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A DIY coffin workshop in Germany in 2019 (Photo: Getty Images; additional design Tina Tiller)
A DIY coffin workshop in Germany in 2019 (Photo: Getty Images; additional design Tina Tiller)

SocietyJuly 20, 2022

How to DIY a funeral

A DIY coffin workshop in Germany in 2019 (Photo: Getty Images; additional design Tina Tiller)
A DIY coffin workshop in Germany in 2019 (Photo: Getty Images; additional design Tina Tiller)

The rising cost of dying has been in the news lately, as more and more families struggle to afford funerals. There is another way to farewell loved ones, however – and, as two brothers write, it can be a deeply personal and fulfilling endeavour.

Some of our earliest memories are of a funeral. We were six and almost nine when our mother died at 28 years old, shortly after a cancer diagnosis. There have been relatively few deaths in the 40 years since. However, as we age, funerals become more common – hopefully after long and fulfilling lives, but not always.

Our childhood memories of our mum’s funeral, and sporadic visits to the cemetery in Māngere, South Auckland, where she is buried, are prickly, unsettled and heavy. This is unsurprising, given our age, but we have also found more recent funerals sometimes sit with the same weight. They have inevitably been formal events run by professionals who embrace their delicate trade with compassion. But they do them every day of the week and while sincere, they usually feel impersonal. 

We understand the myriad reasons for this. Losing a loved one is a time of intense grieving, so having professional help makes complete sense.

However, families have the option to make them so much more deeply personal and fulfilling by jointly taking on this task themselves. This, of course, is familiar to Māori, Pasifika and many other cultures within Aotearoa New Zealand.

But we are Pākehā New Zealanders, and the cultural norms we have partially inherited don’t typically include long and intense rituals. Indeed, for many of us the only time we visit a church is for weddings and funerals. However, as brothers we do things for ourselves in all aspects of our lives – from the business we run as ecologists, to making preserves, renovating our houses, fishing and hunting for the table, nurturing our gardens or crocks of kimchi, barrels of kombucha or home-brewed beer.

We take great pride in our sense of independence while being fiercely loyal to our family and friends. Taking responsibility for the funerals and wakes of our family is just a natural extension of the way we live. It is also tremendously cathartic and fulfilling, though we note that having a largish family helps, with tasks to suit all personality types – including simply grieving.

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Our family weren’t really given a choice about how to farewell our mother’s parents when they passed. Our Irish Catholic grandmother and Yorkshire grandfather moved to New Zealand in the early 1960s with four young children. You can take the Irish Catholic matriarch out of Ireland, but you can’t take the Irish out of the Irish Catholic matriarch. And so, before our grandmother succumbed to dementia, she was adamant that she wanted a traditional Irish Catholic wake and funeral. For her this meant the family took responsibility, no strangers touching her body, no embalming, three days from death to burial, her body was never alone, the house was open to all to come and pay their respects, and she was to be buried beside our mother and her mother, with space for our grandfather when his time came.

Our grandfather, a thoroughly modern technologist with atheist leanings, willingly converted to Catholicism to wed his Irish gal, and he too wanted to follow Irish burial traditions. He was also a practical and creative man who did things for himself, who liked to save a penny, and was completely unsentimental about the afterlife. Indeed, his self-written eulogy included, among many other cracking good lines, “If you believe it [the funeral] was planned by a skinflint then the skinflint’s remains are in the box before you. I personally believe I am long gone to wherever I was scheduled to go.” He did the initial homework, determining that the family could legally conduct almost the entire burial process. However, it was with his characteristic and at times mischievous humour that he left the finer details for the family to work out.

Helen and Graham Kitchenman, the authors’ grandparents, in 1951 and 2019 (Photos: Supplied)

Thankfully, there are many skills, and more importantly a great willingness and sense of duty, within the family. As an example, one of their sons, our uncle, is a builder and was tasked with crafting the caskets. Our grandmother passed very suddenly at 93 so our uncle quickly built a casket for her, with an aunty working late into the night sewing a beautiful but simple cotton lining. For our grandfather, our uncle and aunty sorted the casket ahead of time. Our grandfather would proudly tell people about the flat-packed casket that lay waiting in his wardrobe for the day he passed. He was even more proud to share the positive result of his trials with the heat pump to keep the lounge cool during the wake, even in summer. These subjects could be conversation stoppers, but for him, and many of us, speaking about passing perhaps helps ease the mystery and, more importantly, the fear of what lies ahead.

We are animals, us humans, so once our bodies stop functioning, the bare-faced truth is that decomposition starts. We had to slow that process for the three-day wake.  So, in addition to the heat pump working away to keep the lounge cool, we placed the body on a plastic tarpaulin that would capture any fluids. We also bought bags of salt ice normally destined for a day’s fishing on the Hauraki Gulf. For our purposes we triple-bagged the salt ice in plastic rubbish bags and arranged these as icy sausage pillows to surround the body in the casket. To supplement the heat pump we also hired an air-conditioner, simply vented out a cracked window, to keep the room as cool as possible. Lastly, the windows were blacked out with tape and cardboard and all the curtains were shut in the lounge to keep out the warmth of the sun.

Family and friends visited during the three-day wake. During this time one of our grandparents’ granddaughters, our cousin, led the assembly of a funeral card that celebrated each of our grandparents in a few select photos, a little information, and gave the schedule of the funeral and burial. Searching for just the right photos and information to fill this farewell card was a lovely way to trigger stories and reminiscences by family and friends.

One of us led on ensuring the legal requirements were satisfied, and that all the necessary steps were in place for the required three-day timeline to be met. It goes without saying that thinking about all of this ahead of time is tremendously helpful. We both work in science, so for us a simple checklist was the easiest way to ensure that everything was covered. This is what our list contained:

  • Ideally, the deceased’s will, power of attorney, end-of-life care and wishes for their funeral are documented and distributed among the family well prior to death.
  • Following death, the police, ambulance staff and the deceased’s doctor must be notified. The doctor will issue a cause of death certificate. This needs to be sent to the Department of Internal Affairs with the notice of death form, which will generate the death certificate. The notice of death form can be obtained ahead of time from the Department of Internal Affairs website. The notice of death form needs to be submitted within three days of burial. 
  • A coffin must be prepared; we chose untreated ply. Plastic handles were purchased for the casket bearers to use, but these were removed immediately prior to the burial, and kept for future use (our grandfather was also opposed to being buried with plastic). If a loved one’s passing is somewhat expected, the coffin can be prepared ahead of time and stored for eventual use.
  • The family cleaned and prepared the body for burial. Embalming is not required and is far from environmentally friendly. The body should be washed with a light antiseptic solution. Prior to dressing the body, it is a good idea to put a couple of pairs of adult incontinent pants on the person to deal with any leakage that might happen post death.
  • The body will set reasonably quickly so it is important to close the eyes if needs be, pop something under the chin to keep the mouth shut and set the loved one in an appropriate position. Their arms might also need to be supported to keep them in place.
  • We used two poles and a tarpaulin to move the body. This needs to be done very carefully to make sure nobody hurts themselves because you are, after all, moving a dead weight. Just take your time and have a plan that everybody understands. 
  • For our grandparents’ wakes their bodies lay in state in their beloved family home (see above about keeping this space cool).
  • Elevate the head end of the casket about 20-30mm, ie the head should be a little bit higher than the rest of the body to deal with any fluid escape. 
  • The body will need to have salt ice packed around it. We triple-bagged it, taking care to make sure the bags were very securely tied. The ice will last really well if carefully insulated, and the room is cold, but it will start to melt over the course of three days (we felt terribly guilty packing ice around our grandmother, because she always felt the cold, but we hope she would have understood why we had to do so).
  • Cover the body with duvets and heavy covers to provide extra insulation.
  • Place a net over the face and head. 
  • Contact the cemetery. It was vital for us to have pre-purchased burial plots ready, so we could keep with the Irish tradition of a three-day wake. If you choose to cremate, liaise with the crematorium ahead of time so you know what you will have to do.
  • Our cemetery required us to have a funeral director onsite for the actual burial. This was all they did, they were just there, and we appreciated that they just let us get on with farewelling and burying our grandparents.
  • Arrange a location for the funeral service. We used our grandparents’ Catholic church, but the venue need not be a religious site.
  • Arrange morning tea for after the funeral service. In our case the church could arrange this. Simply paying them to do so gave us one less job to think about.
  • Place a death notice in the newspaper.
  • Arrange a vehicle that can safely and securely transport the casket. We frequently joked with our grandfather that we would pop him on the roof racks for the trip from his home to the cemetery, which he thought was funny, but not really appropriate. We used a van, and suggest you do too.
  • Choose the pall bearers. This is an opportunity for many people to be involved if they want to. We required four “moves” of the casket with four to six pall bearers per move: (1) the house to the vehicle, (2) the vehicle to the church, (3) the church back to the vehicle, (4) the vehicle to the burial plot. By placing more capable people on the coffin corners we could have others in the middle slots, especially grandchildren and great grandchildren.
  • As a final farewell, we filled the burial site ourselves. Tears flowed as shovels were passed from person to person and the casket covered. Have a good number of shovels on hand, and perhaps some gumboots. 

There are many resources available for DIY funerals, and we recommend having them on hand, especially for the first time, if this is something that interests you. It is not for everyone – we understand that. But for us the process was so cathartic, and created so much bonding between family and friends, that we wanted to share our experiences here. Unlike many funerals we have attended, our grandparents’ funerals were deeply personal, filled with a loving sadness in conducting the final job they tasked us with, a great gift, and a celebration of lives well lived.  

Keep going!
Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

SocietyJuly 19, 2022

Bloody hell: Outstanding period horror stories from across Aotearoa

Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

Warning: the following period stories, submitted by readers across the country, are not for the faint of heart. 

All week we are examining our relationship with menstruation in Aotearoa. Read more Bleed Week content here. 

It ain’t always easy to go about your regular life when some of your insides are trying to get outside. Anyone who has a period will have a good spooky story to tell with a torch under their chin about wearing white pants on the wrong day, forgetting a tampon on a trip into the wilderness, or dropping their bloody cup in a public toilet. We asked you to send in your gnarliest, funniest, saddest, scariest, weirdest period stories, and you delivered. Reader, you have been warned.

One-sentence wonders

I bled all over my boyfriend’s new pants while grinding on him. 

My tampon fell out while running. 

Period came during my first time being a nude model.

The shortest period horror story ever: endometriosis.

This can actually happen

Puberty blues

I’d had my period for about a year and had been using pads. The worst thing ever finally happened and my period coincided with the upcoming swimming sports at school. Mum said it was time for me to learn to use tampons. I could not get the hang of them, wasted about 15 Tampax, cried for 24 hours and vomited into the bathroom bin full of bloody cardboard applicators. Mum eventually had to help me put one in. I still want to die thinking about it but I did do reasonably well in the 100m backstroke.

I got my first period when I was 12. Once I hit 15, my cramps would be so painful that I would get dizzy and vomit. The first two days of every period for a while were spent horizontal with a hot water bottle or on the porcelain throne. 

I was on form two camp and we walked from camp to horse riding. I got halfway there, a 10-minute walk, and I bled through my super tampon and my clothes and the blood started dripping down my leg. It was excruciatingly embarrassing and I had to walk back with one of the teachers to change.

When I first got my period I was so freaked out about it that I threw all my bloody undies and pads into a bucket under the house and poured bleach on it every few weeks hoping it would all dissolve. We moved house years ago, but the blood monster bucket is probably still there. 

My mother gave me tampons without explaining how they worked and so I would put them in but not push them upwards and it was a very uncomfortable experience until I read the little booklet on the packet a few cycles later! 

What a sentient pad monster looks like (probably)

Out and about

I fell asleep on the plane and bled through my light blue jeans. Walked down the whole aisle unaware, then had to wear them for another 12 hours. I always pack a change of clothes now.

Decidual cast is a rare side effect of the pill and I’ve had it twice [editor’s note: do not Google this at work]. It’s white and fleshy, looks like an alien from a cheap horror game in the early 2010s. I had the worst cramping in my life before it came out in one big jelly glop. Also, I was on the piss when it happened and the pain stopped so I just flushed and carried on with my night.     

I was once really high at a barbecue and on my period. My foot went numb about seven times, so I kept going out to reread the tampon leaflet to make sure it wasn’t toxic shock syndrome. Kept reassuring myself and heading back to the barbecue over and over. As I was coming down, I realised I had been tucking one foot underneath myself every time I sat down. 

On my gap year when I was 17, I got my period and had a heavy flow. Wondering why my lady bits smelt super funky – realised about four days later that my tampon had been lost up there and I’d been putting in second tampons. 

Once my cramps got so bad that I ended up curled up in a ball at the mall and had to be helped down the stairs because I couldn’t walk without falling over. 

My first night wearing period underwear and I went to a friend’s house for dinner. I wore their most absorbent underwear (good for three tampons’ worth, apparently). All I can say is it was a literal bloodbath, Stephen King wouldn’t have gotten a look in. Forty years old and still failing. 

Going to any event with your period

Work woes

I slightly bled through my pants when I was a junior lawyer a few years ago. I asked to pop home and get changed and my male boss said “you might as well stay there – you lot are no use when when you’re on the rag anyway”. 

I was working freelance for a couple days in a fancy Ponsonby office. I went to the bathroom and emptied my menstrual cup but I must have been not really thinking because for some reason that day I hadn’t emptied it into the wharepaku first, I just put the full menstrual cup under the tap and turned it on…. only to find the tap was like fire hose pressure and splashed the contents of the cup all over the mirror, the wall, the floor and me.

My manager at work asked me if I wanted a promotion and I couldn’t speak or say anything in reply because I could feel my cup leaking into my expensive new jeans. 

Bleeding through my white jeans at work at age 30 made me feel like a Libra ad from the 90s directed by heterosexual men who’d never bought their wives tampons in their lives.

In the 90s, everyone on their periods wore white.

Cup carnage

The first time I decided to try out my menstrual cup I was roughly three wines deep after the launch party for Survivor season two and I did not read the instructions properly. Shoving it up there with the aplomb of a well-seasoned tampon user, I went to bed and forgot about it until the NEXT EVENING when it started LEAKING and I remembered I was WITH CUP. Unfortunately, due to aforementioned aplomb, I had placed the cup waaaaay too high and my stupid stubby fingers couldn’t get a good grip on it. At this point my lizard brain took over and I simply lay down in the bath, doing deep breaths, and GAVE BIRTH to my menstrual cup. 

My moon cup popped out while bouncing on a TRAMPOLINE at the ZOO and I had to walk past the LION ENCLOSURE to the toilet to sort myself out. 

At the opening night of the Auckland Art Fair, my moon cup started gushing blood. I had to walk half the length of the Cloud with my legs stuck together so the blood wouldn’t run down to my ankles. A friend helped me to get to the bathroom and we were in hysterics because I had blood running down to my knees. 

On about day three of my first foray into menstrual cup life, I tried to pull it out it at work to empty, as I’d done successfully the previous couple of days, but I couldn’t get a grip on the bugger. Ah well, I thought, it’s not leaking, I’ll just leave it. I gave it no further thought. Until, on getting home that evening, I discovered – with a sense of increasing dread – that the cup was stuck. Jammed in there. Not. Coming. Out. I could reach it, just, but the stem was nowhere to be found. The cup had somehow turned itself sideways. Feeling increasingly panicky, I texted my sister to inform her of my predicament. She responded, helpfully, with OH MY GOD THIS IS A DISASTER WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO????!!!! I ended the conversation and sat on the couch for a while, did some Googling, wondered if I’d have to go to A&E, then messaged a workmate who I recall had experienced a similar predicament [editor’s note: see above]. Both Google and the workmate were far more helpful than my sister: relax, do some deep breathing, maybe lie down in the bath or shower and bear down. It’s not pretty but it works – essentially, I gave birth to the cup, then poured myself a stiff drink to recover. I admit I swore off that cursed cup for the next few cycles, but eventually, I braved it once again, and you know what? It was absolutely fine. The moral of the story is you don’t need to shove it up there as far as you might think – it’s not a tampon! And if it does get stuck, try to stay calm and remember – it will come out. 

A beautiful birth

THE R18 SEALED SECTION

I was hooking up with my boss from a bar I worked at, it was dark but I could tell that things were a bit slicker than usual and did some quick mental calculations and realised I was due to get my period. He was really going to town and I didn’t want to ruin his flow, but when he finished I told him to go to straight to the shower and not turn on the light. I heard him go in, flick on the light and then I heard him scream. He was splattered in menstrual blood from his knees to his chest.

It was my third date with my ex, and after we had sex I dripped period blood all over her white bathmat. Honestly, bold of me to have period sex on the third date though. 

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Once I went home with someone and woke up in the morning with what can only be described as a murder scene that had exploded in my bed. I was hungover and only realised when he got up to go to the bathroom that we were both covered in blood. I wanted to melt into a sea of nothingness in that moment and ever since can’t sleep next to someone if I have my period or know it’s due soon.

I was making out with someone and I was a bit tipsy and I knew that eventually I would have to tell him I was on my period, but I was enjoying the make-out session in the meantime. Things were getting hotter and heavier and I was pretty into it and hands started roaming places, I had my menstrual cup in so… “certain activities” were able to be entertained without detection. I think I got a bit carried away because the next thing I know, dude is trying to get it in and being met tip first with the pointy end of my menstrual cup. “Oh yeah! I should mention something…”

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