Mom just died. I was there to celebrate her 90th birthday just a week before her death. My brother Dave and I were both at her side when she passed away.
We had her burial yesterday. I tried to concentrate on every detail. But even today, a day later, I’m starting to forget.
Usually I take a lot of pictures to help me remember things. I’ve done this for most of my life. I just don’t trust my memory.
It is in bad taste to take photographs at a funeral. I suppose people do not wish to be imaged at their most vulnerable moments. It is even worse for a person to take pictures at a funeral of his or her own loved ones. However, I don’t see anything wrong in principle, with taking respectful images at a funeral or burial. They could portray beautiful moments in the cycle of life.
But the act of photographing takes away from participating in the moment. Looking at a scene from behind a camera is isolating. The camera is a physical and emotional barrier between the photographer and the life that is in process in front of the lens.
Memory:
Dave and I were required to view Mom’s body before the burial. I’m not sure if this is only a Jewish thing, or if everyone has to be identify their dead to avoid mistakes. But it was part of our check list of things to do. When we arrived at the cemetery, the hearse was there already and the funeral guy asked us if we were ready to see Mom.
He opened the back door of the hearse and there was the casket on this silver track. He pulled the casket which silently glided toward us, and opened the lid. There were a couple of layers of sheer white material he had to pull back in order for us to see. He didn’t pull it back all the way. We could only see Mom’s nose and chin. I suppose we were reluctant to see the upper part of her face. Neither of us asked if we could. The nose and chin looked like hers, so we identified the body as Mom’s.
I took no picture. I have an idea in my mind about what Mom (her nose and chin, at least,) looked like, but I could not quite translate that image to a piece of paper.
Identification
6″x9″ 140# Cold Pressed Watercolor Block
Will the image in my mind’s eye become as featureless as the image I made only one day after I last saw Mom?
One of the harshest things I’ve ever done is wash the body of my husband’s grandmother… A tradition and custom, and I found it the hardest thing I have ever done..
Thinking of you…
Goodness, Ritu. I can’t imagine. I have read about that process but still…
Thank you again for writing.
best,
Jack
Hope you’re finding it easier day by day Jack x
Well, it might be getting easier but I’m still on the east coast. I have not been home yet or in my normal daily routine. I have to reserve judgement until I get back and see how it goes.
Thanks. Will keep you posted.
Jack
I know that’s probably one of the hardest things, because for everyone else, the funeral is kinda closure. For you and your family though, once you have managed all that needs managing, and get back to normality, you know there is something missing, yet the world is still revolving… You almost wonder how…
But it does, and you’ll be ok.
Thinking of you.
X
Hi Ritu… just saw this comment. Somehow ended up in spam. Thank you so much for your thoughts.
j
Aw no worries… I seen to be seen as ‘spam’ quite a but recently! Hope you’re OK though 😊
Traveling to England for my 1st and saddest trip, we buried my beloved father in law, not only did I want to photograph some of the decor to remember it by but also because the funeral was much different to here in the states. Like you, I did not do it in the end as I thought it would be in poor taste. I wish I had though to remember it better. I am so sorry for your loss. xxxx
Yes, it would have been very nice to have photos to aid a failing mental image. But in the end the human contact was probably worth the sacrifice. That is what I am coming to realize.
Thank you for writing and your condolences.
best wishes,
Jack
Always Jack ~~~ xxxx
Thank you, Marie
j
I am so sorry to hear of your loss. My thoughts go out to you and your family.
Thank you for your condolences and your kind thoughts, Ruth.
best wishes to you,
Jack
I always think of that moment, and because I know I can’t bear it, I always wish to die before my parents.
Your parents would probably find your death excruciatingly hard to bear.
My parents always knew that I loved them. That makes things easier. Unresolved issues are the worst thing to deal with becase it is hard to reconcile if the other party to the dispute is not living.
Don’t wish heartache on your parents. Honor them in the best way you know and you will be able to bear their passing, which is probably a long way off.
Wishing you the best,
Jack
I don’t know you but my thoughts are with you.
Thank you for sharing.
Thank you very much. I appreciate your kind thoughts.
J