A ‘living’ funeral
We tell the people who matter most to us that we love them and we tell them of our love for them now. Not when they are gone. Not when they cannot hear our sweet words anymore.
This is the essence of “A living funeral,” an activity I did in my Purposive Communication class some time ago at St. Vincent College of Cabuyao. (I first learned about it in my Occasional Speeches class in UP Los Baños from the late Dean Edelwina Legaspi in 1989. Then I experienced it again when I attended a lecture of healing priest Fr. Corsie Legaspi in the mid-‘90s in Binakayan, Cavite.)
Death, like life, is a celebration, I told my class. So, we celebrated “A living funeral,” the face-to-face final exam for my students held at the school’s open court. The activity had the students delivering their eulogies for their loved ones — even if they were still alive. I explained to the class that often the regret of the living is not being able to show or verbalize their love for their loved ones when they were still alive.
The shock value for this particular class included a real coffin with lights, curtains, candles and flowers on top of the casket. The pallbearers from San Ramon Funeral Homes, whose owners agreed to lend me and the school the needed elements for a funeral scene, arrived at SVCC early in the morning. (You can just imagine the astonishment in the eyes of those who were not part of our class.)
“Life and death are the same. They ought to be celebrated. In between those moments are happiness and sorrow, hope and longing, start and pause, triumphs and tribulations, ups and downs, giggles and tears. In the end, it is what is in between life and death that matters the most,” I told the class, whose members came in white and black.
“Why do we fear death so much when in fact death is also life — because the end is also the springboard for something new, something meaningful, something relevant, something beautiful,” I said.
The students delivered their well-written eulogies for their loved ones, who are still alive.
That’s why it’s called a “living funeral.”
“When are we going to tell the people we love that we love them? We tell them now while they are still alive, while they can still hear us, while they can still relish our sweet words, while they can return to us the kind words,” I said after one student “eulogized” his grandfather, the very person who raised him after his parents separated.
Part of the activity is for students to explain to their loved ones the essence of the exercise. And they needed to make them read their speeches before or after they were delivered in class.
The impact was instant. One female student, after her speech, hid behind the stage, the coffin still within her sight. She was crying as she read her letter, like a palanca during a retreat, to her mom who was an OFW in the Middle East. She purged her emotion and perfumed her conversation with “sorry.” She said it was the first time she was that emotional and she felt good. She thanked me. But I said she should thank herself because she was open to the idea.
Another student gave a tribute to her dog — the love of her life, her everything. She explained that pets are family members, too. Her pet brings her to the door when she leaves for school and it is there, too, by the door when she arrives home. And she could not imagine a world without her four-legged love.
“We shouldn’t be coy about our love for them. We owe them this love. Why should we deny them this feeling? Trust me, this activity will make you close or closer to them. Who doesn’t want to hear good words about himself or herself? Who doesn’t want to feel loved. Let’s do it now. Let’s say it now,” I said.
Many of the students penned eulogies for their still living best friends, siblings, parents and grandparents. Tears flowed from their eyes.
Everyone is wondering what is life after death? There are many theories and speculations when a person dies. Death is defined as “the end of life, the total and permanent cessation of all the viral function of an organism.” When there is a funeral the main subject is the departed but when we look around and observe, the subject is also the individuals left behind.
It was an unusual activity — weird or macabre to say the least — but my students felt free and freed when I allowed them to express their overflowing feelings and thoughts for their family and friends. I taught them regret pesters the very nerve of the human being’s morality simply because of pride, because of a kind of love not expressed, or an apology never uttered. An apology, I said, is the meekest and humblest form of love.
“What is wrong about expressing your love for your loved ones? If it is not a norm or a common thing in your system, when are you going to normalize it? Start somewhere, start small if you are really not the type to express it. But start somewhere and thank yourself later,” I added, as I stood beside the rented coffin. “Let’s say the magic word of love while the moment still counts, while the time still matters.”
The students had happy tears after the activity. Only then I felt our final exam had a big impact to them. To give importance and appreciation to their parents, sisters, brothers and friends — even their pets — while they were still alive. It was something they would never forget.
There was stillness and awakening in an activity that dealt with death. More than that, there was life. Renewed, reset, restored. And in some cases — repaired. Love is healing.
At the end of the exam, even with a white coffin in front of the class, joy stayed with my students. It was joy found in sacred silence, in gentle stillness. They had found a new and unforgettable life — in our discussion of death. *
It was an unusual activity — weird or macabre to say the least — but my students felt free and freed when I allowed them to express their overflowing feelings and thoughts for their family and friends.
(For your new beginnings, e-mail me at [email protected]. I’m also on Twitter @bum_tenorio and Instagram @bumtenorio.
Have a blessed weekend.)
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