Funerals important to rural communities but restricted
during pandemic; writer shares his experience with a Zoom
funeral
Funerals important to rural communities but restricted
during pandemic; writer shares his experience with a Zoom
funeral
Funerals are important community events, especially in rural areas,
allowing friends and family the chance to to say goodbye to their
loved ones and support each other through a difficult time, as
Donna Kallner
wrote for The Daily Yonder in May.
But funerals can help spread the coronavirus;
two
funerals in rural Georgia in early March did just that, turning
southwest Georgia into a pandemic hotspot.
With restrictions or bans on funerals (along with other public
gatherings), some Americans are turning to the same technology that
helps them work to help them mourn.
Jeremy N Smith recounts his recent experience attending a funeral
via Zoom in a recent
piece for Slate: "I had no idea what to expect. That
phrase—'Zoom funeral'—sounds so tacky and degrading. Who would
come? How would it work? What would people wear? Would we be
gathering respectfully to mourn a loved one, or slouch on our
respective couches, alone together, arguing with other family
members at home about how to position the phone, tablet, or laptop
screen, with the cat mewling to be fed?"
But Smith logged in, wearing a suit and tie but no shoes, and saw
his great uncle Larry, who had died of covid-19, on the screen in a
closed coffin at the mausoleum. His uncle's son, his spouse, and
the rabbi (all wearing masks) were the only ones there in person
and the rabbi sat more than six feet away from the couple. More
than 50 households joined the service, talking amongst themselves
as they waited for the service to start, like at any normal
funeral.
As different family members shared stories and read Scripture, "I
laughed and cried, embarrassed but grateful that I could get up and
grab a roll of toilet paper when my scant supply of tissues ran
out," Smith writes. He marveled at the fact that, through this Zoom
funeral, he was able to meet a host of second cousins he had never
been introduced to, "virtually but very much face-to-face, and in
the intimacy of our living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, and home
offices instead of a more alien public setting. Close enough to see
the books on one another’s shelves, the art on our walls, and the
photos on our mantel. Close enough to meet each other’s eyes."
In some ways, a Zoom funeral might be better than the
traditional service, Smith writes. He doubts he would have been
able to attend his uncle's funeral in Florida under traditional
circumstances, but "here I was home and with Larry—and at
the homes of my extended family. The Zoom funeral left me feeling
much more connected to everyone involved—and to everyone else who
has lost a loved one during this pandemic. And it made me
appreciate the ways technology like Zoom can make clearer our
shared experiences—how it can literally show us all the other
lives—and deaths—happening one 'square' over.
Funerals are important community events, especially in rural areas,
allowing friends and family the chance to to say goodbye to their
loved ones and support each other through a difficult time, as
Donna Kallner
wrote for The Daily Yonder in May.
But funerals can help spread the coronavirus;
two
funerals in rural Georgia in early March did just that, turning
southwest Georgia into a pandemic hotspot.
With restrictions or bans on funerals (along with other public
gatherings), some Americans are turning to the same technology that
helps them work to help them mourn.
Jeremy N Smith recounts his recent experience attending a funeral
via Zoom in a recent
piece for Slate: "I had no idea what to expect. That
phrase—'Zoom funeral'—sounds so tacky and degrading. Who would
come? How would it work? What would people wear? Would we be
gathering respectfully to mourn a loved one, or slouch on our
respective couches, alone together, arguing with other family
members at home about how to position the phone, tablet, or laptop
screen, with the cat mewling to be fed?"
But Smith logged in, wearing a suit and tie but no shoes, and saw
his great uncle Larry, who had died of covid-19, on the screen in a
closed coffin at the mausoleum. His uncle's son, his spouse, and
the rabbi (all wearing masks) were the only ones there in person
and the rabbi sat more than six feet away from the couple. More
than 50 households joined the service, talking amongst themselves
as they waited for the service to start, like at any normal
funeral.
As different family members shared stories and read Scripture, "I
laughed and cried, embarrassed but grateful that I could get up and
grab a roll of toilet paper when my scant supply of tissues ran
out," Smith writes. He marveled at the fact that, through this Zoom
funeral, he was able to meet a host of second cousins he had never
been introduced to, "virtually but very much face-to-face, and in
the intimacy of our living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, and home
offices instead of a more alien public setting. Close enough to see
the books on one another’s shelves, the art on our walls, and the
photos on our mantel. Close enough to meet each other’s eyes."
In some ways, a Zoom funeral might be better than the
traditional service, Smith writes. He doubts he would have been
able to attend his uncle's funeral in Florida under traditional
circumstances, but "here I was home and with Larry—and at
the homes of my extended family. The Zoom funeral left me feeling
much more connected to everyone involved—and to everyone else who
has lost a loved one during this pandemic. And it made me
appreciate the ways technology like Zoom can make clearer our
shared experiences—how it can literally show us all the other
lives—and deaths—happening one 'square' over.