Mocha With Linda has begun a weekly meme called Flashback Friday. She’ll post a question every Thursday, and then Friday we can link our answers up on her site.

This week she writes:

I’ve had our bloggy friend Lidna on my heart as she is grieving the loss of a dear friend. And while I don’t want this to be a gloomy or painful Flashback Friday, I thought it would be interesting to reflect on how we experienced grief in our early years.

How old were you (approximately) when you attended your first funeral? Did your parents shield you from death and grief or was it viewed as a natural part of life? Did you experience any significant loss(es) in your growing up years? What were your early impressions of death and dying? And while I do not intend this in any irreverent way, are there any amusing memories associated with a death or funeral? If you have kids, how have you handled this subject with them? Feel free to share as vulnerably or as shallowly as you want!

As always, the questions are simply suggestions to prompt your memory and give you a starting point. You don’t have to answer them specifically, but you are welcome to. I know there are likely some tender memories on this subject, and most of our FF’s will be more lighthearted, but both our fun and our serious memories have made us who we are today.

My mother’s  mother passed away when I was about 4, but I don’t remember much about her. I wasn’t taken to the funeral. My grief in relation to her is more from wishing I’d had a chance to get to know her better. A great uncle passed away when I was a little older, and I was not taken to his funeral either. I don’t really remember much from my childhood having to do with death, dying, or funerals.

I did not attend my first funeral until after I was married. Someone from our church had passed away, and I thought I would feel very uncomfortable going to the viewing and talking to people while a dead body was in the room, but it was fine. It was actually a kind of reassurance, in an odd way, that the person really was no longer there, that the body is just a shell and the real person had gone on. And I thought I would dread funerals, but they were actually wonderful opportunities to support one another and put everything into perspective.For a Christian, the Bible says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” Psalm 116:15 and that when we leave this body, we’re present with the Lord (II Corinthians 5:7-9.) As much as we would wish to have out loved ones back, to talk with them or hug them once more, we couldn’t wish them back to this world of sin and pain, away from the presence of the Lord. So we seek His grace while missing them, with the expectation that we’ll see them again. I can’t imagine not having that hope to hang onto.

I missed the funerals of both of my remaining grandparents: my last grandmother passed away on a Christmas Eve of a year when I had two small children, and the thought of taking a sudden trip at that time just seemed overwhelming. Then my last grandfather passed away a few years later when my own father was visiting and gravely ill, so I could not leave. At the time I consoled myself with the thought that the ones who had passed on weren’t really there, so they would not mind whether or not I came. But later I regretted not attending and having the opportunity to share those moments with my extended family.

The first funeral I attended of a close family member was my father’s several years ago, and then my mother’s just a few years ago. Though hard, my mother’s especially, is a precious memory. There were times that week I thought I would never make it through the events to come, but God wonderfully supplied His sustaining grace.

The only funny thing that I can recall was at my mother’s. The viewing was the night before the funeral, and the family arrived an hour before anyone else was scheduled to come to have a private time. For those of us coming from out of town, it was the first time to see my mom since our last visit; for those who had been at the hospital when she died, it was the first time they had seen her since that day. It was hard for us all. But after each having a moment to spend some time at my mom’s side, we all sat down on the couches in various states of tearfulness, and my mom’s sister said something that cracked us all up. I wish I could remember exactly what it was, but it was something like, “If you breathe through your mouth, you can’t cry.” It was just what was needed to change the mood in the room a little bit. Then she had her daughter read a very sweet tribute that she had written, which they asked my husband to read at the funeral the next day. Someone made a copy of it for all of us, and I keep it with the program from her funeral.

With my own children, we have always taken them with us to funerals. I felt that it was better to teach them how to deal with death than to shield them from it until it happened to someone they were particularly close to and have it then be a much harder experience. Though it is uncomfortable and no one likes death, it is actually therapeutic to visit with family and friends and to remind ourselves of the reality of heaven.