When Alex died we had a viewing and then cremation. Because of all the chemo and steroids, he looked nothing like himself. So for me it wasn't all that helpful. I can't speak to the rest of the fam.

I didn't go to the service where his mother buried the ashes because my parents weren't invited, and I didn't want step dad alone that day. So no closure there.

What actually did it was step-dad putting some of the ashes on a great big roman candle we set off on his birthday (a tradition we continue from when Alex was alive). That's when I got hold of the finality of it.

I loathed the one viewing I've attended so viscerally that I will never attend another. I'm told there's a big difference between seeing an ordinary dead body (I've only ever seen photos) and what a gussied-up funeral corpse looks like; but the latter was enough to convince me for ever afterwards to call a dead body "it." That thing didn't deserve a personal pronoun, not from me.

In sum, bury me unsullied, standing up under the roots of a sapling, so that I may at least be useful.

OK, this is just weird....

BAGHDAD (AFP) - Iraqi Shiite residents of Baghdad's Sadr City have expressed anger on over a picture of a grinning Jesus they mistook for a Shiite holy figure that appeared in the area after a joint US-Iraqi operation.

Residents found a picture of "Buddy Jesus" from the 1999 film "Dogma" posted in the streets, accompanied by a badly photocopied pamphlet bearing a crude approximation of a US military crest and outlining a US "plan" to subjugate the neighborhood.

"That picture abuses our Imam Mahdi and his holy character, and mocks our sacred figures," said resident Abu Riyam Sunday, apparently mistaking the satirical movie still of Jesus for one of Shiite Islam's historical imams, whose images adopt a Jesus-like iconography.

The grinning, winking model of Buddy Jesus giving a thumbs-up sign appeared in the comedy film as a fictional attempt by the Catholic Church to present a kinder and more accessible image of Christianity.

"If it wasn't so serious it would be funny," said a coalition spokesman, Major Will Willhoite.

[link]

One of my great grandmothers had a suitcase with everything she wanted to buried in -- the dress, shoes, hose, and make up. Included was a detailed letter about exactly how she wanted her hair and make up done.

Every funeral I've been to has had a viewing. Mom got upset about her Dad's viewing because the funeral home had put one of his rings on the wrong hand and she felt they did that so they could fold his hands and hide his hand with only 4 1/2 fingers. I have no idea if that was the reason but she wasn't happy.

After his funeral we went back to my grandparents' house and people talked, told stories, and laughed. The kids (including me) watched The Wizard of Oz because it was on tv. One of my cousins was just so upset about how "disrespectful" we all were. I think she wanted us all to be sobbing and tearing our clohtes, but Grandpa J had been sick a very long time and it was a blessing when he finally died.

I don't think I went to the viewing of my other grandfather, I think I did but I don't think I looked at him. I was there when he died and said my good byes then.

Mom wants a cremation and a party.

I loathed the one viewing I've attended so viscerally that I will never attend another. I'm told there's a big difference between seeing an ordinary dead body (I've only ever seen photos) and what a gussied-up funeral corpse looks like; but the latter was enough to convince me for ever afterwards to call a dead body "it." That thing didn't deserve a personal pronoun, not from me.

This has been my experience. Although both my parents were cremated with memorial services only months later, my dad insisted on having a private viewing of my mom. Having seen her both at the hospital and the funeral home, I can honestly say there is no comparison whatsoever. My dad and I both agreed that whatever was there in front of us it certainly was not my mom. Living wills and instructions were drawn up shortly thereafter. Needless to say, the experience was not repeated when he died. And I certainly hope it is not for me. Plus, I find the ridiculous expense of the whole funeral thing even more absurd than American weddings.

A neighbor went with us to the mortuary to check on the grandmother before the funeral. Poor dear went apoplectic, exclaiming, "They put the wrong lipstick on her! She wouldn't be caught dead in that co..." and then burst into tears.

At 14, I thought it was sort of funny...and it struck me how easily we toss out phrases (I could just DIE. I'm going to KILL her! She wouldn't be caught DEAD in that) without thinking.

The neighbor would not be consoled until a tech came out, wiped off the wrong lipstick and applied the one supplied by the neighbor. it was so tense and so sad and seemed so unnecessary to be SO upset over such a thing. I can't imagine that, even if my grandmother's spirit was still around, that she'd have cared much.

I find the ridiculous expense of the whole funeral thing even more absurd than American weddings.

I think I understand the open casket notion, in terms of closure, but I've never felt 'better', if you will, for having seen the body.

The notion that people get more closure from an open casket was actually something promoted by the funeral industry. Not based on any psychological study.

Personally I found my mother's taxidermied body to be very freaky and alienating in the coffin. Not in the least comforting. Closure was not an issue since she was at home when she died.

What struck me at my granddad's pre-funeral open-casket viewing (the most recent one I've attended) was how many people, after wandering up to the coffin, said "He looks *great,* doesn't he?"

And I wanted to say to every one of them, "No; he looks DEAD." It didn't look like him sleeping -- there was nothing left there to animate what was in the coffin. Big difference.

The notion that people get more closure from an open casket was actually something promoted by the funeral industry. Not based on any psychological study.

I can believe that. And I say that having an uncle who has worked in the funeral industry since he was in high school, and is one of the nicest, gentlest people ever. (He's very good at what he does, too, in that he's very comforting and understanding.)

That said, I do think it's weird. And often very upsetting. Ben was almost eight when Stephen's mother died, and he was okay (she'd been ill, strokes, etc.) until we went to the viewing. He took one look at her in the casket and completely lost it.

I don't want to be buried. Even my FiL, who doesn't believe in cremation, is upset that he buried my MiL way up here, because he knows that once he's gone, no one will be left in this area to visit the graves. He never even visited his own parents' graves, or so he's said. And that makes me sad, even though logically I know it *shouldn't* -- the person you've lost isn't actually lying there in the ground, but the idea of a grave sitting untended and unvisited for years on end is somehow awful.

The notion that people get more closure from an open casket was actually something promoted by the funeral industry. Not based on any psychological study.

This I totally believe.

Fortunately, when my great aunt died in my house, I woke up...right then, I believe...and she was still warm when I found her. So much so, I was a bit confused for a minute. The fact that (whitefonted for the possible squick factor) she'd stopped breathing, swallowed her tongue and had no heart beat just didn't register right away. Still, I knew the second that I woke up that she was gone.

Rather than being freaked out, I was just so, incredibly glad for her that the suffering was over. I laid my head on her shoulder and, just for a moment, got a whiff of that wonderful combination of Oil of Olay and starch that always characterizes her in my mind. It was like the effects of the various cancers had just floated away, in an opposite direction from her soul.

That moment was all I needed...knowing that the man who loved her for 60 years died on the same morning, in a neighboring state...I'm so glad we didn't have a funeral.