The last couple weekends have pushed our family to look at death (again). Two Fridays ago we were on the road to Santa Monica to bury my grandma (on my dad’s side), and of course this weekend was Easter weekend. The two experiences, though pretty different, have very common threads. Some questions that have been (re)raised for us that I think apply to both: How do we talk about death? What’s appropriate behavior around death for our family? Is there room for joy and celebration when people die? What do we believe happens to us after we die? What are the family traditions associated with each event?
The thing I love about having kids is that everything with them is an opportunity to explore, question, and have fun. And yes, funerals are fair game. I’m thankful that Sarah and I are able to see that for our own family, and we try to allow the kids to ask whatever they need to ask, give them honest, straight-forward answers, and when needed, gently instruct them on what most people consider appropriate behavior. So even though we headed to LA to grieve, we were also excited about seeing family and enjoying some time by the coast. This context is helpful, especially if you were to hear them shout out excitedly, “We’re going to Nana’s funeral in LA!”
The Saturday after we arrived was a beautiful day for Nana’s funeral and the cemetery she’s buried at was equally beautiful. Palm trees and eucalyptus shade the graves and I told the girls not to jump on the stones in the ground, but we let them run around. They were excited for the new experience and Aliya yelled out, “It’s like a maze!” And it was. Little islands of grass to jump from and around to get to the canopy by the hole that Nana was to be put in.
When all was said and Nana’s urn was placed in the ground, next to her parents, we each took a flower from the wreath the cousins brought and gently dropped it in her grave. The tears flowed freely and the kids were silent and followed along. After we were done, they asked their questions and went back to hopping between graves, back to the car.
Cousin Riki hosted the reception afterward and we enjoyed her hospitality and a slideshow of old photos with each family member filling in the narrative of lives and experiences now long past.
The next day we enjoyed some time with family by the pool and hot tub at the hotel we were staying at, then took a nice walk to and along the beach. Aliya fell asleep in the stroller on the way, so Dad and his wife Susan took Keana and Maia down to the ocean to play for a little bit, while Sarah and I strolled along the sidewalk, enjoying the sea breeze, a little time to talk with each other, and some bad coffee.
Cousin Helen and her husband John took us all out for dinner that night, and we were treated to a dining room to ourselves overlooking the marina at Seal Beach. It brought back happy memories of my childhood when we’d come to LA with Dad to visit the family down there—Granny (who died in 1997); cousins Stan, Riki, and Helen, and their mom, Auntie Helene—and I was grateful that my kids could share in a similar experience, even under the circumstances.
Which sort of brings me to today, Easter. Being raised in a Christian house and spending more than the average time in churches as a kid due to my mom’s occupation as a minister—and later, my occupation as a trumpet player looking to get paid—I always think about how much of the Christian tradition and teachings I want to pass on to my own kids. Sarah’s upbringing was very different, and we try and use our differences as a way to balance what we expose the kids to and hopefully broaden and enrich what they experience. So what they get is really a mix of traditions.
We use natural dye which is basically a boiling process and not much fun for the kids (yet), so I dyed the eggs last night after they went to bed and Sarah put together the baskets. I woke up at 5 a.m. to hide eggs in the backyard, knowing that Maia was going to be waking early with excitement. Yes, the Easter Bunny came to our house, and while I made breakfast, Handel’s Messiah played in the background and we talked about its significance in meaning, but also it’s musical significance (i.e. a religious piece in English as opposed to Latin, identifying the soloists as sopranos, mezzo sopranos, tenors, baritones, etc.). And of course the girls mimicked the singing, sometimes seriously, sometimes mockingly. I also broke into a few hymns on my own along the way, and Keana was pretty into it.
While we ate I talked about what Easter means for Christians, but also how some people don’t celebrate Easter for the Christian reasons but more as a celebration of spring and new life. I did venture a little into how the early church synced up their holidays with pagan holidays as a way to “reach” more people, but then realized I might save that for some other time.
In the end, we want holidays for our kids to be meaningful and not just a time they get presents and sugar. At the same time, we want to encourage celebration and joy and I think presents and sugar can be a part of that. And what I’ve come to realize is that death and funerals aren’t any different. Yes it’s a time to grieve and that can be quiet and somber, but it’s also a time to remember and celebrate someone’s life, which can be lively and joyful. For me—and I’m sure I’ve heard this in some sermon along the way, too—Easter isn’t necessarily about overcoming or conquering death, but accepting it, and through that acceptance, fear of death is lost. For our kids I want death to be a part of life. It’s not good or bad, it just is. It’s happening whether you like it or not, so do your best to get on board…and why not celebrate when you can?