Haunting presence
Is there a psychologically satisfactory way of disposing of a dead person’s body? That’s a judgement only you can make. If you buy into a belief system you’ll probably have no difficulty because faith renders what must be done, the burning, the burying, the dissolution and the nature of it, rational and purposeful. Rational, that is, in the context of faith, not of objective reason, so you can call it kidology if you like just as one faith will denounce another faith’s practices as superstition. Until we can feel sure about what happens next, when we die, we’ll never be clear of unease and puzzlement. Because what we have to do is to get our heads around horror.
The beauty of burial is that it results in the permanent relocation of the complete body. You think it’s all over as the soil rattles down on the coffin. It is. Your hands are now empty.
Not so with cremation. You get a version of the body back. You haven’t necessarily conducted a full imaginative rehearsal for this. Suddenly, there it is. Now get your head around what it has become, its composition, its dimensions, its divisibility, its ludicrous portability, the way it haunts. What to do with these pulverised bone fragments we call ashes? In the words of one blogger diarist in the US, “I'm not really sure how I feel about all this urn-as-dad stuff. Or dad-as-urn.”
She starts her post: “I never thought we'd be the type of family who would refer to an urn of ashes by name. And yet, here I was, a day after my father's funeral, reading over my mom's list of what to pack for our trip down to the Outer Banks and right after "beach towels" and "fishing rods" was "Jim."”
Read the rest here.
Labels: ashes
posted by Charles Cowling at
11:15
6 Comments:
"The beauty of burial is that it results in the permanent relocation of the complete body. You think it’s all over as the soil rattles down on the coffin. It is. Your hands are now empty.
Not so with cremation. You get a version of the body back."
Actually Charles, this distinction in terms of final disposition between burial and cremation is not always as clear as you make it, certainly not in many aboriginal cultures and not even in all western ones.
This year, on the 3rd anniversary of the death of my Greek wife's grandmother, my mother-in-law needs to go back to the tomb of her mother to clean out and reinstall the bones back into the grave. This is traditional in Greece. And it doesn't merely serve practical purposes such as compacting the remains for the next family burial etc. It has a religious meaning I've yet to discover.
In many traditional aboriginal cultures, similar practices are common. There are two phases, corresponding to your "cremated remains dilemma": the purification of the remains by decomposition or other destruction of the fleshy "earthly" parts; then the installation of the cleaned remains in a permanent place of rest. Until their purification, the remains are potentially dangerous to the living, spiritually speaking - although as a pure materialist one could speculate about hygienic concerns being the basis of the spiritual practices. Once purified, the remains become harmless to the living, indeed they become sacred, since they create a symbolic connection with the dead and the afterworld. They form the basis of the ancestor cult.
What is especially relevent here: in some of these cultures, cremation is used for the first purification phase. The cremated remains are then ritually placed in their final home. As something no longer fearful but rather sacred, they can even rest in or near the home.
Essentially your observation in this article points to the enormous need of our secularized society to apply themselves to these death-matters a little more deeply and less tritely. Other cultures understood better the "remains dilemma", and they figured out psychological/spiritual solutions. Perhaps our own culture, confused and insensitive to these matters, could learn something from them. For example that the final home of cremated remains is an important issue and taking the path of least psychological resistance may not work. (I think in particular of scattering, which I personally object to.)
It's an interesting dilemma.
I'm of the "when you're dead, you're dead" school of thought. I understand the need of the funeral as a ritual of goodbye for the living, but when I'm gone, I think that I won't be around anywhere to know what's happened to my body and therefore won't care. (I only say this to explain my position - I'm not trying to be controversial; I know what I think, but I don't know that I'm right).
However, there was a part in the rest of the blog that made me take a moment of thought. It's the part where the writer talks about having some of her father's ashes in a pendant.
The first time I heard a bereaved family say that their loved one's ashes were being split, I had to try hard to stop the surprise and expression of "eeugh" showing on my face. To me there was something weird about splitting the ashes.
I know that this isn't logical, but something in my head was saying that it doesn't matter what happens to them as long as whatever it is, keeps them complete within an area.
Yeah, I know - hypocrite? I hope not, but possibly. When I think about it rationally, then what happens really makes no difference.
Maybe I just don't want to carry a part of my Mum around with me? I've already got her memories, her constant battle with facial hair (TMI? Sorry) her high cholesterol and her short temper - I don't need part of what used to be her body, too.
I suppose it comes back to that thing that we all want people to have - choice to deal with their dead how they want, and whichever way gives them the most comfort.
Tricky problem, I agree. I've always thought that one of the main reasons for a ceremony around body disposal is to make the psychological separation between the person and the body - the disposal problem that until a few days ago was one of the most precious things in your life. You wouldn't dream of putting your wife in a hole and covering her with earth if she was alive (I hope); and it takes, and helps to make, a majour adjustment - it's not her we're doing it to, so where and what is she now?
But just as her ashes present another problem, even burial doesn't guarantee she won't be dug up - unlikely, but think psyche. It strikes me as like having made your traumatic and emotional goodbye to your dearest friend emigrating to Australia, only for him to come back for his sunglasses.
Nature had a perfectly workable way of doing it until we civilised Her. Maybe it is She we ought to be asking this question of?
I love the idea of dealing with the bones of our ancestors, I wish we had the courage to face that kind of thing here.
Folks gathered around a fresh-dug grave, children peering down - and down and down ....... a mess of flowers and soil mixing on the boxtop - the warm sun, pissing rain, the sleeting wind: there's nothing like a burial for lasting images of disposal. I feel that there's nothing weird about burial, it's just shockingly final - the most potent and vivid of funeral rites.
Yet less than a third of us ask for burial vs. cremation. Perhaps
cremation diffuses the feelings and the ritual of disposal, until The Curtain. But then its seconds before it's Exit Music and we're out the side door. Perhaps its the scattering or burial of the ashes that provides an acceptable, private focus for those who return us to the elements.
You have an interesting take on the options of burial vs. cremation.
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