Fairhaven Funeral Blog

Today, we continue our series on grief, faith and culture with a guest post from Fairhaven Family Service Counselor and Christian pastor, Jim Bogosian. Jim talks about a personal loss he suffered and how, as a Christian, his faith sustained him. As you will see, Jim’s faith is very important to him and he used it to supply answers when his family suffered a tragedy.  Every day, the promises and teachings of his faith help him live with his loss and give him hope.

Disclaimer: The religious information contained in these guest blog posts are the beliefs of the guest blogger and in no way reflect Fairhaven’s endorsement of any particular religion.

I will never forget April 17^th, 1990.  What started out as just another ordinary day turned out to be an extraordinary life-altering day.  Having not fully recovered from strep throat, that morning my wife and I took our first child, our daughter Elisabeth, who was 8 years old at the time, to our pediatrician.  Later that day, we entered a new world as together we stepped onto the oncology floor at Children’s Hospital, Los Angeles.

After waiting for what seemed an eternity to hear the results of a bone marrow test, we sat with an oncologist who told us that our daughter had a kind of leukemia that without treatment would take her life in two to three months!  So began our ten-month journey with our beautiful daughter who until then had been perfectly healthy…down a road we certainly hadn’t anticipated when we held her in our arms as a newborn.  Ten months later, we stood over her grave at a committal service at Forest Lawn in Hollywood Hills.

We had experienced what many have called the most traumatic, most profound, most overwhelming,  most inconsolable of losses.  For us—unprecedented pain, loss, sorrow, and grief.  What we had believed to be true, as part of our Christian faith—the Biblical truths that we had grown up learning and that as a pastor I had taught to my church week after week—were put to the test.  Through it all, and day-by-day for twenty years since our Elisabeth’s death, we have been enabled by God to live in and be enlarged by loss…to find healing, comfort, and recovery…and to experience new beginnings.  God’s promise, we have found, is true:  “No test that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face.  All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).  We have run for our very lives to God, grabbed the promised hope with both hands and found an unbreakable spiritual lifeline.

This lifeline is what the Bible calls “grace,” the “Amazing Grace” we sing about and that God freely gives to those who relinquish their self confidence and self will and put their trust in Jesus Christ, choosing to pursue his way of living and submit to his leadership.  God’s full provision, his supply, his mercy—that which we can never earn and do not deserve—is gifted to us who believe to meet our every need.

At the times when we were without our own resources and ability to cope, we took hold of God’s “grace resources” that are promised to all Christians.  Here are some:

Biblical understanding—the awareness that we live in a fallen world order (so that we could accept life in a broken world rather than challenge what is);  the knowledge that God is perfectly good, loving, faithful, kind (so that, we could reflect on what God is like—instead of focusing on the pain of our loss and feeling confused and angry at God);  the understanding that God rules over all (so that when it looks and feels like things are out of control, we can choose to submit our lives and circumstances to God);  the knowledge that God is the only one who can bring good out of what is bad gave us hope for the future.

Encouraging examples—Stories from the Bible and from history of those who endured losses—people who trusted God in their afflictions, loved him with their whole being, and obeyed him. Their examples have kept us going, their songs have encouraged us, their poetry has given us language to express our complaints, pain, hope (Psalms), their stories have provided perspective.

God’s presence and promises—The Christian can be confident of God’s presence and can draw on his promises in the Bible.  Countless times when we felt fearful and vulnerable, we held on to the promise of his presence with us (e.g. “God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’  So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.’” Hebrews 13:5,6;  “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” Psalm 23:4).

Supportive relationships—In our darkest days we came to value more than ever the care and support of the Christian community.  Many hundreds prayed for us, wrote to us, called us, visited us, took care of our two other kids (a 5 year old and a 2 year old); provided meals for us.  And almost every day people of faith came to the hospital or to our home and cried with us, prayed with us, encouraged us, held us, played with us…

Hope for the future—There is no more sad place on earth than a grave site.  As a pastor, I’ve stood over many open graves watching families say their last goodbyes to their loved ones, tears streaming down their faces…  The most heartbreaking was when my wife and I had to bury our daughter.  But it is against the black backdrop of death that the light of the Christian message shines most radiantly and means the most.  Because Jesus Christ offered his life for us on the cross and came out of the grave alive, the person who trusts in him is forgiven and assured of eternal life in heaven.  So when a follower of Jesus dies, the part of us we cannot see—the spirit/soul—immediately goes to be with the Lord in heaven.

In the middle of our grief, we were able to rejoice knowing that when our Elisabeth took her final breath here on earth, she stepped into the presence of God in heaven!  And someday when Jesus returns to the earth, the bodies of those who have died in Christ will be raised / transformed, and a new world order will be established.  That day every wrong will be made right, sorrow will be turned into joy, darkness into light, brokenness into wholeness, loss into gain.   This “good news” is promised by God himself in the Bible, verified by Christ’s empty grave!

My wife and I would have no comfort if we had no hope of ever seeing our precious daughter, Elisabeth, again.  But because of Christ we’re going to heaven and we will see her again.  We’ll be able to hug her, kiss her, talk with her, laugh with her, and together enjoy the life that God has planned for us in the world to come!  Each day that passes, we’re one day closer to that great day!  In the meantime, every day as we walk with Jesus we can live in his peace, joy, and purpose!

Today, we start a series of posts on grief, faith and culture. People deal with grief in different ways. How they deal with grief and loss can be impacted by their culture and their chosen faith. In an effort to understand the many ways we can alleviate and deal with grief, we’ve begun a series of guest blogs by people of different faiths and cultures. The focus of their posts will be personal stories of how their culture or faith shaped the way in which they dealt with their grief.

Disclaimer: The religious information contained in these guest blog posts are the beliefs of the guest blogger and in no way reflect Fairhaven’s endorsement of any particular religion. 

Turning the Wheel: Death and Wicca by Inspirational Author Mary Caelsto

My father died today, eight years ago, to be exact. He was diagnosed with esophageal cancer around Thanksgiving; by the time of my birthday (mid-January) he was gone. Three short months to realize that the man who had been my rock, my heart, and my soul, was slipping away from me, and there was not a thing I could do about it.

I don’t do grief well. I don’t do “hospitals” or “sick” well either. I’ve always been too emotional and held my heart too close to the surface. But as I’ve grown in my faith, I’ve gotten better. In shuttling mom to and from doctors appointments last year about this time when she had lost the sight in one of her eyes, I came to grips with my father’s loss and with my own grief, which I’d kept bottled up and tucked away out of sight from prying eyes.

I’ve been Wiccan for nearly twenty years, though like most people, I’ve had an on-again, off-again relationship with the gods. My dad knew I was Wiccan. “Are you a witch?” he asked me one day long ago, “because I saw one of those cop tv shows and they showed altars  and that looks like what you have in your apartment.” While I kept quiet on the portrayal of my religion in the media, I couldn’t lie to my father. Yes, I am Wiccan.

I believe in the great wheel of the year. As the seasons move from winter to spring, then summer to fall before turning back to winter, so too, do our lives. We’re children, and we mature into young adults, then mature adults, until we age into elderhood. Eventually, we, like the flowers in winter, die. It’s tough to watch a loved one fade and pass away, tougher still when it happens suddenly. However, when we look at death in the context of the larger wheel of the year and cycles of nature, it becomes if no less difficult, then more understandable. And, like the tulips coming back in the spring, as a Wiccan, I believe our souls return.

In fact, I believe we each were put here to accomplish certain things. When our time is done, so are we. And since our souls choose the method of our birth and the means of our death prior to our incarnation, it can be said that everyone dies as he or she wishes. To know that my father accomplished his goals, though I might not know what they are, comforts me. I rejoice for his accomplishments, even as I mourn his loss.

Thankfully grief is part of the cycle as well. Our tears fall and we turn inward in our grief. We need to work through the process, but eventually we will come through the other side. I no longer break down when I think about my father, though sometimes fond memories or fleeting reminders bring tears. I’m more at ease with my grief, and I believe whether it’s in this life, or the next, I will see my father again.

Today’s post is by Lou Carlson, who has been a Family Service Counselor at Fairhaven Memorial Park for twenty years.

Dell Eastman had worked at Fairhaven Memorial Park and Mortuary for 20 years when I met him. He had begun work as a cemetery salesman, and when the mortuary was built be continued to serve families as an arrangement counselor. He had a warm and engaging smile, kind of bulgy eyes and he walked with a slight limp from years of standing and waiting (we do that a lot in cemetery service!). But he was a wonderful conversationalist because he asked questions. He wanted to know about you, he was genuinely interested in your life and story.

Dell had retired after 20 years. He thought he would enjoy life, relaxing at home. His wife, Ann, however had very different ideas and gave Dell a “honey-do” list every day. The list always included sweeping the garage floor and the front porch. (Dell detested pushing a broom!!) Dell returned to Fairhaven employment in less than a year!! He worked another ten years before he finally retired “for good”.

For ten years, after he returned to work, I watched Dell, who was now serving families as a service director. He was patient, courteous, polite and careful. We talked over lunch in the employee break room, at graveside services as we waited for the family to arrive and at the Elks Club, when Dell took me to lunch there. And most days, Dell came into my office (when I was not with a family) to chat. We became good friends. He had many friends at Fairhaven Memorial Park and in the community where he lived.

Then, a few weeks ago, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Dell for a while. I shrugged it off assuming that he might be visiting family, or something. I thought I’d drive by his home (he lives very near me) and see how he was doing. But I didn’t do it. I ignored the quiet voice in my heart that told me to visit him.

On Sunday, the phone rang at my home. Dell had died.

I was shocked, grieved at the death of a long time friend and guilty that I had not tried to visit him. If I had driven by his house I would have discovered that he was hospitalized, then in a nursing home, where he died. I was most saddened to learn that almost no one knew of his health situation, or had visited him during his last days and hours on earth.

Dell had asked me to officiate at his wife’s funeral a few years ago. After the services, he asked me to do the same thing at his (future) services, and I agreed. Twice at lunch at the Elks Club and once in my office, I interviewed Dell about his life. He told me his life story, he told me about Ann and their love, he told me about his military service in the Pacific theater of World War II, he shared many stories about serving families at funerals and of his love for California Lottery “Scratchers” (he bought many of them every day!!). And, he gave me a little gift. It was a card that read:

‘“A hug is the perfect gift – one size fits all and nobody minds if you exchange it.” (Ivern Ball)…. Dell Eastman.’

The staff atFairhaven, all who knew Dell, were stricken at the news of his passing. The ladies remembered Dell’s hugs – he loved to hug people (especially the ladies!). He was one of our own, and now, instead of standing beside the casket of a client, he was in his own casket. He was neatly dressed and looking younger than I had seen him in years. But the smile was gone, his eyes were closed, his hands were folded over his lap, his voice was stilled. Our co-worker, our friend was gone. Thousands of families whom he had served, had lost a memorable funeral counselor and service director. And we had all lost a dear friend.

At his funeral I told the story of his life, recounted his exploits during WWII, shared his love for Ann and gave everyone a personal copy of Dell’s “hug card”. Then, as the service ended, I asked the service directors to give to every guest a Lottery “Scratcher” card. It seemed a fitting way to conclude the services for a friend who had changed our lives with his smile, his hugs and his servant’s heart.

But Fairhaven Memorial Park will never be the same without him. Since his passing I have seen small groups of staff chatting about Dell, sharing memories and funny stories about him, wondering how many people remember him and how many staff never met him. Some were surprised, even shocked to learn that he had died. They had seen him recently – he seemed so well!!

There were some tears, some hugs and a quiet time.

All who work at a funeral home must deal with death and dying, directly or indirectly every day. We serve a mourning community. But it is in moments like these, when we must live through the death of a valued colleague, that we discover again how valuable our friends and family are. And how vulnerable we are to the emotions of grief and loss, when a co-worker dies.