forevr

Paying your respects when you cannot be there

2 min read

Most people cannot get to most funerals. Work, distance, cost, health, a border, four days' notice. It is not a failure of feeling, and the guilt attached to it is out of proportion to the fact.

What matters is doing something deliberate instead of letting the week pass.

Say you cannot come, plainly

Do not go quiet, and do not over-explain. A family reading a long justification has to manage your feelings on the worst day of theirs.

I'm so sorry — I can't get back for Thursday, and I hate that. I'll be thinking about all of you.

Send something to be read on the day

This is the single most effective thing available to you, and hardly anyone does it.

Write a paragraph about the person — an actual memory, not condolences — and ask whoever is organizing the service whether someone could read it, or include it in the service sheet.

If there's a moment for it, I'd love someone to read this. If not, please keep it for yourselves.

Your words are in the room. It is not the same as being there, and it is much closer than a card.

Ask whether it is being streamed

Many funerals now are, and many families forget to say. Crematoria and churches increasingly offer a link. It costs nothing to ask.

If you do watch, tell the family afterwards that you did, and mention something specific from it. Otherwise they have no idea you were present.

Mark it where you are

At the same hour, do something. Leave the desk. Light a candle. Go to the nearest water. Play the song. Sit with a photograph.

This sounds sentimental and is mostly practical: the hour of the funeral is hard wherever you are, and having somewhere to put it helps.

Do the thing nobody else will do

The funeral is crowded. Week six is not, and week six is worse.

  • Send something in a month, when the cards have stopped.
  • Call on the anniversary.
  • Visit when you can, even a year later, and ask to go to the grave.
  • Send a photograph they do not have. Families run out of new pictures of someone very quickly, and a photograph nobody in the family has seen is the most extraordinary gift available.

Absence at the funeral is forgiven quickly. Presence six months later is remembered permanently.

If the family is spread out

Where most of the family is far away — which is now the usual case rather than the exception — the practical problem is that everyone holds a fragment and nobody holds the whole.

One shared place that any of them can open and add to solves a surprising amount of it: the cousin who could not travel adds the photograph, the sibling who spoke adds the eulogy, and the people who were in the room and the people who were not end up with the same thing.

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