This post is about whether or not to bring kids to funerals.
“Why are there so many songs about rainbows
And what’s on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it
I know they’re wrong, wait and see.
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.”
We just came back from a funeral. On the way back in the car, in the funeral procession, I turned on the radio and The Rainbow Connection sung by the Dixie Chicks came on, and I cried.
The funeral was for the 45-year-old father of a boy in Fiona’s class.
A dad.
A football coach who inspired players and coaches with his fairness, spirit, and strong sense of faith.
He left quite an impression on the huge number of people who showed up to say good bye to him today. He left quite an impression on me, and I didn’t know him.
Fiona wasn’t sure if she should go to the funeral. Although she’s in the same class as this man’s son, the boy is two years older than Fi so they aren’t technically friends as much as they are classmates. (Fi attends a Montessori school that has mixed-age classes, and she’s in the 9-12 class.)
I asked if she wanted some help deciding, and she said yes.
So I said, “Answer this question: If it was a funeral for someone in your family, would you want your classmates to be there for you?”
She said yes, and as soon as she did she knew the answer – she wanted to go. To be there for her classmate, and support him in some small way.
This was the fourth funeral of people we know in two months. We’ve been able to go to two of them.
First, it was the unexpected death of an old friend who took his own life in San Francisco. He was a fantastic, vibrant light – the kind of person who brought energy and light into every room he entered. He was also the loving father of an 8-year-old child.
To be honest, I’m glad I didn’t bring Fi to that funeral because his wife started it by playing Michael Jackson, and disco-dancing down the aisle to the front, stopping along the way to sit in people’s laps.
I don’t know what was going on with her, serious grief maybe, but I’m glad my kids didn’t see it.
Two weeks later, my friend Richard passed away from leukemia in San Francisco. My kids asked – well, begged me – to go to the funeral. I hadn’t planned on taking them, but they really wanted to go to the funeral, so I brought them with me to California.
I really didn’t know what to expect for the kids, and I was a little nervous and lectured them on how to behave at a funeral where there weren’t many kids. Once we arrived, though, I knew it would be okay when the chaplain – who was from Ireland – started the service with a powerful moment of silence, then had us close our eyes and take a series of deep breaths.
“We’re all going to hold this sacred space for Richard,” he began.
I peeked at my children: their little eyes were closed, and they were breathing deeply…holding a sacred space for Richard.
Then our friend Jimmy Dillon brought his guitar up to the altar and sang an acoustic version of Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door, by Guns N’ Roses – aside from cashmere, Richard loved rock n’ roll. There was so much love in that room, and I was so glad I had the foresight to bring my children, because what a gift it all was.
Afterwards, at the reception – Fi made friends with one of Richard’s grown daughters who I had never met because Richard hadn’t even know of her existence until about 10 years ago. She asked Fiona where she was from, and Fi said, “Maryland.”
She said, “Maryland?! What are you doing in California?”
Fi: “We came for your dad’s funeral.”
Richard’s Daughter: “Go. Get. Your. Mom.”
Fi dragged me back to meet her new friend, Richard’s daughter, who said: “Let me get this straight. You flew across the country – at Christmastime – with two children – to come to my dad’s funeral?”
Fi and I: “Well, of course.”
She cried. She was pretty moved that the three of us had flown out to be there.
She said, “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Later I said to Fi: “See? Showing up matters.”
When we got on the plane home I asked the girls what their favorite thing about the trip was – the Planetarium? Golden Gate Bridge? Tea and rice crackers at the Japanese Tea Gardens?
It was Richard’s funeral, they said. That was their favorite thing.
Children need to understand life and death as much as we do – and I forget this. Kids need ritual. They want to be a part of it, and of community, just as much as adults do.
I’m just really glad I brought them.
Then the Thursday before Christmas, another father who we had known from our school died. He was flying his plane home to be with his family for Christmas. It crashed in a corn field in PA.
He was only 38. He had three kids under the age of 8.
He was an amazing person - one of the ones who was at the forefront of making the planet a better place with solar power – but above all, he was a devoted father to his three young children. He would fly back from far away corners of the globe just so he could be at his kid’s school plays.
He knew what mattered.
His wife wrote this on her Facebook page:
Hold on to the ones you love today and everyday. So thankful that he knew exactly how much I loved him and I know how much he loved me. Feel extremely blessed to have no regrets…
Then today, another funeral.
Another devoted, amazing dad of two children. Another wife left behind, a life cut short.
Unfathomable.
The priest kept saying: Life is hard…God is faithful.
It was a gospel church, so the songs they sang were uplifting, and helpful.
Seeing his family was hard – the tears on all their faces as they were following the coffin down the aisle of the church surrounded by the hundreds and hundreds of friends who stood silently in support of them.
And then – down the aisle came this wonderful boy, Fiona’s classmate.
I could see him looking around at all the faces in the crowd, maybe he was trying to find one or two he recognized – then his eyes landed on Fiona, and beside her, another classmate – and you know what?
His face lit up. He smiled.
Then he walked on down the aisle and out of the church, following his father’s coffin.
Fiona squeezed my hand and whispered, “Mommy – I’m so glad we came.”
This post won the popular vote at lovelinks #38.
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This made me tear up. I can’t explain why. I just know that you write in a way that brings me into your world. Thank you for sharing you, your girls and your wonderful perspective with us. xo
Beautiful! that’s all I ahve to say – thanks for writing this!
YW!
You are such an amazing story teller. Truly. I teared up, got goosebumps. That’s a sign of a great writer Ado. Beautiful.
(((Thanks you guys))))
Every word of this post will matter to those who will read it. Thanks for sharing what I’m sure were very difficult experiences. You wrote them out beautifully.
You have given your children an unquantifiable gift…the gift of compassion. This post and that gift are truly beautiful. Thanks so much for sharing this with us so eloquently and lovingly.
Ok, you and Erica have made me “tear-up” again! Sniff-sniff. Hiccup. Thank you
Is it morbid if I say I want you to be there for my funeral?
Seriously though. I think this world needs more people like you, Ado. Those who attends a funeral for the right reasons.
Death is hardly a pleasant subject, and making a decision to attend one is not as easy as attending happier celebrations like a wedding, for example. But I’ve always thought that a funeral is just as important, if not more. It’s a chance to say goodbye and pay your respects to that person who had passed on. It’s a celebration of the life that he or she had lived.
I’m deeply touched by this post, Ado. I really, really do. And so very glad that Fiona and Ella got a chance to learn life’s valuable lessons with your wise guidance and example. I’m so sorry that you have to deal with so many deaths lately, but I must say that you’re handling them so very wisely!
Okay, tears.
Thank you, Sweaty. When you’re an old, old geezer and I’m way past my sell-by date, if you kick the bucket first you can bet I’ll be at your send-off. (-;
Beautiful, Ado. My brother died this year, so my 6 and 4 year olds have asked a ton of questions about death. It’s just amazing to hear their perspectives. It’s not quite the same as your girls, but we can’t hide it from them, no matter how old they are. Your girls are amazing.
So sorry about your brother, Greta. Boy that must be the hardest.
I never know how to deal with death when it comes to my children. I don’t deal with it very well myself. I have so much admiration that you’re able to “show up,” and that you’re showing your kids the importance of it. When my grandmother died I was really moved by the number of people who attended her funeral. Some had few ties to my family, but they still showed up. I wish I was more like that.
Jenny – I didn’t really “get” the importance of showing up at a funeral until I was grown up myself. I lived in Ireland for 5 years, and one day at the office (IBM) – everybody cleared out. I’m talking the bosses all the way down to the cafeteria workers. The office was a ghost town. It turns out a woman who worked there – her father had passed away and everybody just knew to show up for the funeral. I was amazed. It taught me a big, big lesson because where I’m from there wasn’t that “code of behavior” and I was so moved by it. Also my husband is from Ireland and he has taught me the importance of showing up for the hard stuff too. (-:
Hi…Thank you for letting us know about this post and share it to us…I really like reading it…Thank you!!Happy New Year!!
Kids DO want to be a part of the rituals and ceremonies, even if maybe they don’t always realize that they do. And the lesson that showing up matters is important – we want people to be there for us, so it’s important to be there for them. But you can’t just say that…you have to DO it. You’ve given your kids an important gift, in showing them this lesson, as well as helped (in some tiny way) to alleviate the grief of those who have lost their loved ones. And you’ve made me cry, into the bargain.
You have got an amazing child. So full of compassion and love. You are blessed.
Thank you for stopping by today to comment on my blog. I read your post about lives lost and the importance of children understanding life and death and it makes me feel kind of silly for posting how buried and overwhelmed I am with my blog.. I mean, it’s a blog. It’s not life and death, you know?
Anyhow, I’m glad you found me today… and I feel blessed to have found your sweet little corner in the blogosphere.
Thanks Sara! (-: PS: Your blog post was NOT trivial – all mom-bloggers go through this.
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Ado, you are so right. It is so important to share in the ritual & to be present at times of loss. Those faces, those embraces matter. Your piece here is so eloquent and illustrates just how impactful it has been on your girls. A life lesson, yes. Sometimes those lessons aren’t happily ever after, just ever after.
Thank you.
Wow Jackie – so profound the way you put it: “sometimes those lessons aren’t happily ever after, just ever after.”
You’re right. We can’t shield children from knowing about death. Bravo to you for facing that difficult lesson so bravely.
What a trying year for all those families. I hope they all find some comfort and surcease in 2012. You, too.
Thanks very much Trish I hope they find some comfort too but I imagine it would take a lifetime, probably.
Believe me. I can relate. Unfortunately, my child showed virtually no emotion at the death of her niece-to-be, at the devastating sorrow experienced by her big brother. I am worried.
You are doing a stellar job mommy. Trully.
(-: Thanks Stasha, coming from you that means a whole lot!
Oh, I am so sorry for ALL of your losses. Too many. I teared up when I read this…your writing is beautiful.
XO
I LOVE this post as strange as that may sound. It’s tragic all the wonderful folks who have passed too soon with families left behind. It’s the message in the post that I love. There is one sentence where you explain to Fiona that “showing up” is very important. I love that bit. So much is said in just showing up. I am sorry for all the tragedy it is so sad and always breaks my heart to hear the stories of families left behind. But, how special that your children “showed up” for their friends too and for that little boy at his father’s friend that will stay with him forever. Well done mama.
Oh, thanks for your kind words Shannon. (-: Gulp.
Very beautiful. Showing up matters very much.
I’ve been sitting here for awhile trying to think of what to write, but all I can come up with is, I’m sorry. This summer, I attended two funerals in less than two weeks and several months later my friend lost her father-in-law unexpectedly. I was not able to attend the funeral and I felt so terrible that I could not be there to support her and her husband. You are so right, being there means so much.
You’re right – it feels good to be able to show up, awful when you can’t. When my mom died, one of my closest friends said that she probably wasn’t going to be at the funeral since she had never met my mom – I was really taken aback and I said, “Funerals are for the living, as much as they are for the dead.” So she got it and came along, and it really meant the world to me that she did – and then that same friend passed away from ovarian cancer a few years later and right before she died she told me she always remembered what I’d said about my mom’s funeral and how it inspired her to be there for me. Well – my friend’s funeral was PACKED to the RAFTERS. (-:
I fortunately have not had the opportunity to take my kids to any type of funeral and have wondered if I even would because I dislike it so much. But after reading your story, I know I would take them. Thank you for sharing this. It’s an important one.
Thanks Kimberly. (-:
Beautifully written. I am so sorry for what a hard time Christmas has been for you and the families around you. xxx
Thanks Alison – it was actually the best Xmas, despite all the funerals – probably because of them we all didn’t take any of our life for granted.
Oh Ado… Such a special post, and so well-written. I’m so sorry for all the loss you’ve had around you.
Thank Jen – I’m good though – it’s all just a big reminder to be so grateful for all we have, you know? (-:
I am typing through my tears. beautiful post. jsut showing up is so important. As a child who attended many many funerals it is important to say goodbye.
Thank you so very much!
Ado,
this was a beautiful blog, I feel a book coming.
thanks,
C
Mwa! Catherine. (-:
Showing up for the hard stuff, to be there for the person and to pay respect for who they were.
Hard stuff.
SHOWING UP MATTERS.
what an important, beautiful, straight to my heart statement.
in our own lives. in the lives of others. in the times we say goodbye to a life. we should make it a point to always show up.
thanks for this
Thanks for your comment! (-: Comments are a way of showing up too – so thank ye.
Again, beautifully written. I shed tears reading it, and it makes me want to hold the ones I love close. And whoever said that up there is right – you are teaching your kids compassion – a huge gift in this world we live in.
Thanks Ally. (-:
Awww, great post. Well written. Good decisions, all.
I can’t find the words to describe what I felt after reading your beautiful text…anyway, thanks for sharing it and let us into your inner world.
From the archives – On Bringing Kids To Funerals http://t.co/lQ8sNMGR via @sharethis