Why I Go to Funerals

I grew up in the heart of the Bible Belt, in a county that, thirty years ago, barely scraped the corner of metro-Atlanta. It’s the kind of place where everyone goes to church on Sunday, waves an American flag, drinks sweet tea, and takes their second amendment rights seriously.  My dad is also a Baptist deacon and choir director. All of these factors set me up for some spot-on stereotypes: 

1. I can quickly discern a good casserole from a bad one in the homecoming buffet line. 
2. I know the difference between culottes and walking shorts and have owned both. 
3. It might be an even split between hours I spent at church and hours I spent at home during my childhood.  
4. I know the words to each stanza of “There’s Power in the Blood,” “Victory in Jesus,” “I’ll Fly Away,” and “Just as I Am.” 
5. I’ve been to a lot of funerals. 

While going to funerals is probably written into a Baptist deacon’s job description, it is also written into our DNA as a family. My grandmothers and mom have modeled how to take care of people when they are grieving.  When someone dies, you take a meal, send flowers, visit the family at the funeral home, attend the funeral and the graveside service.  Maybe this is routine for southerners, churchgoers, or people in a strong community, but growing up, I thought it was normal for everyone.  It wasn’t until I met my husband and learned that he had only been to one funeral in his life that I realized regularly attending funerals wasn’t the norm for everyone. 

Our world has had much to grieve over the last year. While everyone walks through the stages of grief differently, we all need to grieve to move on in a healthy way when we suffer loss. For me, going to funerals is an essential part of the grieving process.  Funerals give an opportunity to share memories with others, grieve together and celebrate and honor the life of the person who died. It provides a sense of closure as I pass from one stage of grief to the next. Since living in Europe, I have missed the funerals of several people dear to me. Each time my grief was compounded by not being able to go to the funeral, like a pouring salt into a tender wound. 

While helping us grieve, funerals also provide a time to celebrate life. No matter how short, long, accomplished, simple, broken, or restored – each God-given life is worthy of remembering. Whether it is a large gathering in a church or a handful of people in field, every person deserves to have those closest to them speak words over them in their remembrance. It gives dignity to their life and death and a chance to focus on our ultimate hope of eternity. On a recent trip to Normandy, I walked through the American Cemetery with my children.  As we passed each white cross, we took turns saying the names out loud of the men who had given their lives there in the name of freedom. I wanted my children to know the value of each life and the high cost of freedom and I somehow wanted those men to know they were not forgotten. 

I’ve bought last-minute plane tickets, driven through the night, stood at snowy gravesides and the hallowed grounds of Arlington because often our presence in times of grief is meaningful not only to us but to others. There is something about showing up to funerals and memorials that shows the family that their loved one impacted others and will not be forgotten. I remember a high school friend who drove a long way to come to my Pa-paw’s funeral. It was a simple but meaningful gesture of support that I still remember twenty years later. 

Whether it’s the high cost of burial, busy schedules, distance between loved ones, or now Covid restrictions, there is a subtle shift in norms in our society on the importance of funerals and shared grief. Now more than ever, I believe we need to walk through grief well.  We need to grieve together, honor the dead, support their families, and share the hope of an eternity free from pain, suffering, and death.  Even if we can’t attend a funeral, we can share a meal, send a card, or make a phone call to support the family and remember the life.