Looking for an opportunity to reveal a character’s true feelings? Need a place where a character can realistically tell the world how they feel in a monologue? Want to give characters an opportunity to discuss what is coming next in your plot? Funerals provide an excellent setting for all these moments and more.
Funerals have been a common setting in literature for a long time.
Homer used the setting of a funeral pyre to build the drama of the Iliad after the death of Patroclus. In Hamlet, it is at a funeral scene that we get the classic line, “Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times …” Following the line, Hamlet’s fatal flaw is diagnosed by his friend.
And in his book This Town, Mark Leibovich uses the funeral of Tim Russert to establish the setting of his critique of the Washington political culture.
3 Powerful Funerary Moments
Funerals are a powerful setting because they bring characters who may not usually be together into the same location and allow those characters an opportunity to reflect on the past.
At funerals, a character’s feelings about past events are laid bare. Even if they aren’t spoken out loud, body language and small interactions give readers insight into how characters relate to one another.
At a funeral, emotions can run high and characters who are typically guarded have the opportunity to reveal their true motivations.
I worked as clergy for fifteen years. During that time, I officiated and attended a lot of funerals. Reflecting on those events, there are three moments in a funeral I think make great scenes in literature.
1. A Moment of Interaction: The Wake
Historically, wakes were prayer vigils held on a feast day of a patron saint. Today they are something very different. In the culture I was raised in, wakes happen at the funeral home. Typically the deceased person is present, laid out in his/her casket for mourners to see one last time. The immediate family of the deceased is also there to grieve with visitors.
Wakes are interesting settings because, after a visitor has seen the deceased, there isn’t much else to do except stand around and share stories about the past. Additionally, the presence of the deceased can bring stress to characters who aren’t used to being around a dead body, causing those characters to let their guard down and reveal things they may not usually share.
2. A Moment to Review: The Eulogy
During a funeral service, a member of the deceased's family will stand in front of all the mourners and recap the life of the person who has passed. Typically, eulogies contain facts about the person’s life and details that the speaker believes are representative of the deceased.
This moment can serve not only as a way to reveal events you don’t want to cover directly in your story, it can also provide a grieving character the opportunity to share his/her true feelings.
Like Mark Antony’s moment in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, in which Antony verbally spears Caesar’s killer Brutus and gives us the famous line, “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears,” the eulogy provides the excuse for characters to monologue and comment on the events of the story.
3. A Moment of Relief: After the Graveside
In many cultures, mourners will gather at the graveside for a final smaller service. Sometimes they will watch the casket lowered into the earth, sometimes they will leave before the casket is dropped. Often flowers are taken from the casket to be kept as mementos. Then, typically after a final prayer, everyone in attendance leaves.
The moment following the graveside service is one of release. As people walk back to their cars, the future is on their mind. With a temporary relief from grief, they will discuss future plans, how assets should be dispersed, or plans for next steps.
It’s a great opportunity to foreshadow what might come next. The scene provides an opportunity to reveal characters’ intentions and hopes.
Is a Funeral the Right Setting for Your Story?
Cormac McCarthy once said the only two subjects worth writing about are life and death. Funerals combine both. At a funeral, emotions are high, characters guards are down, and there isn’t a lot of characters to do except talk to one another about the past and the future.
Next time you are looking for a moment of reflection in your story, consider the setting of a funeral.
Is there a funeral in literature that stands out in your mind? Let us know about it in the comments. It may serve to inspire your fellow writers.
PRACTICE
Take fifteen minutes to write a scene at a funeral. Let words and emotions run free. Share your scene in the comments below, and don't forget to leave feedback for your fellow writers!
“The Dead” by James Joyce.
I haven’t read much Joyce. I’ll check it out.
“Home Burial ” by Robert Frost is essentially a short story. It takes place on a moment on the stairs between a couple whose child has died. It’s pretty intense. Also instructive on how to infuse and compress
Emotion and meaning to good effect.
Funny before I opened email and read the description, I was just thinking about not just the funeral, but death as well. When my husband died last year from cancer I was alone in dealing with the arrangements. I was sitting here remembering back to that time and trying to find a perfect starting point for that story.
I was thinking about how my life had /has changed and what I want to do with the rest of my life, where is my path going to take me? Much like my childhood of abuse there has to be a reason I wake each morning. What is that reason? After all I want my like to have purpose and mean something. Now is the time to find that purpose.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you. Its been a little rough. But I have learned so much about me. And recently I have met a great guy and we are doing well
Jeff, this is a fantastic article. I have never thought about using funerals as a setting.
Awesome. I’m glad I could bring a little inspiration this morning.
Some great ideas here. When asked about what funeral in literature comes to mind I immediately thought of Tom Sawyer and friends when they attend their own funerals. Mark Twain knew how to use it. Thank you. 🙂
Perfect example. Thank you!
Awesome! Great scene prompt. I’d never really thought about the wake and, and viewing in the funeral home as a place that could be kinda creepy. I tried this practice and I think I’ll use it again. I am having trouble introducing a coupla characters who would absolutely no reason whatsoever to be in my locus other than a funeral. I thank you. Here’s the exercise…
She had been at the wake the night before. Alone. Today, outside the lady’s room, she was again alone, but not for long. Two halls joined in a larger lounge outside the men’s restroom and the lady’s it was here she met up with her date. Does one take a date to a funeral? “Hey, you biz Friday? I know it’s short notice…” What caught me was not how good-looking her date was, but how young! This wasn’t cradle robbing, but possibly University dorm-poaching. Okay, he was a little older than finals and frats. And I think he’d been checking me out. Not for long, but it still counts, right?? The weird-er stuff was that this was the first I’d seen of him. She had come in done her thing and then sought the bathrooms. Discreetly, I’d followed. He had just drifted down the other hall and was there. I would have given up my Knicks tickets, if I had any, to know his name. They were talking and I was fooling with my phone; best decoy ever. I even managed a coupla pics. Then, what’d who say to whom? She was leaving and he was standing there. If he’d had a drink in his hand, I think he’d have thrown it back. Time to work.
“Mark!” More than a whisper but not a shout. “How are you? Holding up okay? I know it’s tough.” I was banking on the fact that a) his name wasn’t Mark. And I had no Plan B for that; b) he didn’t know the deceased. “How’s ‘Chelle doing? She didn’t want to talk last night.” That was no lie.
“I… um, I, who are you?” Not upset, so he had be doing a once over, a little… surprised.
“I’m sorry. Aren’t you Mark Turney? Craig’s brother?” I imaged the most embarrassing moment in my life, and this one was coming close, and let my eyes go wide.
A grin. Like he was off the hook. Whoa! Man. “I’m Chris. Chris Lagoso.” His crazy blue-green eyes lit up and not in any kind of defensive way, but my work was done. Don’t blow it.
“I. Am. So. Sorry.” I said because I was. Another day, another place and we could’ve had a little chat. “I’m sorry, I really am. You look just like (God help me, I’ve forgotten Mark’s brothers name) my friend Mark. Well, I’m sorry for your loss.” A half second pause then turn slowly to leave.
“Oh, I didn’t know him. He’s a friend of Ms. Kaderson. Was.” I could lived with any fault he might have as long as the smile was part of the deal.
But time to go.
I have written a short story (murder mystery) that was published last year in an anthology that was set in a funeral home just before the funeral. It was fun to write. I had older adoptive parents so as a kid I probably went to more funerals than most people.
Huh. I’ve never been to a funeral in all my life. I don’t really know what happens at funerals or what people do or anything like that. All I know is that a person gets buried at a funeral.
This article gave me some ideas for my story. Where both the hero and villain talks to their mother’s grave. Both looking for guidance.
Wow. A funeral. Pretty deep…..thanks.
Hi – I know I’m a few days late, but this is my first time responding to any of these posts and I was interested in this one because I got it the day after I found out my grandma is close to death. I wrote the following:
Sunday I had just finished my shift and started drinking, even though I had intended all day to stay away from that poison. I was struggling all weekend with the dark shadow in me that surfaces most readily when I invite that poison into my body. After volunteering at this festival and hanging out with friends who started, I felt the stronger desire to connect and disappear.
Just as I was feeling myself go, I pulled out my phone to check some facts only to accidentally open to my email and saw an email forwarded from my dad. It was about my grandma. I got choked up before I read anything. It wasn’t going to be good. Why was I hearing heavy news like this? I couldn’t put the words together. Maybe it was my emotions. Maybe it was the poison. Maybe it was my emotional block not wanting to face reality in this way.
I was able to make out just enough to know that she was holding on, but it was all down hill and it would probably be a fast downhill.
Why was I so sad? It wasn’t like we were close.
What makes two people close? For the last several years I wrote her letters and sent her pictures of the places I had been. I few times she had written me back, but I understood that had become too hard for her to do, so it was mostly one sided conversations. The last letter she sent me was a picture of a place she ate and told me who she was with and what she had to eat.
Dad always said that after her car accident, which was before my parents met, she “changed.” From what I understand dad didn’t get along with his dad too much. He didn’t think he respected grandma. Dad called him a “big kid” and grandma had to be the adult for both of them.
Grandpa died in a freak farm accident when Grandma was only 55. Looking back dad now realizes Grandma was probably trying to find another man to marry, but it never happened.
Grandma was so sweet, never said anything negative. She had a flair about her. She wore bright colors and even pink and blue eye shadow. Dad recalls her being so pretty before the accident.
I struggle to place myself at a her funeral. Instead, I see myself in her room. I want to hold her hand. Her hand is wrinkled with age. The babies she held with those hands. The tears she wiped away with them. The meals prepared by those hands to feed her family and food for her church potlucks. Those hands held stories.
I see her gazing out the window of the small nursing home room she shares with another lady. A thin sheet is the only protection for their privacy. Grandma stares out the window.
I wonder what she’s looking at. Does she see a squirrel or a dog? Is she imaging the flowers that were there in the spring. What does she see?
Because of the letters that I send she knows my name, but she doesn’t know me. You mention “Jennifer” and her face lights up and I’m told she always asks about me. Yet when I walked down the hall, smiled and said “Grandma!” as I gave her a hug, her eyes were blank and her face twisted in confusion.
“It’s Jennifer!”
“Oh,” she smiled briefly and then asked how I was doing before looking confused again.
I pulled out my phone and started showing her pictures of the trip I took to Europe a few months back. The confused lines on her face relaxed as a smile touched her lips. Her eyes softened as her head nodded. She wanted to hear about the pictures. That took her to her happy place until the nurse came and got her for lunch.
We parted ways for what would be the final time.
What do I look like to her in her mind’s eye?
I never actually done this… but here it is…
First POV of Eleanor
Don’t ever believe in promises. I stood there, watching his parents, sob about his death. I stood there, watching them mourn over a body…. A body, that’ll never open its eyes. I clenched my fists on my side, my nails digging into my skin. So, what? So, what if I got hurt. It was my fault he died. He died, because I let him do it for me.
//“I know, I wasn’t a good brother but- “He started, but I cut him off. That was as far as I could handle.
“But what? I don’t need you…” I remarked, as my brows furrowed together and worry illuminated my face, “No, I do need you… But, I can’t bear to lose you.” //
I truly wasn’t ready. I forced my legs to take one step, but I was afraid to even do so. I was afraid that my legs would crumble, my shields would fall, and our memories will rise. I wouldn’t be able to rebuild them… I knew, because he was there when he built up my walls. He was on the other side, with no hammer to break, only his words and heart slowly made them crumble. He stepped inside, he didn’t have anything but his hands this time, he opened them and offered them for me. I took it, and he made me strong, he made me rise.
My hands, my arms-no, my whole body was shaking. My eyes kept wavering to the ground, to the bright sun, then to his grave. The elegant coffin, stood there. They had to open it, Nathan is suffering inside… I have to help him… He has to get up. I need him to go up. This time, my limbs obeyed, they walked to his coffin, with my hands still clenched I raised them and with a swift movement they landed on his grave. My parents, his parents, flinched and looked at me with watery eyes, but I wouldn’t be able to know if this was true. My own tears were obscuring my vision.
“GET UP!” I exclaimed, as my fist started shaking, my knees collapsed to the ground, “GET UP! Ethaniel Chase, get up! Y-You have to! You have t-to…” I faltered, as I look up, I could almost, almost imagine him pushing open the coffin. He would sit upright, his hand would cover mine, his grin would replace his pale, and dead face. He would laugh, he would smile, and tell me to stop being stupid. He would tell me on how easy for him to fool me. But, he didn’t… He didn’t push the coffin, he wasn’t sitting, nor was he smiling. He was just there… He was truly dead. “Y-You have to… For me” I gasped out, as a rough hand softly pulled me away from his grave, I didn’t fight back… If he was alive… He would tell me… That, I had to remain strong… Strong enough for him…
—
“Ethaniel Chase, was a brave young man..” The speaker for told, as he spoke mostly among the guest. No, he wasn’t brave… He was a strong man, but a coward.
“Ethaniel Chase, was fortold to die, in a murder… His sister-“ The speaker nodded toward me, -“Was the last person to survive this unfortunate attack” My lips moved, “It was planned… He died because of me… tell them, I was the one who killed them… Tell them…” I muttered, my lips moving but no sound escaped. Make a sound… Tell them the truth…
It’s still unfinished… But that’s all I’ve got… I haven’t actually proof read it, so forgive me if it does indeed SUCK. *smiles*