After my mother was certified dead by the hospital Registrar, I simply informed the nursing staff that I wished to take my mother home. They did not seem particularly shocked or surprised; they were in fact thoughtful and helpful. They laid my mother on a hospital trolley and wheeled her down to the waiting car of one of my mother’s supportive friends.
They helped us lay my mother down as if she were sleeping on the back seat of the sedan. No shroud or covering of any sort was used or seemed necessary. We then simply drove off with no questions asked by hospital staff as to what we’d do next.
When we arrived back home, my brother was in the driveway waiting for Mum. He tenderly lifted her into his arms, carried her in and gently laid her on her bed. We did not cover her face or anything like that. I immediately lit a fire in the living room to start a vigil for our mother. This fire was kept alive over three days, until the time when her body was taken to the grave.
We opted for a simple funeral with the undertakers coming at the final moment to drive my mother to the cemetery in the coffin they brought with them. Personally, I would have liked to drive mum’s body to the cemetery myself in the family’s van, but my brother thought that would undignified for her so I agreed to his wishes.
My brother and other family and friends were the pallbearers. The funeral service was entirely organised by my brother and me – we gave the eulogy and let the proceedings. The grandchildren sang and threw huge sunflowers into the grave as a symbol of life; yellow was also their grandmother’s favourite colour. Friends were invited to share memories and people recited poetry in several languages.
Not everyone shared my views about how to wake of funeral should be conducted. There were family members who felt confronted and offended by the body being brought home, and they did not allow their children to come to the home vigil to see the body. However, in the end the important thing was that my brother and I had created a funeral ceremony that we believed would best honour our mother. After the funeral, friend commented on how much they had been moved and inspired – even those who originally had been upset or disapproving ended up feeling this way.
Story reproduced with the author’s permission, from the book Funeral Rights by Robert Larkins
