The pandemic forced us to get creative in our daily lives. Those of us who lost loved ones during that period were also to invent ways to memorialize that focused on what we valued. Here's our story.
Our close family, of three generations has actually talked about burials or not, the form and content of memorial, organized or free and spontaneous, all agree … no formalized or "traditional " farewell," because, as such holds no meaning to any of us!
Your mom's send off, as you described, was truly about her and with the people she loved…beautiful.
Oh, that's so kind of you to say, Bonnie. Thank you so much. Reflecting on these ceremonies and obligations can be hard. Sometimes it's not for you, and sometimes it is.
It's been a whole fortnight of memories. Last week, we celebrated the passing of a contemporary, then a friend's 103rd birthday, and now another friend's 50th birthday. Next up, we're planning for a wedding.
That means a great deal coming from you. I know you were there with me at Ponga through those difficult months in 2022. I struggled to keep going with Ponga while spending every other moment with her during those last weeks of hospice. Big sigh.
Barbara your writing is beautiful and a wonderful, loving memorial to your mother. I'm sure this was the perfect type of memorial for her. I am noticing that times are changing lately. My best friend passed away suddenly last year and at first I was shocked that there was to be no funeral or memorial service, even no memorial marker. The genealogist in me was very concerned. I soon realised that I had to remember her in my own way, and I was ok with that. My partner and I and her husband went out to her favourite restaurant and had many laughs and tears, over our memories of Helen.
First, Jennifer, I'm so sorry for your loss. It sounds like Helen was quite something. I love the idea of celebrating her life somewhere she loved. That sounds perfect.
COVID forced many changes, some good, some bad. I'm not sure Projectkin could even have been practical pre-Covid, to be honest. Would as many people be comfortable with all events online? I'm not sure.
I also felt compelled to share this because it highlights how we're challenging the conventional wisdom about end-of-life services. I honestly think that's a good thing. I like to start with the question, "What's the problem you're trying to solve?" Sharing the moment, across time and distance, was essential. In a way, this is also what led to my thinking for Projectkin. How are we sharing our stories of our ancestors? Just because our ancestors wrote family history books doesn't mean that's the only way it can be done. It's a work in progress — and this community is my collaborator. 🥹
And finally, yes, I think Mom would be pleased to know that she'd changed things a bit. She was that rebellious "Auntie Mame," as my cousins called her.
"Necessity is the mother of invention" or so someone said. We learned to do a lot of things differently during Covid. This 'zoom solution' to memorialise your mother is a most elegant one. Thank you for sharing this with us, Barbara.
Funerals and memorials are not only for acknowledging those who have died but also for those left behind - a space to remember and then let go. Any solution that achieves all those things is the right solution it seems to me.
Both my husband's parents had their ashes scattered at sea. It is what they wanted. They were keen yachties and sailed a lot especially in their retirement. Their ashes will long since have moved on the tide but family can look out from the beach and know they are out there somewhere.
As for future generations, that is a tricky one. Unlike for your mother, for my husband's parents neither service nor final resting place was recorded. It is up to those of us who were there to make sure that their whereabouts are captured in a way that will be available to those wanting to know in the future.
Thank you for sharing that, Jane. Ceremony and ritual are all incredibly important elements in holding families and communities together. They remind us of our shared experiences, values, and even love.
You know, I had never considered recording the place when we released my stepdad's urn into the sea back in 1989. Over 30 years later, we struggled to remember where it had been. I was surprised when the captain offered to share the coordinates. How perfectly modern. I've made a point to capture the reference in our archive.
You say you built a website to serve as a temporary memorial and also organized a ZOOM call for the loved ones. And more! Impressive, Barbara!
Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Who am I to judge? Your Mama/Tutu was thoroughly honored. Besides, who else can be proud of a precious box protected by a little puffer fish and a lei of seaweed? Memorable indeed! :-D
Well, my remarkable siblings were there too. You're very kind.
Mom always loved pushing the envelope in technology. In 1977, on my Christmas holiday from college, I discovered that Mom had installed an Apple IIc in the spare bedroom. It ran a custom-built statistical software package built for the market research firm. It replaced punch cards and time-sharing on a mainframe.
After showing it off and demonstrating bulletin boards like Compuserv and The Source, I asked to take over. No, you can't do that! You'll screw it all up. Lol... perhaps a career in technology was my way of showing her up.
She always liked being an early adopter. We had the quadraphonic stereo and Betamax to prove it. I'll never forget my first microwave in 1971. «swoon»
The bottom line is that you and your family are comfortable with your mom's memorial. For what it's worth, an obituary is typically a constant regardless of burial via cremation, headstone or at sea. It is understandable that you and your relatives knew her so an obit may have seemed unnecessary. But for those of us concerned about preserving life stories for grandchildren, great-grandchildren and future generations, it's not too late to add an obit to the public record. I am sorry for your loss.
Well, thank you, Maureen. Actually, it's the reverse. I'm passionately driven to help families share their stories — in any form that works. That's the foundation of everything I'm doing at Projectkin.org today, an effort that started exactly one year after my 92-year old mother passed.
So much has changed about the newspapers that once carried community obituaries and even the cemeteries that collect our loved ones. I certainly see how that is the perfect solution in many situations. In ours, it just wasn't. She was an ocean away from her home of 46 years, and the corporate interests that manage obituaries would have added nothing to our preserved family archive.
Instead, this approach allowed me to bring those who loved her together and capture their stories directly. The recording of remembrances shared in the Zoom memorial is already a treasure shared with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. That recording, the film, and our entire archive of photographs are now in a digital private archive. The whole point is to ensure they will be there for those who loved her and the descendants she will never know. Parts of it will undoubtedly find their way into public accounts over time.
As it happens, I do have a soft spot for newspapers.
Print, digital, all of it. I get the concept of a "public record," and you're right, it's important. Her grandfather, and my great-grandfather, was the editor of the Abilene Reflector-Chronicle from 1888 to 1955. I will think about reaching out to the "RC" to see if they might be interested in a story in some form.
The drastic downsizing of the newspaper industry is a terrible loss. Luckily we have the Internet and a vast array of individual sites, such as Ancestry etc. But no one could reasonably second guess your choices during the double trauma of the loss of family and the pandemic. The Zoom memorial sounds lovely.
You're very kind, and yes, it really was in ways that I'm even coming to appreciate more three years on.
In fact, I think that's an important concept for anyone suffering the loss of a loved one. Give yourself grace, and take your time. Healing takes time, and appreciating a life story takes time, too.
I have to say, when I read the title, my response was "I'm not okay with that at all!", but your story of how you got there drew me in and I understood the reasoning. My sympathies to you and your family.
Me? I want a monument after I go of me on a horse brandishing a sword. Because why not?
May you have your horse and sword. In fact, it looks like your local Ren Faire is ready for you with jousting this year! No need to wait: parenfaire.com/themedweekends.html
lol... I thought to look it up because I'm headed to Dragoncon this year in August.
Barbara, what a touching, heartwarming story. I feel like I know your mom from reading what you wrote. Dementia steals so much from us - so important to remember them when they were strong, loving, funny, caring moms. I have a small clip from a digitized video of my boys 4th birthday. My Mom and Aunt are in the background discussing whether or not they were going to have cake. I treasure that clip of her voice. I was one of the fortunate who didn't lose anyone close during Covid. The Covid year was for my family the "year of firsts without" for my beloved little cousin who passed in 2019. We did them all over zoom, and it did bring out so many stories and laughter.
What a wonderful remembrance of "22"! What a complicated time to grieve her death.
I've been thinking a lot about how I have relied on obituaries and cemetery directories for historical research and how much things have changed in recent years. Local newspapers have disappeared and so have the obituaries from their pages. New ways to memorialize loved ones have emerged, but it does make me wonder about how future generations will make sense of it all.
What a beautiful memorial (and thank you for sharing how you did it since my husband wants to be buried at sea).
It is true that we are inventing new ways to mark the passing of our loved ones. They sometimes lead to unexpected discoveries. When my father died, my mother decided to scatter his ashes on a beach in Donegal, a place they both loved. When we set out from Derry that day, stopping not far from Moville, at a beach my mother liked, we did not know we were closing a circle.
In the 19th century, Ulster emigrant ships did not depart directly from Derry, but instead took passengers by boat across Lough Foyle to embark at Moville. The departing ships followed the shoreline to the tip of Inishowen to the open sea, and it was common for families of the emigrants to light bonfires along the beach, which could be seen from the ships.
None of us could possibly have known that my father was brought back to the spot from where his family had left, the very last place in Ireland that had held their footsteps.
We spread my aunt's ashes at her favorite lake and I wondered the same thing - but it's what she would have wanted and that's important now. Such a beautiful tribute to your mother!
That is indeed the phrase. The challenge is on the open ocean where a strong breeze is blowing. The temptation is to romantically toss the ashes out over the bow as the boat surges through the waves. The thing is... (especially on a sailboat), the onshore breeze will be blowing into your face.
You see the problem.
On a sailboat designed for tourists, they have guests routinely sneak onto public cruises with a plan to scatter the ashes of their loved ones when no one is looking. Oh... awkward.
You're so kind. I think I've been working up to it. Only now do I realize that each of us, when we've lost a parent, will spend years untangling these yarns of feelings.
My Mom raised me to be a big hockey and football fan (Canadian Football, not soccer) . During playoff season as we have for hockey I miss her more - I want to pick up that phone and talk to her again. I want to be all decked out in our Green and Gold team gear cheering at the football game. So many things to untangle
This was an absolutely beautiful story. What a wonderful way to celebrate your mother's life. My mother passed away at age 93 in 2022 and she had a preplanned funeral. The surprise for all of us was at the end at the gravesite when a gentleman stepped forward and sang the Irish lullaby Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral - no one knew it was going to happen (just the way she wanted it to be!)
Oh my… music is incredibly important to these rituals. The good people from Royal Hawaiian Catamaran had a playlist ready, striking up “Aloha Oe” at just the right moment. I was a blubbering mess and never would have thought of that. Bringing on the pros is key to gatherings like this.
Oh, and a pro tip: “Scattering ashes” just isn’t a thing. Think about the wind. No. Scatter flowers, then dive. Seriously. rhcatamaran.com. Five stars. People like that stay with you.
What a moving story - thank you for sharing. Real life is often stranger than fiction - we can't imagine how our life will turn out. We have hopes and dreams and then we face situations that we cannot imagine until something happens and we have to face reality. Your mother was a survivor - adapting to situations and making lemonade out of lemons. The Zoom memorial sounds like something I want done for me but I think being in an urn on two mantels is for me and my wife. And a Find A Grave memorial.
She was indeed, reinventing herself many times over. One unexpected beauty of the zoom service is to have it and the remembrances captured on film to be preserved for future generations. I shared it today in a private post with my extended family on our private Substack channel.
The commemorative box I parked her ashes in before we gathered in Honolulu now has an honored place in my shelf. Things can carry great meaning, can’t they?
Thank you for sharing this. I read every word slowly, letting it wash over me like a tide. What a remarkable tribute: tender, grounded, and filled with grace.
Your mother’s story isn’t just beautifully told; it’s beautifully lived. The way your family honored her—on her terms, in her place, with your own rituals shaped by circumstance and intention—feels deeply human and wholly right. I’ve often said that memory doesn’t always need a headstone. It needs a witness. And what you’ve created, through film, coordinates, water, laughter, and story, is witness of the highest order.
You asked whether we’re inventing new commemorative forms. I think the answer is yes and no. The forms are evolving, but the impulse is ancient: to gather, to remember, to speak the name, to return a loved one to a place that matters. Whether it’s a grave, a coral reef, or a family Zoom call, it’s still about presence, connection, and meaning.
And as for future genealogists? They’ll be just fine. Because of storytellers like you, they’ll inherit not just names and dates, but depth. Emotion. A sense of place. And if they’re lucky, they’ll find your coordinates and understand that love once lived there too.
Thank you again for letting us witness it. Tutu’s story will stay with me.
P.S. I love that Mom came from Chicago to the world. I lived there for nearly a decade—and it’s where I found love. If America is a dream in progress, Chicago is where you hear the hammering.
Our close family, of three generations has actually talked about burials or not, the form and content of memorial, organized or free and spontaneous, all agree … no formalized or "traditional " farewell," because, as such holds no meaning to any of us!
Your mom's send off, as you described, was truly about her and with the people she loved…beautiful.
Thank you.
,
Oh, that's so kind of you to say, Bonnie. Thank you so much. Reflecting on these ceremonies and obligations can be hard. Sometimes it's not for you, and sometimes it is.
It's been a whole fortnight of memories. Last week, we celebrated the passing of a contemporary, then a friend's 103rd birthday, and now another friend's 50th birthday. Next up, we're planning for a wedding.
Loving tribute to your mom...on your family's terms. It honored her well!
🥹
That means a great deal coming from you. I know you were there with me at Ponga through those difficult months in 2022. I struggled to keep going with Ponga while spending every other moment with her during those last weeks of hospice. Big sigh.
A lovely tribute to your mother Barbara
Thank you so much, Emma
Barbara your writing is beautiful and a wonderful, loving memorial to your mother. I'm sure this was the perfect type of memorial for her. I am noticing that times are changing lately. My best friend passed away suddenly last year and at first I was shocked that there was to be no funeral or memorial service, even no memorial marker. The genealogist in me was very concerned. I soon realised that I had to remember her in my own way, and I was ok with that. My partner and I and her husband went out to her favourite restaurant and had many laughs and tears, over our memories of Helen.
First, Jennifer, I'm so sorry for your loss. It sounds like Helen was quite something. I love the idea of celebrating her life somewhere she loved. That sounds perfect.
COVID forced many changes, some good, some bad. I'm not sure Projectkin could even have been practical pre-Covid, to be honest. Would as many people be comfortable with all events online? I'm not sure.
I also felt compelled to share this because it highlights how we're challenging the conventional wisdom about end-of-life services. I honestly think that's a good thing. I like to start with the question, "What's the problem you're trying to solve?" Sharing the moment, across time and distance, was essential. In a way, this is also what led to my thinking for Projectkin. How are we sharing our stories of our ancestors? Just because our ancestors wrote family history books doesn't mean that's the only way it can be done. It's a work in progress — and this community is my collaborator. 🥹
And finally, yes, I think Mom would be pleased to know that she'd changed things a bit. She was that rebellious "Auntie Mame," as my cousins called her.
"Necessity is the mother of invention" or so someone said. We learned to do a lot of things differently during Covid. This 'zoom solution' to memorialise your mother is a most elegant one. Thank you for sharing this with us, Barbara.
Funerals and memorials are not only for acknowledging those who have died but also for those left behind - a space to remember and then let go. Any solution that achieves all those things is the right solution it seems to me.
Both my husband's parents had their ashes scattered at sea. It is what they wanted. They were keen yachties and sailed a lot especially in their retirement. Their ashes will long since have moved on the tide but family can look out from the beach and know they are out there somewhere.
As for future generations, that is a tricky one. Unlike for your mother, for my husband's parents neither service nor final resting place was recorded. It is up to those of us who were there to make sure that their whereabouts are captured in a way that will be available to those wanting to know in the future.
Thank you for sharing that, Jane. Ceremony and ritual are all incredibly important elements in holding families and communities together. They remind us of our shared experiences, values, and even love.
You know, I had never considered recording the place when we released my stepdad's urn into the sea back in 1989. Over 30 years later, we struggled to remember where it had been. I was surprised when the captain offered to share the coordinates. How perfectly modern. I've made a point to capture the reference in our archive.
You say you built a website to serve as a temporary memorial and also organized a ZOOM call for the loved ones. And more! Impressive, Barbara!
Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Who am I to judge? Your Mama/Tutu was thoroughly honored. Besides, who else can be proud of a precious box protected by a little puffer fish and a lei of seaweed? Memorable indeed! :-D
Well, my remarkable siblings were there too. You're very kind.
Mom always loved pushing the envelope in technology. In 1977, on my Christmas holiday from college, I discovered that Mom had installed an Apple IIc in the spare bedroom. It ran a custom-built statistical software package built for the market research firm. It replaced punch cards and time-sharing on a mainframe.
After showing it off and demonstrating bulletin boards like Compuserv and The Source, I asked to take over. No, you can't do that! You'll screw it all up. Lol... perhaps a career in technology was my way of showing her up.
She always liked being an early adopter. We had the quadraphonic stereo and Betamax to prove it. I'll never forget my first microwave in 1971. «swoon»
The bottom line is that you and your family are comfortable with your mom's memorial. For what it's worth, an obituary is typically a constant regardless of burial via cremation, headstone or at sea. It is understandable that you and your relatives knew her so an obit may have seemed unnecessary. But for those of us concerned about preserving life stories for grandchildren, great-grandchildren and future generations, it's not too late to add an obit to the public record. I am sorry for your loss.
Well, thank you, Maureen. Actually, it's the reverse. I'm passionately driven to help families share their stories — in any form that works. That's the foundation of everything I'm doing at Projectkin.org today, an effort that started exactly one year after my 92-year old mother passed.
So much has changed about the newspapers that once carried community obituaries and even the cemeteries that collect our loved ones. I certainly see how that is the perfect solution in many situations. In ours, it just wasn't. She was an ocean away from her home of 46 years, and the corporate interests that manage obituaries would have added nothing to our preserved family archive.
Instead, this approach allowed me to bring those who loved her together and capture their stories directly. The recording of remembrances shared in the Zoom memorial is already a treasure shared with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. That recording, the film, and our entire archive of photographs are now in a digital private archive. The whole point is to ensure they will be there for those who loved her and the descendants she will never know. Parts of it will undoubtedly find their way into public accounts over time.
As it happens, I do have a soft spot for newspapers.
Print, digital, all of it. I get the concept of a "public record," and you're right, it's important. Her grandfather, and my great-grandfather, was the editor of the Abilene Reflector-Chronicle from 1888 to 1955. I will think about reaching out to the "RC" to see if they might be interested in a story in some form.
The drastic downsizing of the newspaper industry is a terrible loss. Luckily we have the Internet and a vast array of individual sites, such as Ancestry etc. But no one could reasonably second guess your choices during the double trauma of the loss of family and the pandemic. The Zoom memorial sounds lovely.
You're very kind, and yes, it really was in ways that I'm even coming to appreciate more three years on.
In fact, I think that's an important concept for anyone suffering the loss of a loved one. Give yourself grace, and take your time. Healing takes time, and appreciating a life story takes time, too.
I have to say, when I read the title, my response was "I'm not okay with that at all!", but your story of how you got there drew me in and I understood the reasoning. My sympathies to you and your family.
Me? I want a monument after I go of me on a horse brandishing a sword. Because why not?
Thank you.
May you have your horse and sword. In fact, it looks like your local Ren Faire is ready for you with jousting this year! No need to wait: parenfaire.com/themedweekends.html
lol... I thought to look it up because I'm headed to Dragoncon this year in August.
Barbara, what a touching, heartwarming story. I feel like I know your mom from reading what you wrote. Dementia steals so much from us - so important to remember them when they were strong, loving, funny, caring moms. I have a small clip from a digitized video of my boys 4th birthday. My Mom and Aunt are in the background discussing whether or not they were going to have cake. I treasure that clip of her voice. I was one of the fortunate who didn't lose anyone close during Covid. The Covid year was for my family the "year of firsts without" for my beloved little cousin who passed in 2019. We did them all over zoom, and it did bring out so many stories and laughter.
Those Zooms are such a treasure. I have another project idea in there. More to come. Preserve your recordings.
What a wonderful remembrance of "22"! What a complicated time to grieve her death.
I've been thinking a lot about how I have relied on obituaries and cemetery directories for historical research and how much things have changed in recent years. Local newspapers have disappeared and so have the obituaries from their pages. New ways to memorialize loved ones have emerged, but it does make me wonder about how future generations will make sense of it all.
Exactly, I'd not thought much about it until I started mingling with all of you.
Of course, future generations will have many unfathomable things to make sense of.
What a beautiful memorial (and thank you for sharing how you did it since my husband wants to be buried at sea).
It is true that we are inventing new ways to mark the passing of our loved ones. They sometimes lead to unexpected discoveries. When my father died, my mother decided to scatter his ashes on a beach in Donegal, a place they both loved. When we set out from Derry that day, stopping not far from Moville, at a beach my mother liked, we did not know we were closing a circle.
In the 19th century, Ulster emigrant ships did not depart directly from Derry, but instead took passengers by boat across Lough Foyle to embark at Moville. The departing ships followed the shoreline to the tip of Inishowen to the open sea, and it was common for families of the emigrants to light bonfires along the beach, which could be seen from the ships.
None of us could possibly have known that my father was brought back to the spot from where his family had left, the very last place in Ireland that had held their footsteps.
It's incredible to have the opportunity to witness the circle closing like that. «sigh»
We spread my aunt's ashes at her favorite lake and I wondered the same thing - but it's what she would have wanted and that's important now. Such a beautiful tribute to your mother!
That is indeed the phrase. The challenge is on the open ocean where a strong breeze is blowing. The temptation is to romantically toss the ashes out over the bow as the boat surges through the waves. The thing is... (especially on a sailboat), the onshore breeze will be blowing into your face.
You see the problem.
On a sailboat designed for tourists, they have guests routinely sneak onto public cruises with a plan to scatter the ashes of their loved ones when no one is looking. Oh... awkward.
You look just like your mom, and I can see where you get your joie de vivre and itchy feet. Your grace, too.
This is beautiful. Thanks for sharing it with us.
🥹
Lori, I thought the same thing.
You're so kind. I think I've been working up to it. Only now do I realize that each of us, when we've lost a parent, will spend years untangling these yarns of feelings.
My Mom raised me to be a big hockey and football fan (Canadian Football, not soccer) . During playoff season as we have for hockey I miss her more - I want to pick up that phone and talk to her again. I want to be all decked out in our Green and Gold team gear cheering at the football game. So many things to untangle
🥹
Mine comes out like I knit: a lot of work and then a lot of unraveling.
I don't' knit. But yeah.
lol, unrivaled “unraveling” yep, I get it.
This was an absolutely beautiful story. What a wonderful way to celebrate your mother's life. My mother passed away at age 93 in 2022 and she had a preplanned funeral. The surprise for all of us was at the end at the gravesite when a gentleman stepped forward and sang the Irish lullaby Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral - no one knew it was going to happen (just the way she wanted it to be!)
Oh my… music is incredibly important to these rituals. The good people from Royal Hawaiian Catamaran had a playlist ready, striking up “Aloha Oe” at just the right moment. I was a blubbering mess and never would have thought of that. Bringing on the pros is key to gatherings like this.
Oh, and a pro tip: “Scattering ashes” just isn’t a thing. Think about the wind. No. Scatter flowers, then dive. Seriously. rhcatamaran.com. Five stars. People like that stay with you.
What a moving story - thank you for sharing. Real life is often stranger than fiction - we can't imagine how our life will turn out. We have hopes and dreams and then we face situations that we cannot imagine until something happens and we have to face reality. Your mother was a survivor - adapting to situations and making lemonade out of lemons. The Zoom memorial sounds like something I want done for me but I think being in an urn on two mantels is for me and my wife. And a Find A Grave memorial.
She was indeed, reinventing herself many times over. One unexpected beauty of the zoom service is to have it and the remembrances captured on film to be preserved for future generations. I shared it today in a private post with my extended family on our private Substack channel.
The commemorative box I parked her ashes in before we gathered in Honolulu now has an honored place in my shelf. Things can carry great meaning, can’t they?
Thank you for sharing this. I read every word slowly, letting it wash over me like a tide. What a remarkable tribute: tender, grounded, and filled with grace.
Your mother’s story isn’t just beautifully told; it’s beautifully lived. The way your family honored her—on her terms, in her place, with your own rituals shaped by circumstance and intention—feels deeply human and wholly right. I’ve often said that memory doesn’t always need a headstone. It needs a witness. And what you’ve created, through film, coordinates, water, laughter, and story, is witness of the highest order.
You asked whether we’re inventing new commemorative forms. I think the answer is yes and no. The forms are evolving, but the impulse is ancient: to gather, to remember, to speak the name, to return a loved one to a place that matters. Whether it’s a grave, a coral reef, or a family Zoom call, it’s still about presence, connection, and meaning.
And as for future genealogists? They’ll be just fine. Because of storytellers like you, they’ll inherit not just names and dates, but depth. Emotion. A sense of place. And if they’re lucky, they’ll find your coordinates and understand that love once lived there too.
Thank you again for letting us witness it. Tutu’s story will stay with me.
P.S. I love that Mom came from Chicago to the world. I lived there for nearly a decade—and it’s where I found love. If America is a dream in progress, Chicago is where you hear the hammering.
Oh Christopher, thank you. That means a great deal coming from you.