The Importance of Memorial Services

They can help those of us who are left. 

I attended a memorial service for a dear friend the other day. He was a fellow volunteer that I had the pleasure and honor of working beside at the elephant exhibit at our local zoo. We both adored elephants and bonded over our love of these majestic creatures. We became friends.

You never know where and when you will make an important connection in your life. You might not even realize the importance of that connection until it’s gone. 

That happened to me with my friend that I will, for this article, call Henry. 

Meet Henry.

He was 93. Yes, I know that he had a good life, and I am glad about that. He got to do what he loved until the very end. 

That doesn’t make the pain of losing him be any less. 

He volunteered six days a week, driving himself there. He loved it and would say “What else am I going to do, sit at home?” He would engage with all who walked by him, asking “Who wants to know something about elephants?” It was such a delight to watch the interactions between him and all the guests. 

He would tell the many stories he had accumulated over the years. Some of them poignant as he educated people about the ivory trade and how elephants are killed for this. Some of his stories were funny, like about the little boy who yelled “Look at the trunk of the baby elephant coming out of that big elephant!” as he watched our (very well endowed) male elephant. There would be such laughter from the guests. 

Henry and I would chat in the mornings before the guests began to arrive, and we began to get to know each other. We would talk about the zoo, the guests, and he would tell me about his life, his wife who had died some time ago, his acting history, his thoughts about aging ( he was continually amazed at how thin his skin had become, so much so that he wore a jacket or long sleeves all the time as his skin tore easily with any bump or scrape). I understand more and more what he was talking about as I continue my own aging path. 

He loved seeing and hearing all the languages and races and ethnicities of people who visited the zoo and would always say how lucky we were to live in an area rich with so many cultures and differences. 

He would talk about times past and things like what the price of gas used to be back in his day (10 cents!). He was grateful each day that he was still alive and still able to do what he loved. 

Pay attention to the gift of this present moment in time. 

One day, our elephant was determined to work on a particular pile of branches that were on the far upper side of the exhibit, opposite where Henry usually stationed himself. Since my job is to observe and record, I didn’t get to walk close to Henry for a while. By the time our elephant moved, Henry was busy with guests, so I didn’t get to talk to him that day. 

I’ll catch him on our next day together, I thought. 

That was the last day that I saw Henry. I heard that he went home after his shift and had a major stroke. 

Note to self…Each time that you see someone may be the last time that you ever see them. Remember that. Don’t assume a future. 

I visited him in the nursing facility where he was sent after being released from the ICU at the hospital. The staff at the rehab nursing facility had worked hard with him that morning with the various therapies (physical therapy, speech therapy). He was exhausted and didn’t wake up while I was there. I had brought a few photos of our elephant and asked the nursing staff to hang them up in his room so that he could see them when he woke up. 

His family, after a few days, let the zoo staff know that they had brought him home and that he was in hospice now. We were told that our zoo staff and volunteers could visit him at home.

Unfortunately, I had to isolate and quarantine myself as I got COVID for the first time. So, I didn’t get to visit Henry at home. By the time I finally tested negative for COVID, he had died. 

Lesson repeated…Treat each time that you are with someone as if it is the last. It very well may be. 

The memorial, which really was for all of us to come together and share.

The family had a memorial service held at the zoo, in a beautiful building that they use for special events. 

I had never met his family. Yet here we all were together, his biological family and his zoo family, coming together in our sadness and pain. I forced myself to stand up and speak at his memorial, although this is not something that I usually am comfortable with. I wanted to share my experience with Henry, to let his family know about yet another piece of him. I looked around at all those that loved him, honoring and celebrating his life and who he was. I shared how very grateful I was to have known him and to have had him be part of my life for a while. 

How little we sometimes know about some people in our lives, about the rest of their lives, about their history, about what others love about them, about who not only they are in front of us, but who they have been to others, about the whole of them. We may not know how loved and cherished they have been, how special they have been to so many. There is so much to each person that we encounter, each soul that stands in front of us. There are so many stories that we do not know.

So, I got to hear more about who Henry was. His son spoke, his daughter spoke, his grandchildren were all there as were his great grandchildren.

Some of the other volunteer docents spoke, sharing their own memories, and especially about how Henry would always get up and sing at some point during their meetings. He sang once for me, his favorite song…What a Wonderful World (composed by Bob Thiel and George David Weiss). I will never forget that. Now I have two voices in my heart that sing that to me, Louis Armstrong and Henry. 

Hung all around at the memorial were photos of him as a child, as a young man, as a young husband and father, and as an actor on the stage. His son had also put together a video, where we could not only see him through the years, but hear once again his wonderful baritone voice. There were tears and smiles all around. 

The memorial was beautiful. It was to honor Henry. It also was for those of us left here on this earth at this moment in time, to honor our love for him, to honor our loss and grief. It enabled us to come together and bring some comfort to each other, knowing we were together in this deep human process of grief, acknowledging that we each face this with family and friends that we will lose, and that eventually we will be the ones who leave. 

I miss Henry. I came to love him. And I am so grateful to have been able to be part of the memorial that honored and celebrated him. It helped me feel a bit less alone for a while. 

Henry, I will take your spirit with me so that we can be together once again in front of our wonderful elephants. I am so very grateful to have shared a bit of this path with you. 

Sending elephant trumpets and rumbles, my friend.