We Lit Nine Candles: The Remembrance Service
On Tuesday night we held our 12th Annual Candlelight Remembrance Service at the Laguna Hills Community Center.
These evenings are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
The evening started cheerfully enough as families filtered in and re-connected with different staff members that helped them. There are always hugs but then the context of our relationship tends to hit and the mood grows somber. For many, this is a night looked for and cherished for the healing it has brought. There is anxiety for some who don’t know what they will experience or maybe don’t want to experience anything. For others, it’s a struggle just to walk through the doors.
As families take their seats the silence in the room becomes profound. By the time 7 o’clock comes the hearts brimming with emotion and memory are ready to be poured out.
But this year our service opened differently.
2013 has been a particularly prominent year of loss for the staff at O’Connor. People sometimes think that funeral directors & mortuary employees have hearts that are hardened to grief, that somehow our exposure could make us immune. If working at a mortuary meant you didn’t feel grief we would receive thousands of applications a day.
Chuck said it well when he wrote, “Doing what we do, I swear some people think we are immune to the pain and angst that a loved one’s death can bring. We are not and I know it is the hardest thing we can go through in this life.” If you remember his blog from a month ago, you’ll recall that he does know what he’s talking about.
But, you see, it’s actually the exact opposite. Most of us at O’Connor have experienced a personal, family death first-hand. We aren’t inexperienced or hardened against grief. We have had death forced on us just like the families we serve. We feel called to this job not because of what we can’t feel, but because of what we have felt.
our 9 candles
In 2013, 9 of our employees experienced a close, family death. That means roughly 1/4 of our staff is actively grieving a significant loss.
So this year warranted something different. We lit 9 candles in memory of the husband, brothers, parents (one employee lost both) & grandparents our staff have lost this year.
As candles were lit and pictures played I was struck by two things:
1. Everyone gathered in that room was connected, one to the other, by grief. We had 70 different families who chose to be there, to remember, to honor their loved one before others. For some families this was the only service held for their loved one, or the only one they were able to attend. It’s an evening with many purposes as unique as the individual but all centered on their grief.
In Memory of Lou Collins
That connection was palpable. I observed a compassionate person offer Kleenex across the aisle to a teary stranger. I watched as whole families, a spouse, or a group of friends stood as they heard the name they were there for read aloud.
2. The second thing I found particularly profound was that because of this grief-connection, there was a sense of community rather than the aloneness that usually accompanies grief. While grief can be isolating in it’s specificity & uniqueness, it is difficult to stand in a room surrounded by weepy families and think that you are alone in your pain. I think many found it encouraging to be reminded that others have lost, others are facing a first Christmas without that special someone, others will be crying through the holidays, like you.
Our speaker, a Hospice Chaplain commented on the need to have grace for yourself. Grief is messy, there’s no clear road. Take out the “I should be’s” and just be where you are.
If you’d like more information for yourself or others you know that are having a particularly hard Christmas & Holiday season, click here to see the different grief-specific brochures available. “When You Grieve During the Holidays” is particularly poignant.
Have you ever attended our Candlelight Remembrance Service?
Who were you there to remember? What was your experience like?
37 Comments
Oh dear sweet Molly,
I am sobbing as I am reading this, then suddenly saw Lou’s picture up on the screen in the last shot you incorporated and totally lost it. This was hard for me to attend, but yet so healing. April and every one of my grands, Alex, Tim, Jessica, and Joey came. I was so thankful, and it was helpful for each of them. 4 of my dear neighbor friends came as well: Joan and Judy have come for 4 years anyway, for Joan’s dear husband, Tom and Judy’s precious daughter, Dena, but also Cheri and Marta came along to support. Cheri just lost her only sister weeks ago, unexpectedly. I knew I was not the only one grieving, yet instead of extending my care through reading the names as I have done for the past 11 years, and greeting guests at the door before and after, I was one who was grieving.
As I watched everyone’s picture on the screen, like in past years, I put myself in their place and mourned with them for seconds, and then there was Lou’s photo and it was just so overwhelming. I am sure he was watching down on us and glad to see us all there together. He would be proud of his family and our friends, knowing that we were supporting each other and making “monuments”.
Beyond the family and friends, I felt watchful care and concern and yes, love, from those that I work with, making sure I was doing ok. It felt good. And boy, I needed it!! And I am sure that Mark and Shasta, Jon and Melanie, Carrie, Becky, Jennifer, Lauren and Erin felt the love, too.
I believe more strongly in this annual event than just about anything we do for our families. I wish every one of them had been able to participate.
Thank you for honoring Lou in this blog.
You know, I have been slowly writing blog segments about the process of losing Lou and it is not a happy thing to write about, and maybe one might think, not appropriate for the “season”, but every single family who has lived through or is living through the same thing, knows it does not matter what day or season it is…it only matters that someone understands your pain and your journey.
I am so thankful for where I work and for what we do every day to help grieving hearts.
Love
Annie
Anne,
My heart just broke for you when I saw Lou’s photo. I had seen the slide show in part when we were preparing and his image just stopped me in my tracks. It’s so strange to see pictures of people we know playing in these slide shows, so surreal.
I saw the lovely group of ladies there for you, I was so touched when they ALL stood up with you when Lou’s name was read. What wonderful friends.
I am so sorry that you are facing this Christmas, this most special time of year for you, without Lou. But I’m so glad that you made the choice to attend this year rather than host and I hope you feel the strength to make decisions like that for as long as you need to.
It was my privilege to put Lou’s photo in this blog, he’s been a big part of our year and I wanted to have that image saved for you if it helped at all.
Love you my friend, thank you for your beautiful words,
Molly
I am so sad I was unable to attend, I was asked if I wanted to include a picture of my Grandfather who passed in July but I declined because I knew I would already be crying enough with everyone else in the room I was afraid to make it personal, probably for the same reason you wrote this blog, “we are not expected to have our own grief as funeral directors.” I know that statement is false, I guess I am guilty of trying to hide my own while keeping a smile on for the families. I look forward to attending next year and maybe I can include Grandpa Tarvis and light the candle I should have lit on Tuesday.
Jenn, you dear heart. There’s no need for the guilt you are feeling. Grief is a different road for all of us and if you felt this year was too soon, then it was too soon and maybe next year will be the year you get to come & remember him with a photo & candle.
I think you’re wise to see that there is fear in grieving publicly and that it is effecting you. I encourage you to try to let that go, to try to give yourself the permission to cry, grieve & experience your own grief for your grandfather day-by-day.
I put in my grandfather’s photo last year, 6 years after he passed away. I had never attended the service before and although it had been years, I needed it. I took the candle given to me home & lit it in memory of him. It was wonderful.
There’s no “right” time to do this, just make sure that you do do the things that will bring you peace & comfort.
Thank you so much for sharing, I look forward to seeing you & your grandfather next year,
Molly
Oh Carrie, you are one of the people in the forefront of my mind who’s compassion & sympathy for others flows from the deeper places of grief. I am so glad that you felt Jeff honored on Tuesday and even now in this blog. If we as funeral professionals know anything about death it’s that it isn’t fair, it isn’t right, it isn’t how it is supposed to be. That’s why our grief is so hard.
Thank you for coming on Tuesday, for sharing your smile & hugs with so many, and for all the work you do to love & guide others.
You’re wonderful,
Molly
Molly, thank you for this beautiful blog that so perfectly describes the value and meaning of the evening. For those of us at O’Connor who have lost family members this year, it was especially meaningful.
I never imagined that I would be standing next to my parents and receiving a candle in honor of my brother; as you said in your reply to another, “It isn’t fair, it isn’t right, and it shouldn’t be” – but there I was.
As emotionally draining as the evening was for me, I did feel the sense of community you described. In a strange way it felt good to be there and to be with others who so deeply understand the pain of losing a loved one.
You’re a very special person, Becky. Still so sorry for your loss!
Thank you, Minharda. I know you have experienced loss this year too, losing your dear friend. I am grateful for dear friends like YOU who are such a wonderful support to me!
I had the pleasure of volunteering this year at O’Connor’s Remembrance Service. It was truly amazing to see the families interact with one another. Every family had at least one thing in common; grief. It was absolutely beautiful to see the 70 families come together as one when there loved ones names were called aloud. I also had the pleasure of remembering my father and uncle. It was such a comforting feeling knowing they were
still being actively remembered after 13 years. This was an extremely meaningful event, and I look forward to next years.
Erin,
Thank you so much for your kind words and for being such a wonderful part of our ceremony this year.
It thrills my heart to hear that you got to honor & remember in front of so many others, the lives of your dad & uncle. Your feelings are a testament to the power & purpose of remembering.
So glad you enjoyed your first service, looking forward to having you at next year’s.