The Good Funeral Guide

Scipio Africanus (1702 – 21 December 1720) was a slave born to unknown parents from West Africa. Very little is known of his life. He was the servant of  Charles William Howard, 7th Earl of Suffolk. Scipio lived in the Great House in Henbury, near Bristol. He died there aged, according to his headstone, eighteen.

I who was Born a PAGAN and a SLAVE
Now sweetly sleep a CHRISTIAN in my Grave
What tho’ my hue was dark my SAVIOR’S sight
Shall Change this darkness into radiant Light
Such grace to me my Lord on earth has given
To recommend me to my Lord in heaven
Whose glorious second coming here I wait
With saints and Angels him to celebrate

Bristol-based reggae band Black Roots, sang about him:

L’Inconnue de la Seine

L’Inconnue de la Seine was a young woman who was pulled, dead, out of the River Seine some time in the 1880s. One of the pathologists at the Paris Morgue was so taken with her etherial beauty that he had a death mask made. Copies were taken, and soon thousands of homes had one. L’Inconnue was very popular with artists and writers on account of her enigmatic smile reminiscent of that of the Mona Lisa.  

Leland Stanford Jr

Leland Stanford Jr died aged 15 of typhoid in 1884. His distraught parents founded the university which bears his name. 

This is one way to make a death mask.

More excellent photos of death masks here. 

The Natural Death Handbook, Fifth Edition

A thoroughly updated and revised edition of the Natural Death Centre‘s celebrated handbook. Now presented alongside a new collection of essays on death, dying and funeral practices by doctors, historians, authors, poets, theologians and artists including Richard Barnett, David Jay Brown, Dr Sheila Cassidy, Charles Cowling, Bill Drummond, Stephen Grasso, Maggi Hambling, Graham Harvey, Gary Lachman, Nick Reynolds, and Dignity in Dying.

It’s out in May 2012!

Irish Traveller’s grave, Ireland.

Enjoy the whole photo essay here. Including this photo below.

We’ve talked quite a lot recently about remembrancing and ways we can do that, either through restoration of lost customs, plagiarising others’ customs, or innovation. As we discussed ways of commemorating our antecedents, Jonathan urged us to mind, also, our descendants. 

Today we reproduce in their entirety, because they’re so interesting, the reflections of a Korean woman, Kim Ji-myung, on the ancestral rituals she was brought up to observe. It’s quite long, but you’ll take this at a happy canter. 

During Korea’s Joseon Kingdom (1392-1910), women of decent families would spend most of their adult lives in the service of others ― entertaining guests and overseeing ancestral rituals called “jesa.” These two vocations were a housewife’s most visible roles, on top of cooking and caring for one’s husband and children. 

Even in modern Korea, these expectations stubbornly persist. This is especially true for us wives of first-born sons. To be honest, I’ve always felt some resentment for spending so many hours in late December and early January preparing for the New Year ancestral rituals. After all, the end of one year and the beginning of the next is a special time. Nevertheless, family tradition holds and I’ve long tempered my personal misgivings.

While the specific rituals depend on family tradition, most Koreans observe the same Confucian fundamentals. I think my reluctance is grounded in the fact that I don’t believe the old lore that on special holidays the spirits of our deceased ancestors descend to Earth to taste real food and wine.

Let’s face it, there’s something peculiar about leaving a room and observing a moment of silence so the deceased can eat in peace. Oh, and don’t forget to leave the house gate ajar so the spirits can enter! Taken literally, it’s almost funny to imagine the Korean Peninsula on the New Year and Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) holidays, where the starving spirits from other cultures may crowd the skies to find some food.

Despite my heavy dose of skepticism, I’ve always played my role as a respectful daughter-in-law. After all, traditions aren’t meant to be explained or to be agreed upon. As I’ve been told, subsequent generations should simply follow what’s been handed down. Of course, this is made more difficult in an era of boundless information and interconnectivity. Today, the entire globe is watching and learning from each other thanks to the Internet.

“The cultures that you think are the most stiff and buttoned-up, like Japan, China and Korea, are the cultures that openly sob,” said Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, the author of “Remember Me: A Lively Tour of the New American Way of Death.” In her book, Cullen describes a scene at her Japanese grandfather’s funeral. As they prepare to close the casket, all of her extended relatives surround it and begin to wail.

Reading her account, I was reminded of a similar scene during the recent funeral of the North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il. Watching those people cry, shout and wail so wildly, I wondered about their emotional or rational reasons for doing so.

When my grandmother passed away in a village in the 1970s, I witnessed what was probably the last generation to observe the full traditional funeral rites of a prominent local family. Over several days, as guests arrived from distances near and far, every aspect of the elaborate ceremony was meticulously overseen by professionals ― white mourning garment makers, wailers, caterers, receptionists, ritual conductors and, of course, the coroners. 

I still recall the sad melody of the dirge sung by the master of the pallbearers who led the bier from the village up a hill to the burial site. Hundreds of family members in white, friends and guests followed him. Along the way, the procession stopped at several points to conduct brief roadway rituals, where a table of food was offered to commemorate places of significance for the deceased.

As a young child, I was overwhelmed by the sad and grave spectacle. I was also shocked when my uncle, as master of ceremonies, coolly ordered everyone at one very emotional moment to cease crying. Who was this dispassionate outsider? Was the entire ceremony just a show?

Although elaborate funerary ceremonies of this scale are seldom practiced anymore in Korea, many conservative families faithfully observe ancestral rituals on important holidays and dates marking the deaths of family members. Indeed, many Koreans consider such activities to be their most important and meaningful duty as human beings.

That said times are certainly changing. I remember reading a funny news story about families who pay their respects at a ski resort condominium. This way, they could enjoy the New Year holiday while fulfilling their family duty. Conveniently, all of the traditional ceremonial foods were readily available at the resort supermarket. Stories like this make me wonder if in the future, observing ancient rites will be completely turned over to for-hire ritualists.

Given all this, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised when my son, at age nine, declared that he will not prepare food for his dead ancestors after his father and I die. He offered no explanation, and we dared not criticize him for it. After all, he was merely saying aloud what we have long felt.

Indeed, I suspect that our jesa family protocol will change even in my lifetime. Once my 96-year-old mother-in-law no longer oversees the ceremonies, I plan to make some changes. While the tradition will survive, I hope it does so in a more reasonable form. Once ultimate responsibility for this tradition falls fully to me, I’ll use the occasions as opportunities for valuable off-line family gatherings in this age of relentless online communication. 

After all, in addition to honoring our ancestors, bringing one’s living family members together is also part of jesa.

Source.

We’ve talked recently here about shrines and memorials and remembrancing. Here’s a very nice idea from Shirley, over at the Modern Mourner, in a blog post titled Why can’t memorials be more like weddings? 

It’s a memory table. You put choice things, invested with meaning, on it — arranged beautifully, of course. What would you put on yours?

Not enough time to do this at a British crematorium, of course — not unless you bustle. But at any sensible venue it’d look great. Or at the do afterwards, whatever that’s called. 

Thank you for this aesthetic inspiration, Shirley!

Find the Modern Mourner blog here. 

We get quite a few emails here at the GFG from makers of ashes urns. Most of these urns are ghastly and get no more than a thanks but no thanks. We are unfailingly courteous.

This morning was an exception. We received some stunning images from a Plymouth-based ceramist, Alan Braidford — in answer, it almost seemed, to Richard Rawlinson’s post earlier on today. Wonderful work, we’re sure you’ll agree. There are virtually no makers of funeral urns whose work has evolved beyond the container-of-some-sort stage, but Alan’s urns are anthropoid — they are sculpted figures of humans. What a difference that makes. Depending on size, perfect for a garden memorial or for a family altar to the ancestors. Okay, so we don’t do altars to ancestors. Ours is a developed culture which has lost touch with the value of ritual observances based in an idea of duty. For the sake of our own emotional health, we need to reinvent these observances, and Alan’s work points the way. Do you think they speak too much of grief?

Here is Alan talking about what he does:

My ceramic work is figurative and mostly stoneware. The work is on a domestic scale ranging between 30 to 150 cm in height.

Although my natural impulse is to make sculpture, I am very interested in making functional pieces, and with this in mind I have been developing a series of simplified sitting figures to be used as funeral urns. As this work will be fired to 1250c it will be frost proof, and thus can be placed outside in a garden setting. Ashes or memorabilia can be placed inside the urn through an opening, before the ceramic is fixed to a stone base.

The look of my work is influenced by an interest in ancient history – Celtic, Etruscan, Cycladic and Middle Eastern.

Coiling is the construction process most employed, although I am currently developing a press moulded process in order to reproduce one of the urn designs.  Slips,engobes and lava glazes are used to add surface texture.

Alan is also interested in working collaboratively with bereaved people in the matter of design. If you want to contact Alan, write to him at alanbraidford(at)btinternet(dot)com. His website is here. 

Memorial items for sale on display at Westerleigh crematorium, Bristol. We were especially struck by the post-modern iconography of the drain cover. 

Hat tip to James for this. 

Frazer Consultants a personalization, technology, and consulting company for the death care profession announced the launch of their new, patent pending funeral product, the Life Journey temporary grave marker.

This new, revolutionary invention is not only a temporary grave marker, but also a unique keepsake. After the permanent grave marker is in place, the photo frame portion of the marker can be removed allowing the family to take it home as a keepsake.

“Our Life Journey temporary grave marker becomes a lasting memorial once the headstone or permanent marker is in place,” explained Matt Frazer, Consultant with Frazer Consultants. “Unlike any other grave marker available, our revolutionary removable photo frame is truly a unique keepsake that can be easily created in-house for client families.”

Frazer Consultants free software contains easy to use templates featuring over 500 themes representing most interests, hobbies, occupations, and religious background. “If we don’t have the theme you’re looking for, simply call or email us and make a request,” said Frazer.

The temporary grave marker comes complete with perforated photo sheets and laminate pouches as well as a metal stake which can be reused multiple times.

“Frazer Consultants makes personalization easy for the funeral professional.”

Sorry, no pic of this epoch-making invention — eat your heart out, penicillin. Draw a cross. Draw a square over the intersection. That’s it. If you’re an undertaker, buy lots. 

Source

“Tendagrave is a free service for people who cannot for whatever reason tend a family or friend’s grave. It will put you in touch with other people in a similar situation. You then offer to tend a grave in your local area and, in return, your loved one’s grave will also be lovingly looked after.”

 It’s a very simple and therefore beautiful idea with the potential to do a lot of good. It’s free – the idea is that no money changes hands – and the site owner, Jennifer Barsby-Robinson, will make no money out of it.

Call to action: 

1) Consider making a donation. Here at the GFG we’re skint, but we’ve stumped up a tenner.

2) If you’re a funeral director, consider doing something promotional in your window.

3) Find Tendagrave here.