Why visitations?

In my mind, visitations have always been somewhat ridiculous. The concept of the visitation is good, but the way we go about it here in the Midwest is tiring, stressful, and takes away from both mourning and celebration. My grandfather died last week, and, as is customary, there was a visitation the evening before the funeral. Grandpa’s body was laid out, open casket, at one end of the funeral home room, Grandma and all the children stood in front of and to the side of the casket, and then the mourners, the well-wishers, friends of the family, neighbors, etc. stood in a line around the perimeter of the room, waiting for forty-five minutes or more to shake the hands of the family, look at Grandpa, give their condolences, cry, and even be comforted by those they came to comfort. It sounds nice, but the family ends up standing for over three hours with the dead body of their loved one behind them. Friends of one child shake hands with all of the family members, explain who they are, and tell them that they are so sorry. None of the immediate family gets to really talk with anyone. The line progresses and people have one minute at most to express themselves, exchange hugs, or even be friends. Then the people walk out the door, and those who need comfort the most are still fulfilling their obligation to stand up, sweetly smile, thank people for coming, and nod their heads at what a wonderful life their loved one has led.

Why do we handle visitations this way? We don’t have to. When my great-grandmother died ten years ago, my dad’s cousin, Julie, from Washington state came home for the funeral, and looked at us quizzically at the mention of a visitation? What is a visitation? You stand up for hours while people pass through a line and shake your hand? Why? Do you really get to talk to people? What kind of comfort comes from that? I must say that some comfort does come from it. Grandma would never have considered doing a visitation any other way. It is the way things are done, and, in her mind, the standard way of expressing grief and love. But do things have to be that way? Or, if that is what people of my grandmother’s generation prefer and are most comforted by, does my generation have to follow suit? I found myself, accidentally, calling the visitation a reception all of last week. The irony of course is that a reception is a celebratory and joyful event, while the visitation is a mournful, subdued event. However, I believe that our mourning could be better served and comforted if our visitations were more like receptions. Why not make the funeral dinner the main visitation event? People can talk to the family members as long as they need to. Long hugs can be exchanged. Stories can be shared. Tears and laughter can mingle. Please do not get me wrong. I am not discounting mourning, grief, and tears as legitimate, appropriate, and God-given ways of working through the death of a loved one, and I am not suggesting that we just pretend that there is nothing to cry about and have a party instead. But, in working through grief, I wonder if there is a better way. The love of family and friends is crucial in the times of grief; why not make it easier to give and receive that love? Why not create the opportunity for legitimate acts of kindness? Why not forgo the line and create a authentic environment for friendship and sharing – why not a meal, an open house, or even a worship service with authentic fellowship afterwards. What we need most in our times of grief is love. Why not reflect that in our services?