family perspectives on care of the dead

I have only had two experiences dealing with death involving people who were close to me (so far). The first was my mother who died five years ago. When my mother died, my family was unprepared. Alhtough we knew for sure that she would die, we hand't thought about what we would do when it happened. My mother was surrounded by her children, father and mother, which made the moment of her death actually quite beautiful. My family had been accepting and asked my mother to let go because we knew that for her, death meant relief. I think we felt this way because my mother had been in much pain during her illness and in the last five days of her life, she had gradually slipped into a coma. At the time, it seemed as though she lost everything quickly- in a matter of a week. Fist she lost the ability to walk, which is when the hospice bed came in. Then she stopped talking, stopped taking her medication and finally, stopped breathing.

When my mother died, my dad didn't know what we were supposed to do with her body. She died in our home and the hospice nurse advised us to call a funeral home so that they could take my mother's body away. My father and eldest brother carried her body into the hearse and that was the last time I saw her body until the funeral. My father and brother Antonio walked with our dog Yoshi to bring the dress that my grandmother had chosen for my mother's body to wear. 


We were all in a state of shock- grieving with the reality of my mother's death, but we had to immediately prepare for the funeral. This meant notifying people- family and friends- so that they could know of my mothers death and attend the funeral. Because my mother had been raised in California and my grandmother was adamant on burrying her there, we made arrangements to have her body flown to the Bay Area.


Although this was a difficult time for everyone, I think that my dad had it the hardest. Already having to deal with the loss of his wife of 25 years, he also had to find a balance between respecting what my grandmother wanted for my mother's body and cherishing my mother's values. As a catholic, she had very strong views on how my mothers body should be handled. This included everything from how she should be dressed (she picked a dress my mother hated) to whether or not we had an open casket (we wanted closed) to how large (and expensive) the tombstone should be. My father imagined what my mother would have wanted for herself and knew that she would have wanted dancing and drumming at her funeral because those were things my mother loved. However, my grandmother wanted a traditional ceremony, so it was difficult to work with her. He also knew that it would be very important that there would not be a rift between us so for the most part, he gave in to what my grandmother wanted.  We found other ways to make sure that the ceremony reflected my mother's values. This was especially true in California, when we had more time to plan and we could involve more people who were important to my mother. 


In the case of Little Ped, who died just two weeks ago, the issues of how to handle his death were not so complicated. My stepmother, Allyson,  found out quite unexpectantly that the child she was carrying had a lethal birth defect and could not survive. My grandmother (on my dad's side) had nicknamed him "Little Ped" after my father Pedro and even though he was no larger than the palm of my fathers hand, he still looked very much like a real baby. With the exception of my grandmother, who argued that Little Ped should be given a chance to live, saying that "a miracle could happen", while everyone else respected Allyson's decision to terminate the pregnancy. Nonetheless, we wanted to honor Little Ped and make sure that he received a proper burial. This time, my family wasn't under so much pressure and had time to think about what would be appropriate. Allyson and my father decided that Little Ped should be cremated and that the ashes should be buried with a tree that we will plant in our backyard. Even though we never got to really meet Little Ped, he was still a life- and for me, a little brother, and I think its important that his life is respected and honored. 


Although the two cases I've described are very different, they both share significant similarities. In the case of my mom, we had to deal with a real conflict with her mother over how my mother should be buried and remembered in death. With Little Ped, there was little conflict and no debate. However, in both cases, we felt it was important to find a way to honor the dead and I think we've done an okay job at that.