A death is a death....or is it?

My grandmother passed away on August 7th. It was an expected event, after spending weeks in a rehabilitation hospital fighting infection...We had a double burial at Rose Hills Memorial Park, she and my grandfather (who passed July 30, 2010 and who's cremains stayed with us at home) were buried together, along side their son (my dad who passed October 6, 1990) and my grandfather's sister (who passed June 13, 2006). It was a bittersweet moment in my life...I've devoted the last 6 years to caring for my grandparents and grandaunt. And the last two years have been a battle with grandma, who had difficulty asking for or admitting she needed help and never showed her appreciation for me. While I'm glad she is no longer suffering, I am also relieved to be able to reclaim my life as my own and do what I need to do for myself and my husband, who is battling cancer.  When I lost my auntie back in June of this year, it hit me like a truck. It was unexpected, out of the blue. I could not stop myself from crying and feeling an emptiness in my heart that I had never felt in my life. I'll admit, I sometimes listen to voice mails she left me months ago...just to hear her sweet voice again. I was blessed to have a big support group of close friends and family...even my virtual family of Facebook friends. I received more flowers and hugs than I could ever ask for. Cards came in the mail just about every day. Phone calls, texts and emails were sent...I felt surrounded by love and comfort. We had over 400 people attend a beautiful ceremony with video tributes, flowers galore and a white dove release at the end.  But with my grandmother, it was a different story. She was 98...most of her family is already gone, sad to say. She had told us she wanted simplicity when it came to her service, so we requested no flowers. It was short and simple, just as requested. But I wasn't prepared for the difference in how the death itself was treated. Very few cards came. Relatives sent beautiful planters to the house and a dear friend brought a lovely plant in person. Another friend sent a monetary offering...keeping an endearing Japanese tradition alive, which I adore her for doing so. A loving cousin text and emailed several times the days leading to and after the service...she is still doing so, which is why I love her too! But the circle of love and support I've come to depend on in my time of need didn't seem to develop on as grand a scale this time around. And no, I'm not fishing for sympathy. I'm not angry that we didn't have a large turn out for the service. I'm simply trying to understand and educate people, my readers, on the topic of death. In working in the funeral business in the past, I've now been on both sides of the coin. And I've learned more as a mourner than I did as a funeral director. Every death is significant. It doesn't matter if it is stillborn child, a convicted murderer or a victim of an accident. Each person who dies leaves someone behind. Someone misses that person, the daily interaction...even the bad times they had with them. The tradition of sending stamps with a thank you card to people who have sent monetary or floral gifts is a Japanese American custom. It is a token gift as a sign of appreciation from the family and a way of saying, "Please continue to stay in touch by use of these stamps." It's beautiful and touching, a way to reach out to others not to forget those who are left behind after a death. A friend in the medical field once told me that cancer survivors usually go through a depression after they complete therapy. They become used to seeing doctors, nurses and others as a weekly routine. Suddenly, once they are cured, they've lost that circle of support. They are no longer asked on a regular basis, "How are you? What can I do for you?" That amount of personal attention is suddenly gone. It's the same way when someone passes away. Funerals are about the survivors, not the deceased. Once the casket is in the ground, the flowers have wilted and the thank you cards have been sent, it's not over. I guess what I'm saying is, please continue to show support and love to a family. Be there for them, in whatever capacity you can and that they need. Because a death of any sort is still a death.