Thanks to Sr. Mary Ellen Doyle for her letter in response to my article, "Good Grief,” in which she offers the example of a reverent and respectful instance of cremation as an “alternative view” to mine. For the sake of clarification, my article doesn't suggest that cremation, per se, is a problematic practice. As we know, the Church has approved it, and many Catholic and Christian families, as well as those from other faiths, have had similarly satisfying experiences. The source of pain, for me and for my family, lay in the way in which the cremation was carried out. Also, I thought (and think) it important to acknowledge that there is often a sense of loss whenever we deviate from long established tradition, however satisfying the new rites might be, and the essay attempts to articulate at least some of the nuances of that loss. As it has come to my attention that other families have had unhappy experiences similar to ours, the essay serves as a means of informing readers of such unpleasant possibilities so they might be more prepared to meet them than we were. Also, an element of the narrative that I edited out, in the interest of conserving words, is that the presence of the body at the Funeral Mass would not have been quite so necessary to me and to my sisters, since we were with my mother as she died and were able to spend time in the presence of her body after her passing. But I felt the palpable lack of that presence for my three adult sons, who had not seen their grandmother in some time. They flew in from cities across the country--and from Europe, as well--and experienced a good deal of disappointment at not being able to see her face one last time. Her urn full of ashes and the (many) photographs we had collected and arranged were no substitute for her bodily presence. I think, had she been able to imagine and anticipate this, she would have been glad to have a wake as it would have enabled her grandchildren--whom she loved deeply--to say goodbye. This scenario, of families living many miles apart from one another, is a reality of modern life, making the practice of waking the body, perhaps, more necessary than ever before—so I suspect this decision proves to be of more significance to families separated by geographical distance than to those who live in close proximity. The common ground that my essay and Sr. Mary Ellen’s letter share is the belief that the rituals we observe should take into account the wishes of the dead in conjunction with an understanding of the needs of the living. Happily, in the celebration Sr. Mary Ellen describes, these were both observed in a way that they were not in my family's case. She and her sisters are fortunate, in this regard—where there are no errors and no regrets, no “rite of atonement” is necessary.
Thanks to Sr. Mary Ellen Doyle for her letter in response to my article, "Good Grief,” in which she offers the example of a reverent and respectful instance of cremation as an “alternative view” to mine. For the sake of clarification, my article doesn't suggest that cremation, per se, is a problematic practice. As we know, the Church has approved it, and many Catholic and Christian families, as well as those from other faiths, have had similarly satisfying experiences. The source of pain, for me and for my family, lay in the way in which the cremation was carried out. Also, I thought (and think) it important to acknowledge that there is often a sense of loss whenever we deviate from long established tradition, however satisfying the new rites might be, and the essay attempts to articulate at least some of the nuances of that loss. As it has come to my attention that other families have had unhappy experiences similar to ours, the essay serves as a means of informing readers of such unpleasant possibilities so they might be more prepared to meet them than we were. Also, an element of the narrative that I edited out, in the interest of conserving words, is that the presence of the body at the Funeral Mass would not have been quite so necessary to me and to my sisters, since we were with my mother as she died and were able to spend time in the presence of her body after her passing. But I felt the palpable lack of that presence for my three adult sons, who had not seen their grandmother in some time. They flew in from cities across the country--and from Europe, as well--and experienced a good deal of disappointment at not being able to see her face one last time. Her urn full of ashes and the (many) photographs we had collected and arranged were no substitute for her bodily presence. I think, had she been able to imagine and anticipate this, she would have been glad to have a wake as it would have enabled her grandchildren--whom she loved deeply--to say goodbye. This scenario, of families living many miles apart from one another, is a reality of modern life, making the practice of waking the body, perhaps, more necessary than ever before—so I suspect this decision proves to be of more significance to families separated by geographical distance than to those who live in close proximity. The common ground that my essay and Sr. Mary Ellen’s letter share is the belief that the rituals we observe should take into account the wishes of the dead in conjunction with an understanding of the needs of the living. Happily, in the celebration Sr. Mary Ellen describes, these were both observed in a way that they were not in my family's case. She and her sisters are fortunate, in this regard—where there are no errors and no regrets, no “rite of atonement” is necessary.