Since the term “celebration of life" was coined to honour a life lived, there have been differences of opinion regarding what that means. I have come across folks who are vehemently opposed to using that term, suggesting that a funeral should be exactly what they consider it to be - a time for grieving, a time for healing and a generally sad event that should act as a comforting receptacle to place that sadness into. Not a “celebration" of any sort. I can understand why. Any death is a sad event in the culture in which we were raised, but not so much in other cultures necessarily.
In other words - all bets are off in the land of the grieving. What is important to recognize however, in this world of quick responses, habitual distraction and blatant closing of the eyes, is whether the time has been taken to grieve at all. And by grieving, I mean any number of synonyms that may provide the healing that should not be swept away unwanted. Reflection. Remembrance. Recognition. Acknowledgement. Honouring. Amending. And yes... celebrating.
I think for those who oppose the term “celebration," they are perhaps thinking the word implies one is happy and that “happy" has no place at a funeral. Not so. The term rather, is used to praise a life that meant so much and was well lived, to proclaim that they are dead, and yes – that it is deeply felt but worthy of celebration. All the idiosyncrasies that made them so unique and so lovable.
“Celebration" in my eyes, hints at a wider truth and speaks about something worthy of the person and not so much the event (funeral) that is taking place. It feels as though it conjures up the truth of someone and allows us to recognize their perfections and their imperfections. It takes away a certain formality and may even bring us closer to recognizing, in our own case, that all of who we are may be worthy of celebration.
In a manner of speaking, to “celebrate" someone we celebrate not only who they were but what they personally gave to us or taught us through their living. A life cannot possibly be gloriously good or boldly bad in its entirety. My partner's mom was an alcoholic. Her life was certainly a hardship for her and her children. It hurt my partner much more to traverse the cliffs edge of all that praise at her mom's funeral, with no admission of that hardship; yet she was still thankful for a mother that loved her despite the challenges.
It's understood that grieving and sadness are in the room. It's a funeral after all. But our words matter; they make a difference to us. A celebration is a recognition of an event in which the definition thereof holds the word “social," and a funeral is the event itself. The semantics of the words may be slim, but our comfort in what we or the deceased might have wished for are not.
And so, in the end, we celebrate a life as we see fit. Only, try to celebrate it all. The real gems in any service after a life has been lived are in its meaning. It deserves to be celebrated whether we call it celebration or funeral. Stay true to the deceased and your experience of them. Embrace it all. Their whole life. Be still and cry at this part or toss it up in the air like confetti and dance at another.
BE SAD AND CELEBRATE.
