Dad wrote “No Funeral” – Why is there a Funeral?

caissonAt T minus 40 hours to my Dad’s 20-minute funeral service, my Mom’s calls regarding the service begin. Currently, my Mom has two personality modes — the Lion or the Lamb. The Lion is in an uproar.

In the last month of his life, my Dad wrote down on a scrap of paper “No Funeral”. A decade prior, he had updated his documented burial wishes, which was such a gift to us. These were the plans he wrote before he got dementia, and were consistent with what my parent’s had been telling me since my early 20s. I know it seems odd that we had that conversation, but at the time, both my parents were traveling around the globe as part of my father’s job. Before every trip they reminded me where they stored their “written wishes” if something should happen.

Back in October 2012 my Mom talked me through their written burial wishes. My Mom wondered who was going to help her when my father passed away. I asked her why she always started this discussion assuming my Dad was going first. He was sitting in the room with us and was the one to reply “The men die two to three years before the women do.”  Back then, their plans remain unchanged from our previous discussions.

After my parent’s moved into Assisted Living in February 2013, my Mom started to bring up the conversation that they were not interested in having funerals any longer. I supposed it was because they had grown so isolated, they didn’t have many friends left and maybe thought no one would attend their funeral – but that is purely my conjecture. I still try to apply logic to dementia — it is a constant battle I fight and never serves me well. It’s such an easy trap to fall into.

My Dad is being buried with full military honors tomorrow. The service has a caisson with military band and the common practice is to walk with the caisson to the grave site while the band plays. It’s January and the remnants of the polar vortex promise to make a chilly burial.

On each call, my Mom is very angry. She doesn’t understand why we aren’t just going to the “burial site.”  I explained to her that Dad wrote his wishes and that Arlington National Cemetery has them. Logically, I understand her need to manage and bury her husband based on his wishes. However, given the dementia, as their children, we had a brief conversation and decided we should follow the wishes they laid out before the dementia. The problem is, we need to navigate through this with my Mom who doesn’t recognize her dementia and can still manage to engage in a verbal disagreement (she’s a little too good at it now).

My Mom brought this up constantly right after my father’s death but it stopped. It resurfaced a few weeks ago and has now erupted. She tells me that she is getting calls and doesn’t like people telling her there is a “funeral”. I realize that the many friends and family coming to town have no idea about my Mom’s dementia or how to really engage her now. They are wonderful to call but the conversations are setting my Mom off.

My Mom doesn’t understand that the caisson needs a place to pick up the casket and traditionally, the family walks with the caisson and marching band. After going through it once, I tell my Mom that the burial service will start in the chapel and end at the burial site. Due to the cold weather, we are doing some of it indoors so we don’t have to stand in the cold during the entire burial service. She liked that answer. Finessed. 

Please know that some of this is very uncomfortable for me to share with you, however, I wanted to be as open and honest about what we are facing in hopes that it helps you deal with your situation. This is a tough road to navigate. We continue to use the moral compass our parents provided us with to make the best decisions we can while still being mindful of our parent’s wishes. 

For specific suggestions on how to manage a difficult conversation with someone who has dementia, check out Three Go-To Tactics for Dealing with Someone who has Dementia. 

5 thoughts on “Dad wrote “No Funeral” – Why is there a Funeral?

  1. Excellent post, Kay! I empathize greatly with the situation you’re in with your mom right now and I can see my own experiences in your description of yours. Thank you for sharing this. The more we share the “trenches” part of this journey, the more we help others as they go through their journeys.

  2. Hang in there and good luck with the day. My mother left no instructions, and had very few friends left being 93, so I made it up as we went along. I decided her ashes should be scattered where my father’s had been, which entailed a bit of research and me flying to the other side of the world, and asked her neighbour to come along, and a couple of friends of mine who had known her well. As we added her remains to the rose garden, a Scottish piper fired up at a much bigger funeral just near us. His lament was very beautiful, although i am not sure Mum actually liked the pipes, but her neighbour, who was Scots, thought it very appropriate. Afterwards we went to a local pub she had liked and had a drink or two, putting a glass of her favourite wine on the shelf above the bar for her, as is the Welsh tradition. It was the best I could come up with in my grief. We do what we can.

  3. I am glad you are sharing this often overlooked aspect of dementia. The disease reaches even beyond death. I think people should re-think their end-of-life wishes and consider provisions that protect against mental status changes like dementia. Of course that wouldn’t help you deal with your mom’s confusion about the situation any better, but it might help alleviate some guilt.

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