Bud’s most recent trip to New York City for quarterly check-up — Scans and tests show no reason for concern. The same as last visit “no hint of a concern.” And the next appointments are scheduled for four months away rather than three!
Thank you so much for your prayers for his health!
I’m referring to my Grandpa’s funeral; he died when I was in fifth grade. His services began with a “wake” which was held in his church.
What is a “wake?” These thoughts are from the Protestant perspective, or more specifically, a primitive denomination viewpoint. A wake is an old, old custom rarely seen these days. The original idea was that family members would remain with the body for a period of time and remain awake, watchful, and praying. A common time frame for this event was three days and usually the deceased remained in the home for those days. Originally, there was the belief that the body could be overtaken by an evil spirit after death and the people watching could prevent this.
A common thought is that a wake was intended to verify that the person had, in fact, died. But the practice of wakes continued to take place well into the 20th century – even though the idea of inhabitation by evil spirits had by then been widely rejected. Also, holding wakes occurred even long after the practice of embalming was well established. It would be impossible for an embalmed body to revive from a comatose or near-death state.
Grandpa and Grandma had given the church a building lot on their land so the church was just across the field. There was quite a tribe of cousins and we didn’t understand about a “wake” and we had no desire to sit in a church with a deceased person in a closed casket (even though it was Grandpa) and a crowd of emotional people. So, we were allowed to go “up to the house” and so we could get away from it for a while.
And things were fine until it got dark. Suddenly we all heard something – a noise we could not identify. Then the terror fell upon us. We had all been subjected to superstitious stories by Grandma when we visited so we were certain that what we heard was a GHOST—or maybe even Grandpa! We ran! Every last one of us! I remember running in the mostly dark down a rutted dirt lane. My sister was just enough older than I was that she realized we would have to run beside the highway if we kept going, so we cut sideways across the field to get to the church. The adrenaline carried us all the way there – though a bit slower than the cousins!
I don’t remember anything until the scene jumps and I am in the church on the day of the funeral. This particular denomination would always, I have learned since, have a string of preachers take their turn preaching at every service, even funerals. My Grandpa had been one of the preachers in that church, so he may have had the honor of a visiting preacher or four. They have a particular style of preaching that is very energetic, but hard to understand. The service was long, long, long. The drive to the cemetery was long. The graveside service was long. I only have specific impressions after the near-ghosting – short shadows of a few memories all shoved together.
Why did I want to share this with you? True confession, it is great of fun to tell, because it is kind of weird. Primarily though, it is a part of my history. The death of a grandparent is a hard, hard thing that many parents want very badly to shield their children from the experience. They want to protect their children from all real-life human death.
Our protectiveness drives us to seclude them from calling hours and funeral services and grave side committals. We fear that we are going to damage their tender emotional health by exposing them to the realities that each person must someday face in one way or another. I believe this approach is detrimental to the child.
That death is inevitable is without question. Today’s children will experience death less frequently than children of the past. Families are smaller, infant and child death rates in the United States are less than in the past, adults are living longer. By default, young people have less exposure to death than people of previous generations. The result of this is that they have a nearly non-existent framework for managing the process of death and the events following.
Parents will have few opportunities to journey with their children through this difficult time, so I believe they should be willing to walk them through each loss that comes. When a friend of the family or distant relative dies, this can be a time of learning and preparation for the youngster. When the parents process death maturely in the presence of their children, they gain a wealth of information that will help them throughout their lives. They learn basic things such as the social graces of how to conduct themselves in the funeral setting. They learn family culture as they observe the ceremonies that are chosen for the purpose of honoring the deceased. They also learn about more difficult tasks, including processing the emotions that refuse to be controlled or reconciling the ideas of death and their faith or after-life beliefs, or managing various aspects of grief.
I am sad when I see parents who do not understand that they have so few times when they can make an incredibly positive impact on the long-term emotional health of their children. By the simple act of allowing the child to observe them in the funeral setting and by speaking carefully and truthfully about the events, parents can set their children on a path of healthy attitudes toward death.
I encourage parents to include their children in the various ceremonies of a funeral event – calling hours, funeral or memorial service, graveside service. I believe it helps them to be encouraged to take a participatory role as this helps them to process their own grief.
Given all this, a parent may be overwhelmed by the prospect of presenting something that they, themselves, do not know all that well. We offer a resource that they may not even realize is an option. I am available to give tours of the public spaces in our facilities, and to talk with children about how to “do” the social things at a funeral, and to help them understand that they will be sad and that’s okay. During the tour, they will hear suggestions that will help them to process their grief and direct them toward healthy closure. A funeral home does not have to be a big scary place in their minds; I love to help children see that they can be comfortable and find closure through the funeral services.
My first funeral was not your normal sort of event, to be sure, and I have many impressions but few solid memories. But it taught me about some of our family culture, which as an adult I have come to value more highly, so I’m thankful to have been included. My own children, to this day as adults, have not experienced the death of a close relative, but I’m hopeful that they have a been instilled with the framework of how to prepare for that time.
Another three-month segment is finished. As Bud says, for us life is measured in quarters marked at the end by a progress report from a team of oncologists.
The report at this time is good. I think, very good! The oncologist indicates that there are no worries, actually there is not even a hint of anything to worry about. The radiation oncologist who follows the issues in the brain indicated everything there looks good, as well. All sights are totally dormant. The neurologist did not need to see him and feels that there is no need to connect again until the next three-month review.
Once again, I share with you a report that brings thankfulness to our hearts. We rejoice that God has chosen to work this way for us. Even so, we are very aware that there are those in our community who are grieving at this time as a dear loved one has gone to heaven. God loves each of us with an everlasting love and I know that He grieves along with this family during their heartache. We are sad as well as the loss of a friend is difficult; but there will be a glorious reunion of friends and family in a future day. This friend will be there to greet all who love the Lord as he did.
I love quotes. I enjoy concise statements that hold profound thoughts. I have quote signs in my house. I believe that these little signs help keep us focused and on track all through out the day. I have lately become aware of numerous quotes by a loveable bear, Winnie the Pooh.
“Life is a journey to be experienced, not a problem to be solved.”
So what’s in your today or tomorrow? Lots of problems that you have been staring you in the face for some time now? That’s the thing about problems, they just hang around and we feel like we always have to be conquering them. And once one is solved, it seems there are always more to fill the space.
We are all on the same page about the latest problem of Covid-19. This problem has been stealing quality time for weeks and weeks. It promises to steal away our summer, and our autumn and maybe even our winter by affecting our vacations, our harvests, and our employment. Obviously, I have no answers to this problem—lots of opinions, but nothing of substance.
But the journey–I am so encouraged by those of you who are still making a wonderful journey for yourselves and your families. On Facebook, I asked for people to share “one great thing the little people in your house did today!”
The responses were truly delightful and included:
Molly JT – Belly laughed…with one another, again and again. Time together is bringing them even closer.
Kimberly – They actually got along all day and hung out together.
Jordan – Read a story together like we do every night before bed and with the little babe, snuggled.
Katrina – Helped clean up the kitchen.
Joy – He wanted to talk about Jesus a lot at bedtime and wanted to pray on his own. Without prompting, he prayed, “Jesus, You are Lord and God.”
Chris – Sang the entire Hallelujah Chorus with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on video.
Tricia – Our little girl has been saying “I love God” all on her own, many times a day!
Aimee – He climbed up in the chair with me and cuddled for a half hour before bedtime.
And I love Tara’s contribution:
My kids brought all their outside toys into the turkey coop and set up a little amusement park so the turkeys could have fun!
Such entertaining and creative things happening in your homes! Remembering that we are on a journey together may be just the thing to help us focus on the good experiences rather than the problems. We all know that our problems are always going to be with us, but how easy it is to forget that the other people in our homes are what makes the journey exciting, fun, and memorable.
When we each come to our own journey’s end, we will not be thinking about all the problems we solved or the many that were elusive. We will be thinking about those dear people who experienced with us the joys and heartaches, the triumphs and the tragedies, the moments and the milestones. May we each find ways every day to celebrate our journey and experience the great things that are in our homes, just waiting to be noticed.
Celebrate your life and cherish memories!
Feel free to add a comment about some good things happening in your homes . . .
It is pretty amazing that he only arrived there Wednesday afternoon and is home today. He has seen a great deal in these few days and he was prepared to stay longer. In the last 24-hour period he was there, he noticed a significant slow-down in the number of calls for initial transport, so it seemed like a good time to transition out.
The vehicles in this lane are waiting for entrance into a hospital morgue area for transporting bodies.
During his time there, he did have opportunity for interaction with people in various settings. While waiting in line to pick up a body, he visited with a Muslim chaplain. The man shared that he felt that this is a good time for people to be doing good works so that their good can outweigh their bad in hopes of going to heaven. Their conversation touched several topics which Bud found interesting to learn about from the man’s perspective. And where he could he tried to lay a little seed. He pointed out to the man that we can all know for sure if we are going to heaven and it’s not about what we do, but about who we know.
A message I heard this morning pointed out that our good works are not about the deed, they are about the heart and the relationship. I understood that God does not see the deed, He sees the heart, because of the relationship. So, I surmise that if God does not recognize the person doing the good work the deed goes unnoticed.
How often do I perceive the good things that your child does? Not often, especially if I have never met your child. But just let my child do something kind or thoughtful and I take notice! The two children could have done the exact same thing, but because I have a relationship with one of them his/her deeds mean something. The same way with God.
But our good works are not what has ensured our entrance into heaven. They are a reflection of the relationship that we have with Him. The faith part was first, and then the good works come forth from there.
Perhaps Bud planted enough of a seed in this meeting to inspire more investigation.
Most of them don’t feel like heroes. They are normal, flawed people just fulfilling their purpose in life. Most of the time, their purpose isn’t spotlighted by the world. Most of them are usually chagrined by the attention and just want to serve. Bud is one of those people. He went to the NY epicenter because 1) he is able — many of our hometown heroes must be here to serve locally, or to care for growing families, and 2) because serving families is his purpose. And he is one of those people who does not count himself as a hero. When you just want to serve an amazing God, you know who the real Hero is.
But there come those critical moments in history when these people, in “doing what they do” are understood as a crucial component of our society. People are finding thoughtful ways to show their appreciation for the service received from the responders — first, middle and last. Here’s an example of what one business in Queens is doing for the “heroes”:
Sent via text from Bud today.
In my feed came a posting from Pat McGowan, one of my instructors from Pittsburgh Institute of Mortuary science. I have permission to include it here:
“Some days all that can be done is to salvage one sadness from the mass of sadnesses, to bear one body home, to lay the dead out among their people, organize the flowers and casseroles, write the obits, meet the mourners at the door, drive the dark procession down through town, toll the bell, dig the hole, tend the pyre. It’s what we do. The daylong news is dire— full of true believers and politicos, bold talk of holy war and photo-ops. But here, brave men and women pick the pieces up. They serve the living, caring for the dead. Here the distant battle is waged in homes. Like politics, all funerals are local.”
And Pat concludes the post with a heart-felt greeting:
Thank you to my friends and colleagues who are the “Last Responders”. Stay safe and stay strong.
This is a photo that Bud sent me via text, with the caption that said, “Verrazano Bridge – not in Kansas anymore.” He took this on his way to Coney Island on Wednesday.
Navigating the City was nothing like usual. This photo was taken during “rush hour” but the normal rush was nonexistent. It appears that the situation held a similar surreal quality such as when Dorothy found herself in the Land of Oz.
The purpose of this trip to Coney Island is to answer a call for assistance with the many death cases occurring in the area. In September, 2001 there was a call for funeral directors in New York City. At that time, Bud did not feel that he was in a position to help.
Once again, there is a call for funeral directors. The providers there are overwhelmed with the number of cases and need help with transporting the deceased, embalming or cremation prep, and many other tasks. Bud has been thinking of going for a couple of weeks, as this time he feels he should be there.
One of the funeral homes he contacted had, at the time of his initial contact with them, 109 cases to work through, with more calls coming. For comparison, funeral homes that are members of the National Funeral Director’s Association handle, on average, 113 cases per year. This one facility is working to serve one hundred and nine families, and their call rate is currently about 30 new calls per day.
On his first partial day, Bud has simply been transporting decedents from the morgue at Mount Sinai Hospital to the funeral home. The photo below was captioned: Ramp to temporary morgue, Trailer 2. (The temporary morgue is not the house in the background, rather it is the white trailer.)
In my reading, I’ve learned that most hospitals in the area have morgue capacity for about 12, but there are some that can handle up to 25. This has resulted in the installation of the temporary morgues.
As you consider the situation in New York City, whatever you may think of the entire Covid-19 scenario, please remember that grief is running rampant there. Vast numbers are managing grief every day and their pain is deep and real. Please pray for those families and friends who are navigating the valley of the shadow of death.
Please pray for Bud. It may be that he will be the most help by transporting, but whatever his assigned task, it will be challenging simply because of the sheer numbers involved.
Life in the valley. What valley? The valley of the shadow. We always think of this phrase in terms of the “valley of the shadow of death” as referenced in Psalm 23. But this world is beset by shadows of all types and sizes . . .
Shadow of sorrow
Shadow of disappointment
Shadow of betrayal
Shadow of misunderstanding
Shadow of smarminess
Shadow of doubt
Shadow of hurt
Shadow of isolation
Shadow of separation
Shadow of criticism
Shadow of castigation
Shadow of humiliation
In order to have a shadow there must be light. In this light, some obstacle must insert between the observer and the source, stopping the light — resulting in an area of darkness. Too often, the obstacles are us.
Perhaps you are the obstacle between me and the light. Perhaps I am the obstacle between you and the light. Perhaps I am the obstacle between me and the light – meaning, I can even create my own obstacles. Did you ever hear someone say “I can’t get out of my own way?”
The obstacle always results in an area of darkness. Never have I seen a bright shadow, or a glowing shadow, or a radiant shadow. Just like no one ever really saw a radiant pig; sorry, Charlotte, to shine the light on that myth. Shadows are dark—and darker.
Never have I seen a luminous shadow, but I have seen a shimmering reflection. A reflection happens when light bounces off an object. The surface of the object determines the directness or the amount of diffusion the reflection has. But never does bouncing light result in darkness—only light.
You know where I’m going with this. Jesus is the light, the Light of the world. Those who know Him have a daily choice to make. Will I be an obstacle that results in darkness? Or will I choose to pass the light along, reflecting brilliance from Him? Some days this is a moment by moment choice for me. I struggle with attitude; I struggle with purpose; I struggle with motivation. Let’s face it, I struggle with so many things that it might be easier to list what I’ve mastered.
Here’s the list: .
This is why I have to constantly strive to turn those shadows out and allow the light to shine. I want to turn those shadows above into something other.
reflections of joy
reflections of contentment
reflections of loyalty
reflections of insight
reflections of sincerity
reflections of certainty
reflections of healing
reflections of community
reflections of unity
reflections of approval
reflections of praise
reflections of affirmation
Reflections of grace.
I’m feeling it, so I’m sure that you are as well, that it would be wonderful if we could move on from the current health crisis. COVID-19 has hijacked our entire existence and even our deaths, and as such, we all need to adapt. Yet funerals still happen and need to happen. Mourning does not stop for a virus. Grieving continues, and in some families, is amplified because of the virus.
We continue to offer viewings and funeral services for the immediate family. For years we have offered free webcasting services. This service is even more valuable to you now in the midst of the current crisis. Given the private nature of funerals, our streaming is password protected, giving you total control over your guest list. You choose your password and give it to those friends and family that you’d like to participate.
“Conversations will not be cancelled.
Relationships will not be cancelled.
Love will not be cancelled.
Songs will not be cancelled.
Reading will not be cancelled.
Self-care will not be cancelled.
Hope will not be cancelled.”
Adding to the list:
Mourning will not be cancelled.
Compassion will not be cancelled.
Encouragement will not be cancelled.
We are here to help and offer hope. Click on the image below for a story of hope . . .