Allow us time to grieve

Jan 03, 2025

Losing a parent is never easy, no matter how prepared one can be.

During the last week of my Dad’s life, my siblings and I were over prepared with every detail; from contacting the undertaker, handling his remains when he passed, the funeral arrangements to the final rites.

As his condition deteriorated rapidly, we were inevitably preparing ourselves for when Dad would leave us to return to his Maker.

One fateful Saturday night, 25 minutes to midnight, the hospital called and I knew in my gut this had to be that dreaded phone call we were least expecting. Ten minutes passed and my sister, who was on her way to the hospital, called me to ascertain that Dad had left us.

I scurried along making phone calls to the undertaker, making a quick notice on Canva to inform immediate family members, while rushing home to mom, who was alone, unbeknownst to her that the love of her life of 45 years had left her.

The next morning we were busy preparing the house for the return of Dad’s remains while arranging details of the funeral Mass. Here’s where things got a whole lot interesting. Along with the outpouring of condolence messages from family and friends, and wreaths, came a series of comments that would continue until the seventh day of prayers.

The comments included, in a gist, but not limited to;

1. The direction the body was facing,
2. The funeral Mass time should be as late as possible,
3. Covering of the altar at home,
4. What time we should bring the body home (since Dad was in hospital for a month, we should push the undertakers to prepare the remains immediately and send him home first thing in the morning),
5. How the remains “should” be handled,
6. How the ashes cannot be brought into the house after cremation,
7. Why are we not burying him,
8. How many people should go to the cemetery to have him interred, and honestly a whole lot more I am not going to stress you out with (and frankly cannot remember because there were too many and almost too ridiculous).

Now, you may be wondering what I am on about, mindlessly rambling about random things that occurred then, and some of you may even say, but this is a normal occurrence in any funeral. As the family of the deceased, we were merely executing what was desired by Dad. He wanted to be handled in a certain way, and that was what we were doing, with the help of the undertaker.

However, what people fail to realise is that, with all these comments being thrown to family members, you are not allowing them the liberty to grieve.

In that state of mind, we, as the family of the deceased, were so caught up in our own emotions, the entire episode was a blur to most of us. Adding to our grief were comments that come from a superstitious or selfish place and not one of care and comfort. And this pushed us off the edge into a state of anger.

As Catholics our faith does not encompass superstitious practices like ensuring the direction of the deceased’s feet, or covering the altar at home because we are in a state of “bad luck”, or leaving the ashes outside the house because it is deemed “unclean”. These stem from a very different belief that has been passed down from generations, completely blindsiding people to what is religious, what is cultural, and what is plain superstition.

We left our altar lights on the entire time in its full glory, as God is the centre of all our happiness and sadness. There is no bad luck, as the Church does not believe in luck. Dad’s ashes were delivered home, after which we brought him inside. We said a prayer as a family, and when the time came, took him to be interred.

At this point, nothing else mattered. We had lost a family member, and following superstitions would neither bring him back to life, nor accelerate his entry into heaven.

Through all this chaos, we were very blessed to have a strong supportive family unit, who were constantly in touch to give any help they could, a BEC that showed up when we needed them the most (and assisted with the daily prayers), and a priest whom I call a dear friend who went above and beyond to ensure Dad was given a prayerful and meaningful send off. In his homily, the priest affirmed that Dad’s passing during the first week of Advent was a call to the coming of Christ, as we prepare for His coming during Christmastide.

As I write this, it is close to his 30th day memorial, and wrapping up 2024, I hope in 2025 we do better as a people of Christ. I hope as a community we will continue to strive and uplift people who are in need and continue to be Christ-like in rendering our services to the poor, the marginalised, and the grieving. Grief is a quintessential part of life, and allowing families to grieve is important, and although our need to help comes from a place of love, let us engage some tact when dealing with people who are at the most vulnerable emotionally.

Wishing all HERALD readers a blessed 2025, filled with love and peace.

(Martin Arul is a believer who questions everything that is wrong, believing that everyone is equal in the eyes of God, and one must live as a Christian more in deeds than in words, outside the conformities of the building of the church.)