen her since probably the mid ‘90’s, when her husband died and I learned from other family who were closer to her that her health and vitality had declined in her final years. In fact, she’d been suffering from advanced dementia when she died.
She had a warm and friendly voice whenever she greeted me and my family, and it came with a warm, true hug, and twinkling eyes. She was a kind and dear woman who taught preschool for most of her professional life.
And my great aunt was the first person I’d ever known for whom there was no memorial service. Nothing was offered to her loved ones to help mourn her passing and celebrate her well-over-100-years of life.
When my parents conveyed this news to me, I was incredulous. And then, immediately, I was incensed.
I’d never heard of NOT doing something at the end of someone’s life! Something! Anything! … but here, her next of kin opted for… nothing?!!
When I asked why, what was relayed to me was that her next of kin felt she was so old that most people who had known her were dead already anyway, so what was the point? Hardly anyone would come!
That argument was a thin and hollow one for sure, to me. I thought to myself: What an awful and horrible conclusion to come to! The number of anticipated attendees is not what it’s about! She lived OVER 100 YEARS! That, alone, is worthy of celebration! ... And now she’s powerless to advocate for herself and her next of kin casually decides that what’s to be done is: NOTHING. Just put her in the ground and be done with it.
The absence of honoring of my aunt’s life felt like putting a big nothing in the center of my love for her and casually walking away. I felt confused, befuddled, and frustrated as I carried my memories of her next to my sadness over her death. There would be no strong place to bring and hold and share those memories. It seemed as if the memories, themselves morph into whispy nothings when I hold them in my mind alongside the nothing that happened in the wake of her death.
It’s not unlike writing a sentence and bagging out on the final period
So here’s the dose of courage I offer: talk with your friends and family about end of life ceremonies and celebrations. Ask them what ideas they have for themselves. When you attend them, save the program and scribble notes in it about what you liked and didn’t like. Remember, with love, humility, and respect, that while a memorial service is to honor someone’s memory, it’s not for them. It’s for the ones still living, for whom the ceremony is a rich and meaningful step on their grieving journey.