Our manners in mourning

There needs to be an Idiot’s Guide to Death and Mourning. Not for the mourners necessarily, but for those who insist on making the lives of who those who have just lost loved ones more unpleasant than they might already be. The book, maybe termed Death for Dummies, would dispense step by step “do’s and don’ts”, with more focus on the latter than the former.

Here’s a “don’t”. A few weeks ago, I needed to attend a funeral. Although the weather at the cemetery is always either too cold, too windy, too wet, or too hot, that morning was pleasant. The walk to the “new section” at Westpark Cemetery was a surprising distance, and the many people in attendance walked in quiet respect for the deceased and the family. The only disturbance along the way was the sound of smart watches chiming when attendees reached their Discovery required daily steps – I did say it was far.

It was a solemn affair, as funerals tend to be. At the conclusion of the graveside service the family, in terms of Jewish custom walk past the community, again in silence, aside from the traditional wishes, followed by the community, who then can greet them personally and express their condolences.

It was at this point that I heard a loud voice behind me. “It’s the COVID-19 vaccine!” it said. “We never had cancer like this before the vaccine!” Thankfully, the mourners were further down the hill and didn’t hear him. But others did, and shrank away in discomfort. I’m not a discomfort shrinker, quite the opposite, and having puffed out my chest, pulled myself to as tall as my 1.7m would allow as I prepared to turn around and, well, deck him.

“Dad!” said my son, who was there. “Walk away! Just walk away!” as he gently shoved me away from the scene of the crime. I listened to him, but the inappropriate comment stayed with me as I walked the 5km back to my car, and then drove home.

Later that day, I heard from my son that the same fellow, when greeting the widower who had not left the graveside area, after acknowledging his loss, found a moment of silence to ask, “So tell me, did your wife have the COVID-19 vaccine?”

Turns out, I should have smacked him.

Because someone’s loss isn’t about your view of the vaccine. Or of the COVID-19 pandemic. It’s not about assuaging your curiosity. Because it’s not about you. It’s only about the mourners. And you’re relevant, in this case, only in relation to your ability to give comfort.

Every mourner has a story of something inappropriate that was said to them. A spectacular one I recently heard was of a father, mourning the loss of an adult child, who was told that he should be comforted by the fact that he would join her soon.

I can only imagine how much comfort that must have given him.

There’s a good reason that there’s a Jewish tradition of not addressing mourners until they initiate a conversation. What needs to follow is the recognition that no matter what you think of the global response to COVID-19 or anything else, it’s unlikely that a mourner will care. Quite the contrary, in fact.