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My sister died last month. She had terminal cancer, and we knew the day would come.
She knew the day would come also, so she made 'all the arrangements'. And the one major arrangements she made was to donate her body to science. First and foremost was "to search every inch of my body and use whatever findings for a cure for this dreadful disease." The second reason was to take a stand on something that always bothered my sister. The amount of money spent on the dead.
With body donation, there is no body to lay out in a casket at a funeral home-no body to hold a funeral for- no body to bury. When my sister was making these arrangements, we supported her. Praised her for being so admirable. She joked about the money we were going to save, and we laughed along- because, well, laughing during that time was rare and needed.
When she died, her body was removed from the hospital. We did get a chance to 'say good-bye' and the hospice workers (the greatest people in the world) allowed us all the time we needed. But then she was gone. My other sister and brothers- we all wondered the same thing. "Now what do we do."
We announced her death through our local paper and arranged to have a memorial service at my sister's house. Friends and family members all arrived for what my brother called, "The Agnostic Shivva- with a Christian twist". We scattered pictures of my sister throughout the room and tried to mimic as much as possible a 'wake and funeral', always trying to keep in mind that this is what she wanted. But...
Without the ritual, there was no proof of her death. By not having to sit in a funeral parlor and stare at the flowers surrounding the body, the realization that she was no longer with us was hard to accept. By not placing the flower on the casket at the cemetery, there was no way to acknowledge that she died.
I understand the need for people to want to arrange their funerals. It's the one party you can't attend, so last wishes are your only hope for things to go your way. But funerals are not for the dead. They are for the living- and provide a need for closure and an outlet for grief.
I remember 'losing it' in the bathroom of the funeral home after my brother died. I remember crying at the cemetery when my father died. Every wake and funeral I had attended during my lifetime- how all were the same, yet each different in their own way. A time to mourn.
That's what was missing with my sister. But then, we mourned for the three months we knew she was dying. We cried with each other so we could smile for her. When she died, I remember the feeling of, "Well, that's it. It's over."
My sister hated funerals- money spent on the dead. And she donated her body because while nothing could be done for her, perhaps something could be done for others.
I just wish I had had more time to say good-bye. Like another lifetime.