Teaching the Children: Why Funerals Matter
In the first month of the year, I attended three funerals. One for an almost 92-year-old force-to-be-reckoned-with woman, with whom I shared a birthday; one for a friend’s brother, only 31 years old; one for another friend’s mother, who recently turned 65. I attended each of these services for the ones left behind. Despite the word, there is not much “fun” in funerals, but there is a great opportunity for introspection and empathy.
Today, halfway through February, I have another funeral to attend, for one of our oldest church members. He’s been ill for a while, including dementia. In such situations, loved ones often experience a sense of relief as they grieve. When my grandfather died, I felt thankful that he didn’t suffer through treatments that may prolong his life but not his health.
Already in 2025, I’ve attended more funerals than in 2024, including assisting in funeral meals after the service. Unlike other experiences, this one does not get “easier with practice.” Since the funerals of my grandparents, I haven’t pushed the kids to attend every service. However, there are a few I deem as “important,” not for the sake of how well we knew the individual, but for the sake of showing love to those left behind.
These lessons are not simple but necessary for navigating life. As the adages go, “Nothing is certain except death and taxes” or “No one gets out of this life alive.” No matter the age of your children, be clear when talking about death. Saying “they passed away” or “they didn’t make it” is vague and confusing.
As a Christian, I do not believe that death is an ending, but a new beginning. However, there is still finality. I will not see the person who has died until Jesus returns. For our time on this side of Heaven, death is permanent. We can no longer see, hear, talk with, or hug the one who has died. Yet we have hope. We can be sad that our loved one is gone, relieved that their suffering is over, and joyful that the story isn’t over. Each of the emotions we experience is okay. It is important to teach your children that they are allowed to feel all the things.
Some services are more difficult than others, just as some losses are more complicated than others. Know yourself and your child(ren) well enough to pick up on cues. Some children are tender-hearted and tearful, some become overwhelmed by the emotions and people in the room, and some may seem stoic and unmoved. Meet them where they are, talk openly and honestly, and give them the kind of space they need. As long as they are safe, I allow my children to go to a different room if necessary.
The last lesson is minding what you say to the grieving. It is enough to say, “I’m sorry for your loss.” You don’t have to say anything else. Remember that Job’s friends were a great comfort to him until they spoke. Do share your memories of the person and how much you will miss them. Avoid asking questions that the grieving person has to make a decision. “Let me know if you need anything” is a nice sentiment, but in grief, a person may not know what they need. Offer something instead. “I’m going to bring a meal over on such and such a date, if that works for you.” You remove a burden but also leave it open. After my friend’s mom died, we only had a week until ballet performance. I told her I would take care of the meal plan that week since we would be together anyway. She didn’t have to make any decisions, she only had to show up on time – a big enough challenge during grief!
Funerals are not fun, but you can experience joy even in sorrow. Grief is a process. It is not linear, there is no right or wrong way to grieve. Loss doesn’t “get easier” but does “get different.” Some days grief looks like joy over the memories, other days it looks like anger, and still others look like the pit of despair. Grief comes in waves, some small and others like a tsunami. Some you wade through, some bury you, but eventually, you learn to surf.