If you have been living under a stupid rock, “LOL” stands for “laugh out loud.” People have been LOLing since digital messaging began. Grandmas lol. Millennials LOL. Hipsters LOL ironically.
Everyone lols in their own way.
What does lol have to do with an open casket? Nothing.
But I wanted to draw a comic about death, dreams, and a charred body. I thought LOL would make everyone more comfortable. LOL.
Few things are more uncomfortable than looking at dead bodies.
But seeing a body must help internalize something; give a sense of finality.
We didn’t have an open casket for my sister, Melissa.
The plane that carried my sister went missing with no witnesses and no recorded flight plan. It felt extremely fake.
The night before she went missing, Melissa and I spoke on Skype.
We talked for over an hour. She did not mention plans to board a plane the next day.
While she was missing, my family went to Melissa’s apartment to double-check that she wasn’t hanging out in her room and ignoring her phone calls. Also to feed Melissa’s cat, Snibbles.
I asked my mom to look for the camera, to which I was now oddly attached.
Snibbles is a de-clawed indoor cat on whom we project fantasies of escaping to the great outdoors.
My family learned that Melissa had gone on a plane sight-seeing trip with some friends around Glacier National Park.
Glacier covers over one million acres of places to hide plane crashes. The park is also surrounded by millions of acres of additional plane-crash-hiding forest and wilderness.
It was like playing “Where’s Waldo?” but less fun. For several days, rescuers searched for the plane.
Did the plane fly to Canada? Did they crash in a river? Did they crash and die, their bodies eaten by bears? (a ranger told us this happened after a plane crash several years earlier). Did they crash in the wilderness and were attempting to hike out on broken legs?
Of course, most of the survivors in JP3 are later eaten by dinosaurs.
After three days of scouring the remote wilderness, search parties found the wreckage. My younger sister Emily messaged me on Skype.
My dad called. Turns out it wasn’t a ruse by Snibbles after all. LOL.
I returned home to prepare for Melissa’s funeral. On arrival, I was welcomed by new terrible details.
Snibbles pretended like nothing even happened.
Melissa was getting regular dental checkups. Good for her.
It took the coroner a few days to report the cause of death.
My family was terrified that Melissa and her friends had survived the crash, only to be trapped in the plane during the subsequent fire.
The autopsy came. I never read it, but I remember the manila folder sitting in our living room.
My mom told me what the autopsy said.
They weren’t killed in the fire. They were killed before the fire. lol.
The casket was closed at Melissa’s funeral. Was having it open even allowed?
Did I want to see her remains, knowing I would never be able to un-see? I don’t know. I know that I was curious. I know that I was scared.
I still don’t know the extent of the damage to the bodies. I never asked to see pictures.
We gave the mortician a yellow dress for Melissa to wear inside the casket. She had been searching for a yellow dress, and a few days before she died, she called my mom to say she had found one.
Did I really want answers?
I wanted to see Melissa’s body when we found out she had died. I wanted to protect her body, even if she wasn’t “there” anymore.
I hate that her body was burned after the crash. I hate the images my mind conjures. I hate knowing that there was any type of injury on her body at all.
I wanted to cry over her like they get to in the movies—and some people get to do in real life.
Sometimes I think not seeing Melissa’s body, and not having an open casket at her funeral, is at the core of a problem I’ve experience since she died—incessant “GOTCHA” dreams.
GOTCHA!
Before Mel’s death, I imagined my dreams would allow me to reconnect following the death of a loved one. I assumed dreams would be a way—the way—to stay connected to a person after their death. It would be a beautiful, calming experience.
Instead my dreams after Melissa died are … disappointing.
In the dreams, Melissa tries to lead me astray with bogus excuses of her whereabouts.
New Dumphries? Cha-right.
Definitely a fake school.
My sister was a terrible liar.
Waking up from these dreams is the worst.
But I don’t hug her.
Instead of appreciating her, I drill her with 20 questions about her whereabouts, irritated by her implausible answers.
Would I have the dreams I romanticized—where I get to reconnect with Melissa and it’s an awesome and beautiful experience—if she hadn’t died suddenly? Would my dreams be rose-colored if her body hadn’t been blacker than burnt toast, and I could have seen her?
I have no idea. Lol.
As you get older, you go to more and more funerals. Where I grew up there was always an open casket. I don’t think I ever saw anyone who looked like themselves. When I was ten, I had a 4 year old brother who died in a fire. He and a neighbor girl were playing with matches. The bodies were not totally burned. They both had open caskets. My brother had heavy makeup. The little neighbor girl had some kind of mask over her face! It didn’t look like either of them. I don’t think there has been much improvement in their makeup skills in the last 50 years lol! I think I like seeing the pictures of their smiling faces better.
Ginger, thank you for writing this. It broke my heart to hear the story of your brother. I think one of the strangest things about an open casket is how little the person inside looks like themselves. And that is heartbreaking in a whole new way. I agree that pictures of smiling faces is the way to remember people :).
Sarah- I just discovered that I have been struck from the invitation list of the ‘Family Picnic’ (God forbid). This means I will only see you at weddings and funerals (no pun intended). Apparently something I said on Facebook was misinterpreted and misconstrued into something I never implied . I acknowledge/understand your poetic liscence herewith. Different and highly unique- we all handle tragedy/stress on our own level. Within our family dynamics, as, your personal relationships… there may be a price for the aforementioned?
Hi Gary, thanks for your comments. It can be complicated to know the best way to handle a tragedy – I have found that writing (and humor) helps me tremendously. I hope my comics can help others out there dealing with difficulties in their lives as well!
I am sensitive to your mothers remarks… but I get it!
I had a conversation last night with a couple of friends about what we would want done to our bodies if we passed away. I responded:
“I would want to be burnt to ashes, and put in a bunch of zip-lock bags. No fancy urn. I would want my friends to put a bag in the pocket of their fleece jackets. I would like them to put a cold beer in the other pocket. I would want them to hike up the mountain near my house [Grouse Mountain], and every once in a while, spread my ashes on the trail. If they wanted to have a beer, make a cheers, and tell a story, they could do that. But I like the idea that I become the part of someone else’s trail. I would never want to be a body buried in the ground.”
I don’t want to have a funeral. I went to bed satisfied with my answer. And then the morning after, I read this powerful piece of work, and the timing just seemed rather insane. Sarah, this is really powerful, touching, and some of the little moments raise clever truths about death and the way we deal with it. Or perhaps, how we hope to deal with it.
I think this is really important stuff Sarah.
Fascinating, Mica!
First, that you were discussing with friends your wishes after you die, and second, what you want. I think it’s an absolutely beautiful idea to have friends carry a piece of you up Grouse with a beer.
Thank you for reaching out and sharing your thoughts. I’m so, so happy you liked the story! 🙂
Also – this was the most difficult story to write and illustrate so far. It really helps me keep wanting to write when my comics resonate with people. Thank you for saying this story is powerful and important. The support means so much!
I appreciate that you write so candidly. When my mother was murdered I was away at college and we didn’t have an open casket-it’s always felt surreal-like she’s just been busy, not answering her phone, off at work or out with friends…not like she died and I haven’t seen her for 10 years. The gotcha dreams are the worst! My mom always gets pissed at me for asking why a million times and then it’s over. Not confirming she was dead is the biggest regret of my life.
I remember wanting your sister and Brian to be safe in the wilderness foraging for food and waiting for us to find them. Brian’s dog Charley was so terribly distraught. Bummer it didn’t turn out that way. Lol.
That decision for no open casket haunts me to this day. I was afraid you kids would be traumatized, but we all needed that confirmation that she was gone.
Thank you for sharing this with me, Lauren. I really appreciate your words – you made me tear up, then laugh. Excellent use of LOL.
It’s interesting that you have had similar dreams of your mom. I get so annoyed that I spend my precious dream-time fighting with my sister about “where she really is.” Damn those gotcha dreams!
Oh how I love your writing, Sarah. Thank you for sharing in such an open, honest and humorous way. Not many people can do that as well as you.
And as far as my experience, the only open casket I can remember as an adult was my grandfather who I was closest with. He died of a heart attack so we had an open casket for him. And the funeral home did a great job. It actually looked like him – no heavy makeup or anything. Something about getting to touch his cold hand one more time definitely made me feel some closure.
But 12 years later and I still dream about him probably once a month. And in my dreams, I see him alive and treat him like he’s alive, but in my dream mind I know he’s dead and that it isn’t real. And that seems kind of a cruel thing for my mind to do. I always wake up wishing I could have just enjoyed my time with him, instead of thinking to myself, “Welp he’s dead, so you should be feeling sad.”
Thank you so much for this comment, Whitney. I’m happy to know that your grandpa looked like himself in the makeup. It’s interesting when you dream about him, your mind plays tricks on you. I find that so frustrating – my mind is really mean to me, too!
Absolutely brilliant and poignant. I know of several friends for whom this will have great meaning at the holidays. Keep up the great work, Sarah.
Thank you, Mark. I really appreciate your words – it fills my heart up knowing that it may help someone at the holidays.
Thank you, and happy holidays to you!
Your comic story is extremely eye-opening for me, and I so appreciate you sharing it truthfully including all the details that are still difficult. Your choice of topics always presents an interesting read and viewpoint even though I understand where your mom is coming from too. Thanks, as always, for your personal stories about your dear sister.
Thank you Tierney! I appreciate you reaching out. Mel cared so much about you- your friendship was very special to her. Thank you for reading my story 🙂