A funeral online
June 2020
I have now attended my first online funeral and digital wake; they were unexpectedly heartening experiences, despite my considerable forebodings.
One week into the Coronavirus lockdown, my mother died; it was no tragedy, she died of ‘old age’, mercifully, not infected by Covid-19. Nevertheless, that virus casts a long shadow, and it affected many aspects of her final days, her demise and her cremation. We would have found it all much tougher without the internet and help from an industry new to me, called ‘bereavement technology services’. It would have been very different twenty years, or even ten years, ago.
We could no longer visit my mother once her nursing home was locked down, but the wonderful staff arranged for internet video calls. Once it became clear that the end was near, her doctor was allowed to examine the patient by video and, in due course, issue the cause of death certificate. In more normal times a physical examination is a legal requirement, which would have been complicated, to say the least. Formalities for obtaining the Death Certificate could be completed online, rather than in person, by appointment, as required in the past.
We decided on a brief cremation and a much jollier memorial service once the churches reopened. Not that we had much choice; the Covid-19 rules decreed a maximum of ten at the crematorium, all socially distancing, and we were asked not to encourage people to travel far.
In the event it was only possible for four of us to be there in person. On the face of it, this could have been a melancholy little band, especially given that my mother had a very wide range of friends and relations who would normally have packed the Chapel. I wondered how we could best reflect this; in the event, we didn’t need to. Technology took over.
The service was broadcast live on the internet for anyone with the password to watch; this meant that many people in several continents were able to take part. We had distributed orders of service by email, and I gather there was some lusty singing in some distant corners of the world.
The vicar, too, made a point of addressing some of her remarks directly to the remote congregation. This was inspired, as not only did it allow them to feel a real part of the service, it allowed the few of us in the pews to sense their presence.
The service was placed online for four weeks, so anyone living in a less helpful time zone could catch up. The whole process was completely unobtrusive, and even the music we had chosen was beamed from some distant website into the Chapel sound system. The internet was everywhere.
In the past, I have always resisted filming the likes of weddings, christenings and so on; I believe that these things generally live better in the memory. But this experience has given me pause for thought. We had many appreciative messages from long-distance mourners, and somehow, the knowledge that we were not alone lifted the spirits of the handful of us in the Chapel.
Of course, there was no opportunity for the normal party afterwards, but the grandchildren were not to be denied; they organised a Zoom party that afternoon and almost twenty family members across three generations gathered online from our various points of self-isolation. We told jokes, remembered Grandma, and other course we could all drink, as no one was driving.
So, to some extent, my dear mother died and was committed to her maker on the internet, and we who mourned her were the better for it. I can’t help thinking that, like death itself, this sort of online farewell will be with us always from now on.
A few links...
