Funerals and Food
The importance of breaking bread after a memorial service
After my grandfather’s funeral mass and burial, we walked the two blocks from the church to my grandparents’ home where neighborhood women stood behind make-shift serving tables, ready to feed a homemade dinner to all who came. Over fifty years later, I remember the effort neighbors made to comfort and console our family. The impact was lasting.
My grandparents’ small home was rearranged in order to make as many people comfortable as possible. Extra tables and chairs that magically appeared filled spaces made when larger furniture was moved. This was more than a gesture of generosity and kindness. It was an essential part of grieving, one in which family and friends gathered to eat and talk, to process that which is most difficult to process.
As a young girl, I was moved by seeing people I barely knew take care of each person who entered the home. I can still visualize Minnie, one neighbor, leading the charge as people entered the home. She directed mourners through what was an albeit tight and narrow queue of tables filled with homemade pasta, meatballs, sausage, peppers, roasted chicken and vegetables, salads, and countless platters of homemade cookies, comfort foods all. For those too overcome to eat a full meal, there were two pots of homemade soup on the stove: chicken noodle and minestrone.
The house was filled with people sharing stories about my grandfather as they enjoyed a meal together. It was a perfect way to transition to the early grief that lie ahead.
When someone passes away, the rituals that follow help us all find desperately needed comfort and connection with one another. Across cultures, food and storytelling have always been central to grieving — as loved ones recount cherished memories of the person they’ve lost.
Specific foods are often tied to ancient customs or religious beliefs. When repeated, its meaning is imprinted in a family history.
For example, in Chinese culture, offerings of fruit and rice may be set in front of the casket, offered to symbolically provide sustenance for the departed in the afterlife.
In Jewish tradition, mourners are often served a meal of consolation after the funeral, which typically includes foods like bagels, eggs, and lentils, all circular, symbolizing the cycle of life.
At many an Irish wake, seen as a celebration of life as well as a time of mourning, it is common to toast the deceased with whiskey. Food and drink are a means of marking beginnings and endings.
Three months ago, we lost our adult son. We are devastated. His death, one we feared but did not anticipate, took us down at the knees. Amidst our sorrow and during our planning of his memorial service, we had the presence of mind to know that planning a large meal for our loved ones was important for all of us. So we naturally reached out to Giovanni, the owner of Salute, our favorite Italian restaurant, who we knew would resonate culturally and understand the purpose beyond the food. We are very grateful for how well he and his staff took care of us and our gathered friends and family on that most difficult day.
I remember looking around the restaurant after my son’s Celebration of Life and Committal Service and thinking that these are the people who are walking with us through this dark time. They will hold us and help us move through this. Though I recognized this at the service, it became more concrete at the meal.
Food serves as a means of comfort and connection during the grieving process. Sharing a meal allows mourners to come together, offering support and companionship during the hardest of times. The Death Network, a group of Doulas educated to help people through the process of losing a loved one, suggests that talking openly about our experiences with the death of a loved one begins the healing process. The repast following a memorial service is the first step in integrating the loss into ordinary life.
This group of healers advises bereaved families to be mindful of the meal chosen that follows funeral services. Identifying and honoring family traditions can be “profoundly healing, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, the enduring power of food can connect us to the ones we’ve lost,” suggest grief counselors practicing in the Death Network.
In times of profound loss, familiar foods that are considered special can be incredibly soothing, providing a comfort from the weight of grief.
It’s not just the bereaved family that benefits. So, too, do the guests that attend and share the meal. Research shows that after just a single food sharing event, the levels of circulating oxytocin are higher and promote social bonding.
In times when life is moving so quickly, taking time to pause and participate in the sharing of a meal with the bereaved family is an act of hope, and demonstrates how the power of community provides a bridge to consolation at a time when we need it most.
There is no question that sharing a meal and the comfort of close connection with friends and family are everything at a time of loss and ensuing grief. The cloud lingers long after, perhaps forever, but the connections provide the sustenance to go on, one step at a time, just like food nourishes. Well said.
A few weeks ago the mother of one of my longtime friends died. She was 84 and in bad health, so it was expected, but still a time of grief for my friend and the rest of the family. Tim and I have known each other since we were 12 years old, so I knew his mother as well. A sweet, kind, delightful woman who was loved by everyone. I drove from Asheville to Columbia, SC, for the funeral and to spend time with Tim and his wife and kids and grandkids. Immediately after the funeral, I joined the family for a dinner provided by some of the people from the church where Doris (Tim’s mother) had been a member for decades.
At first I was not going to go to the dinner, because I felt like it would be mostly family, but Tim asked me to go with him. He said, “There will be fried chicken.”
I said, “Church Lady friend chicken? I’m coming.”
The food was delicious and nourishing in more ways than one. The conversations were meaningful and even a bit funny. It meant the world to me. The next day Tim texted me a couple of times to tell me how much it meant to him to have me there, one of his oldest friends.
Sometimes sitting next to a beloved person and eating food is everything, isn’t it?
I think of you often, Michele. I love and appreciate you. I hope your meals with loved ones are providing some comfort and healing. It’s a long slow road.