A Funeral Director’s Perspective on Virtual Memorials
Guest Post written by Emily Bootle of DeathcareBC
My name is Emily Bootle, I am a licensed funeral director and embalmer living in Vancouver, BC. At the beginning of the pandemic I had a management gig at a very busy funeral home serving around 80 families a month. March hit and I did my best to steer the ship, hulking and massive, in an unanticipated storm.
We went from encouraging services and attempting to get families to consider holding a ceremony, to suddenly having to take an entirely different approach. For the first time in my career I had to guide families away from gathering, away from their communities, in the name of the common good. It went against everything I believe about community deathcare.
In January 2020 I was hosting events frequently with up to 150 guests in attendance. They were weeping, expressive, haunting, and often joyous occasions. Every week I witnessed the damp-faced human spectacle that is our collective ceremonies acknowledging a loss.
By May 2020 I was saying “No” in every conversation and saving my weeping for the shower at the end of the day. The initial months of the pandemic created a rift in our communities that we will be working to cross in all our futures to come. There was a rift in myself that used to be filled by hugs from strangers and holding hands with the elderly.
Finally in October it was time to leave my job. I put in my one month notice and put my head down, determined not to leave my staff, my people, completely in the lurch. That same month my dear great-aunt died in a town about 100km away. My cousin called and asked me the age-old question, “What do I do?”, and I told her to wait right there I’m on my way.
I got in the car and barrelled out to her care home and met a beloved funeral director friend at the front door with her transfer van. They allowed me to enter the facility as a funeral director, had I been family only I would not have been let in. Once in my Aunt’s room I was able to see my cousin and give her a quick-light-COVID-hug.
We spent twenty minutes with my Aunt’s body, we made light jokes, talked about how peaceful she looked, and finally cut a lock of hair before shrouding her in a clean sheet. We parted ways and I went to bring her body to the morgue facility before going home for the night.
As I drove back towards the city I thought about my pending departure from the funeral home. How much I would miss the hands-on and human parts of my work. See here is the thing, my new job wasn’t going to be at another funeral home, no no. I was going to work in Virtual Memorials.
Virtual Memorials. In a world where I can put a VR headset on and be transported to the point-of-view of a goose is it any surprise that we would adapt to Virtual Funerals so seamlessly? My dear friend Christina Andreola had moved her personalized memorial event services with New Narrative Memorials onto Zoom and was looking for some help.
My Aunt had an extensive community network and family in the United States and Canada. With Christina’s guidance (and by hiring her company) we were able to put on a memorial service that included prayer, music, photos, and story-sharing. It was my first experience of this format and it exceeded all of my expectations.
Having reached a state of burnout in my current role, I decided to take the leap and work with Christina at New Narrative. After saying “No” to families, and “No” to services for so many months I felt the weight being lifted. There is another option, there is another way for people to gather despite this alienating experience of death we kept having. I was able to say “Yes” and provide real, tangible, meaningful experiences to families once again.
These are my favourite bits so far:
All the little squares. Each with a face (the full face! No mask!) looking back at all of the faces - old, young, sad, thoughtful, alone, in groups, laughing, crying. Each hearing the same music, same stories, and sharing these moments from their own homes. Connecting through ceremony.
Comfort. The hard seats, the hot summers and cold winters, the standing, the sitting. In these memorials I’m witnessing guests who are fully in comfort - no high heels or tight suits in sight. People blowing their noses freely on mute with no fear of judgment.
Accessibility. Hard of hearing? Turn on the closed captioning or crank the volume. Unable to travel due to kids/cost/commitments? You can still be there for the family.
Open Mic Storytelling. In my time I have been to many, many funerals. I have seen celebrants open the floor to guests for sharing stories and memories. The idea of getting up and speaking in front of a large group is enough that I typically see only a small handful of speakers. Not so in the virtual world. Are you shy but have a story you want to share to honour a friend? Not to worry, simply minimize that window and let your heart speak.
Creative potential in the medium. After my Aunt’s service I heard from more than one person who attended that it was like watching a documentary of her life told by her family and those who love her. People who only knew her in the last 30 years of her 90 were able to glimpse into her past and take all the pieces. This was crafted together uniquely using photos, videos, recordings of family, and recordings of my Aunt.
Reading the chat. In-person events have guestbooks. As everyone streams in they scrawl their names one-by-one, sometimes with a note for the families. In comparison, the expressions coming through in the Zoom Chat are like poetry. Individuals expressing in full detailed sentences the emotions they want to present to the family. This is a brand new type of keepsake, one that would be very hard to replicate offline.
Watching the highlights. Most virtual events are recorded to be shared with people who couldn’t attend or to be re-watched by the family. One of the beautiful things is to be able to watch the Gallery recording for reactions you may have missed during the real-time event. I have re-watched a specific moment in my Aunt’s service many times, where everyone’s faces lit up at once while watching a video of her. This piece of a moment is another very real new keepsake.
What the future will hold. Hybrid memorial events are what I hope we will take forward from this time. When we are able to be together again and holding hands, kissing, hugging our communities, remember to hold that virtual door open.
The year is (late) 2021. I sincerely hope to have some version of my funeral suit back on again and to be back to work physically present and serving families. We will be relishing and appreciating the juicy experience of having more than three households in a room at one time. I am sure it will be overwhelming and gratifying all at once.
Families will ask if they’re allowed to have services and I will respond with an enthusiastic “YES, yes, thank you for asking yes you can”. I will begin ordering flowers, crafting playlists, and picking out catering options once again.
It will all feel familiar, comfortable, and normal again. All except for a new question that I will ask each family as we run through our song lists and photo albums:
“And how do you plan to include your Virtual Community?”
Bring on the new challenges and moments that the Hybrid world of memorials and funerals will hold. On we go toward a future where our global communities are welcomed into our spaces of ceremony, grief, and loss.