I’ve lived in France for a little over 20 years, and I’ve attended several funerals during that time. This year, I attended the funeral of my husband’s great-uncle in Orléans, in central France, and that of an acquaintance in Paris.
In France, when someone dies in a hospital or at home, it is customary to handle the arrangements through a funeral home.
Funeral services must be held within two weeks of death. Due to church schedules and other factors, they are rarely held on weekends. In the past, the body was sometimes kept at home until the funeral, but nowadays it is kept at a funeral home or a hospital’s mortuary for several days. During this time, those close to the deceased visit to pay their respects, so it is perhaps similar to a Japanese wake.
However, I don’t think many French people go to view the body. I feel this is partly because death is still somewhat of a taboo in France today, but it’s also because many people want to hold onto memories of the deceased when they were still alive and full of vitality. I’ve only gone to view a body once in France, and even then, only a handful of people were there.
If the deceased was a Catholic, the funeral is often held at a Catholic church. My uncle’s funeral was held at a local church, and I was surprised to see a rather elderly priest there—only to learn that my uncle had requested it while he was still alive. This priest is now practically retired, and I was told he had come all the way from the senior living facility where he resides. Given the effort he went to make this request, the priest spoke lovingly and with a touch of humor about the beauty of life—and his words resonated deeply with me, even though I am not a Catholic.
In addition to these elements, the funeral service included hymns, Bible readings, and speeches by family members. There were no dress code requirements for attendees; while no one wore flashy colors, there were some people in miniskirts, and many others wore jeans.
Finally, for Catholic believers, there is Holy Communion, during which the priest hands out thin, round wafers. Afterward, amid the rising incense smoke, all participants—even those who are not Catholic—walk around the coffin while sprinkling holy water, and the ceremony concludes. Since the coffin is closed, it is not possible to see the body. The entire funeral lasts about an hour. My uncle was in his early 80s, but since he had lived his entire life in the same town, there were so many attendees that the coffin was completely soaked with holy water!
As soon as the funeral service at the church is over, we head to the cemetery. In France, it is common for graves to have a limited term. There are three types of graves in France: family graves, graves for couples, and individual graves. In all cases, once the fee paid at the time of purchase has expired and the grave is not renewed, it is removed. At that time, the remains are transferred to a communal columbarium.
In France, the eldest son isn’t traditionally buried in the family grave, but my uncle—who was the eldest son—had said during his lifetime that he wanted to be buried with his parents, and he also mentioned that he would be cremated to make room for them. However, after my uncle’s death, his wife and children decided they didn’t want him to be cremated after all, so they scrambled to find a grave, and he was buried in the ground.
After my uncle’s funeral, the number of people heading to the cemetery drops significantly, as only those closest to the deceased tend to go. Once the coffin is lowered into the grave, the attendees toss flowers onto it, and that’s the end of the ceremony. A priest sometimes attends, but perhaps because the deceased was elderly, he did not come this time. Once the mourners had left, soil was placed over the coffin, and a temporary grave marker was set up. The mourners then gathered at a nearby restaurant, where they reminisced about the deceased over a light buffet before going their separate ways.
An acquaintance of mine in Paris held a sort of non-religious memorial service at a building within Père Lachaise Cemetery, the only place in Paris that offers cremation services. It was a simple ceremony in which a few people gave speeches in memory of the deceased while their favorite music played. Afterward, the deceased was cremated, and the attendees gathered in a salon within the same building to share light refreshments while remembering the deceased. Unlike a church, there are multiple ceremony halls, so services were held one after another.
My uncle was ultimately buried, but in France these days, about half of all deaths result in cremation. An acquaintance of mine in Paris was in a same-sex marriage, and the surviving partner said they wouldn’t set up a grave but would soon scatter the ashes at a place that held memories for the two of them, in accordance with the law. In cases like this, where ashes are scattered in nature rather than in a designated scattering area within a cemetery, there is an obligation to report this to the city hall in the deceased’s place of birth. In cases of cremation, the ashes may also be placed in a columbarium.
As for visiting graves, November 1 is All Saints’ Day, a Catholic holiday that is also a national holiday. On this day, French people visit cemeteries to place potted chrysanthemums on graves, but the number of people who do not participate in this tradition is increasing; according to one survey, about 40 percent do not go. Reasons for not going include having no interest in religious rituals—as they are Catholics who were merely baptized—the graves being too far away, and not placing much importance on the connection to ancestors or the deceased. Regardless of whether it’s November 1st, I occasionally go with my husband to visit the graves of his maternal grandparents—but this is because we were close to them when they were alive; I have never once visited his paternal grandparents’ graves.
I’m only familiar with the customs in Paris and the surrounding area, and I’m sure things are different in other regions, but the above is what I know about funerals in France. When my husband attended my father’s Buddhist funeral in Japan, he was surprised by the differences compared to France—such as the handling of the body (especially the collection of ashes), funeral attire, and the custom of visiting the grave afterward. I believe the emotions one feels upon losing a loved one are universal, but through funerals, you can also gain insight into the deceased’s views on life and death, their religious beliefs, their family values, and the culture of that country.
© Source travel watch