It’s a time honored tradition here in America that motorists pull off the side of the road when meeting a funeral procession.
This happened to me recently. I came around a curve to find myself a few car lengths away from an oncoming hearse followed by a string of cars. The car in front of me braked quickly as did I. The car behind me pulled off the road too.
The superstition of my Appalachian roots prevented me from counting the cars. It’s considered bad luck.
But it was a noticeably short funeral and it got me to thinking about this ritual of honoring our dead.
People don’t seem to go to funerals much anymore and those who do will frequently skip the procession to the cemetery. It’s increasingly common to just visit with friends at the calling hours and completely bypass the formality of the funeral.
It used to be a sort of badge of honor to say that a funeral was large. I have been part of funeral processions that were dozens of cars long and loved ones will speak proudly of how many people came to pay their respects to their person.
When my aunt died a few years ago and I was asked to stand up at her funeral and read a story I had written about her life, I was worried that it would take too long. Perhaps it did take too long and that roomful of mourners probably did wish I would hurry things along.
However, when a soul leaves this world, it’s kind of tacky to complain about the time you are expected to mourn at their funeral. It’s like saying they already got their 75 years of life and they don’t deserve another hour of your time.
As our society trends towards a more casual environment that is less tied to social etiquette and more to the interests of the individual, I suspect funerals will continue to shrink and mourners will continue to sneak in and out quickly , unceremoniously and with little regard to celebrating a life departed.
So, when you see a funeral procession, be sure to pull over and at least consider that a person has left this world and those who will miss them. It will take just a minute but will go a long way toward helping you connect to your own humanity.
I’ve noticed the same. After both of my parents insisted on no funeral, I’ve decided that I won’t do that to my children and will tell them to honor my life in whatever way they think is best, but to please include people outside the family who mattered to me, and a regular funeral is probably the best way to accomplish that.
There is something to be said for a traditional funeral. It really is cathartic and helpful to the living who need a way to acknowledge their loss.
This post has me reflecting on my years of service in the fire department and lessons that were ingrained in us as recruits. One of the most solemn and profound among these was the funeral procedure. It’s a tradition that deeply embodies the respect and brotherhood we share as firefighters, closely mirroring the military in its formality and reverence for those we’ve lost. We were taught, from our earliest days, to don our Class A uniforms and stand in salute to honor the memory of a fallen comrade, a gesture that signifies the deep bond and mutual respect among those in service, extending to our counterparts in police departments as well.
I remember being a rookie and hearing about the importance of learning and practicing funeral duties. “You will lose people,” they said. At the time, it seemed distant, almost too grim to fully grasp. Yet, as the years passed, that harsh reality became a part of my own story. By the time I took early retirement, I had lost five coworkers—five friends whose memories are etched in my heart. Each loss was a stark reminder of the risks we face and the sacrifices made in the line of duty.
My personal reflections on mortality and how we choose to honor our lives after we’re gone have been influenced by these experiences. I’ve shared with my wife my wish for cremation, with my ashes to be spread here on our farm in Vermont. It’s a decision that feels right for me, a way to remain connected to the land and life that I love.
Observing the changes in societal attitudes towards funerals and traditional rites of passage, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss. These rituals, funerals included, are foundational to American society, providing a sense of closure, a way to honor those who have passed, and a moment for the living to come together in support and remembrance. Yet, as they slowly fade into the background of our evolving culture, I find myself pondering the implications for future generations. Will they find new ways to commemorate and celebrate the lives of those they lose, or will the erosion of these traditions leave a void in our collective experience of grief and remembrance?
First of all, thank you for your service. Where would we be without our first responders? Anyone willing to run toward danger while the rest of us are running away deserves nothing but respect in my book.
I like the formality you describe. There’s also comfort in seeing friends and family gather for time honored traditions as mourners, as pall bearers and as those who simply pull over for a passing funeral. My mother recalls my grandpa’s funeral procession when Amish men along the route ceased working on their fields out of respect for someone they may not have even known.
We are slowly losing something special.
I just saw a news clip about bringing home those three soldiers who were killed this week. It reminded me that there is formality and ceremony at every step of their journey home. I hope we never lose that.
A very interesting post about a unique topic. I recall my uncle’s funeral where during the eulogy, the choir director kept looking at his watch. It made me mad. I didn’t say anything to the church people, but, years later, I wish I had. I know at my mom’s funeral, many came to the funeral home but left without attending the service. While I don’t keep a list, I was kind of surprised. It reminds me of the well-known Maya Angelou’s quote (I always seem to think of these sayings.) “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” When I attend funerals, I hope my actions are a blessing to those who have lost someone. Thank you for this post. I would have never thought of this topic, but I do think it is one to think about.
Why on earth would anyone in that position keep looking at their watch? That’s awful!
No one enjoys a funeral but it’s an important part of our journey. I’m glad you found this thought provoking.
My brother’s in-laws did the whole funeral thing when he died and I got up to speak about him and went to the cemetery. I do think it’s the only funeral I’ve ever been to!
On my gosh. I have been to so many. It’s not fun but there is a sense of community among the mourners that is both heartbreaking and oddly inspiring.
I’m curious if the challenges/covid we experienced with the limiting of the size, visitations and funerals has changed the ways of funeral attendance? I sure hope not. This was a thought- provoking post thanks for sharing it.
Funerals were on the decline in my area prior to Covid. It felt like Covid just gave us another excuse to not participate. I’m glad this has given you something to consider.