My brother-in-law passed away last week and we had to make an unexpected trip north. He’d been ill so the news didn’t come as a total shock, but we didn’t think it would happen right then. No one ever does. Even if your relative has been sick, you don’t think about the end. Death is too final. So began the ritual of a Jewish burial. Tradition dictates we bury the body as fast as possible, but you have to allow for out of towners to fly in and time to make all the arrangements.
On the day of the funeral, we drove in limos hired by our nephew to the funeral home (also called a funeral parlor, derived from when funerals used to take place at home). Once inside, we assembled in a private room. Immediate family members were given the choice of seeing the body. Then we hung around to receive somber dressed visitors with sad expressions who mumbled how sorry they were for our loss. As a mourner, you might want to curl up inside and reflect on your loved one and what their absence will mean in your life, but instead you’re forced to maintain your composure and survive this public ritual.
After guests were seated in the congregation, we entered and took seats in the front rows. A single bouquet of flowers graced the closed maple casket. (FYI, Jewish people send food to the house where the family will receive guests or they make donations to a favorite charity in lieu of flowers.) The Rabbi gave a lovely tribute to our beloved brother/father/husband, said some prayers and psalms, and then the children and widow took turns speaking (optional, not a requirement). Sniffles could be heard throughout the assembly. When the service completed, we filed outside and drove to the cemetery. Here we sat and/or stood shivering in the cold while more prayers were said. For a final goodbye, the casket was lowered, and family and friends took turns adding a shovel of dirt. Then we climbed back into the limos for a quiet ride to my niece’s house.
Then began the tradition of “sitting Shivah”. For Reform Jews, this is 3 days. For more religious denominations, it’s 7 days. You receive visitors, eat the food that everyone sends, and gather a “Minyon” (sp?) of at least 10 people for evening prayers. Basically we sat around, ate, and chatted for two long days. The family received deli platters (meats and cheeses), smoked fish platters (bagels and lox), various salads, fruit platters, and desserts. Someone was generous enough to send a hot meal of brisket and potatoes one night. My brother-in-law’s absence was felt but in my mind I saw his smiling face watching us.
It’s an exhausting time for the close family who has so much to deal with in a few days, including a constant flow of visitors, and yet the support helps and is greatly appreciated. It’s harder afterward, when everyone leaves and the family has to adjust to the loss in their daily routine. During this quiet but sad period of adjustment, a phone call or a sympathy card (via snail mail) is welcome. That’s when the loved one’s absence really hits, but life goes on and time marches forward. We are reminded that our turn is coming. We’d better enjoy ourselves while we can, and that’s what our dearly departed would want us to do.
My condolences.
Thanks, Mark. Life moves on.
I’m sorry to hear of your loss, Nancy. It’s never easy.
Condolences for your loss, Nancy.
My thoughts are with you during this difficult time, Nancy.
Nancy, that sounds like a beautiful tradition, and family and friends are so important. I’m sorry
My prayers are with you and your family. God bless.
Thanks, all. It really affects my husband more. We’re in Florida and his brother lived in Maryland so we didn’t see them often. The brothers talked on the phone a lot, though, and that’s what my DH misses the most.
I couldn’t help thinking during the funeral about a talk we had recently at an MWA meeting by a funeral home director. He gave us lots of useful information, probably more than we wanted to know. As a writer, all of life’s experiences are fodder for books.
I’m sorry for your loss, Nancy.
Condolences, Nancy–to Richard, as well. As difficult as customs and rituals may be, they help to cement us in the here and now. As you said, if gives us pause to remember we are all on this planet for a purpose: to live life fully, every waking moment to honor those who came before us, those with us, and those who continue on. Here’s to life!
You’re right, Kathy. Events such as these makes us appreciate life more. So what are we doing sitting at the computer all day?
All of us will die, some sooner, some later, but none escape it. While it is inevitable, we are always still hurt and usually surprised by it. I think the hardest part of death is the public mourning bit. During that period we keep having to suppress our own pain for the sake of well wishers. Sometimes it feels like everyone is intruding and falsely holding back the torrent of emotions that we want to pour out. Looking back I think that it is during that period of the minyan or prayer service rituals that the razor edge of pain is smoothed. And that once the rituals are completed, the shock of loss is softened slightly and we’re able to think more clearly. The memories of the deceased are sweeter and the transition to life with one less loved one is a little easier.
Beautifully said, Basil. Thanks for sharing those wise thoughts.
So sorry to hear this, Nancy. Even with illness as you say it’s always a shock -but rituals like yours are a wonderful way of remembering and sharing grief.
Sympathies with you, Nancy. I lost a dear friend over the holiday season. Ritual helps. Being with family and friends in remembrance is healthy.
Onward.