Let me start off by saying I'm not talking about your standard thank you note situations. They are a must for any type of baby, wedding, birthday, graduation, etc. event. I'm not completely disregarding manners here ;) No, what I'm talking about is thank you notes that you send out after a funeral. Not exactly a moment in your life where proper etiquette is going to be on your mind. And yet, you are forced by societal conventions to break out the pen and write. That brings up my first question: Who in the hell are you supposed to send one to anyways? There are the obvious answers, such as those who sent flowers, made a donation, helped with the gathering, but I'm not talking about them. It's more along the lines of those that simply attended the visitation/funeral, sent a card, or both. If you knew the person who passed away, it makes sense that you would do these things. Yes, you've gone a little out of your way for the card, but wouldn't you always want to attend the funeral? I wouldn't consider that a gesture deserving of recognition from the family. Often when you go the funeral, it's for your own personal sake. It's so that you can get closure, so that you can "properly" mourn the passing of someone you knew. In simple terms, no it doesn't deserve a thank you.
Ok, so maybe that one was an easy point to make. After all, not everyone who simply attends or writes a card expects a note of gratitude. So what about the others I mentioned? Those that sent flowers, made a donation, or helped out in some other manner. Most would say yes, of course they deserve something. And I agree. They do deserve something. They deserve a special hug, a special thank you in person, a special moment that is just between you and them right there in that moment. That moment where you can both mourn together, where you can comfort each other, where they can see how truly grateful you are for the special effort they made and how much it really did matter. You can't get that in a thank you note. There is no way to put those feelings into written form. You just can't do it. I had those moments at my grandmother's funeral in May. I wouldn't trade them for anything. They are a treasure to me. And I know that the people I shared them with treasure them as well. No note is going to do any of that justice. But because it's expected, I do it. I write the thank yous. And what do I get from it? An overwhelming sense of loss. Loss because I can never get my Granny back. Loss because those I shared these moments with people who miss her just like I do. Loss because I have to relive those moments, those feelings, all over again. But this time I'm all by myself. They aren't there to hug me. They aren't there to reassure me that I can get through this. Instead, I'm stuck writing a note that I don't want to write, all by myself, crying and feeling like I could go off at any moment. And I like to think that the people I'm writing these notes for wouldn't want me to be like that. I know they wouldn't. I know they would tell me to just stop. They know I'm thankful for them and their actions, that it is enough for them. They don't need a written confirmation of how I feel. So why do we feel like we must do this? My friend lost her mother to cancer a few years ago and she said when she wrote her thank yous, she simply put a quote in each one and cried the entire time. I fail to see how that's helpful in anyway to the one grieving. To her it was something that she had to do even though it was the last thing on her mind to do. Just like me, all it did was remind her of her loss. I can't see how that makes a thank you note mean anything.
And it simply proves my point: this is something the majority of us go through. We do something because we are expected to. Because it is the polite thing to do. Well, how about this! We don't do it because it causes us pain. Because it can never replace a personal thank you that you've already given to the person. Because it isn't worth the effort when there are some many other things we should be focused on at that moment. Like healing. Granny's funeral was mid-May. Now it's mid-August. Apparently I should have had all the notes done by June. Instead, I spent that time with my family. I spent it reliving memories. I spent it learning new details I never knew about her. I spent it going through photo albums and vacation diaries. I spent it doing something that actually brought me comfort. That helped me to grieve and maybe be just a little bit less sad. I think that's way more important.
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