Dear Mourning,
First, you are not mourning alone. Physical distance does not necessarily equate to emotional distance. I have attended two funerals in the time of COVID-19; in each case, the presence of community was strong enough to break through the barrier of my screen. I imagine others have felt similarly strong connections.
Second, thank you for seeking my expertise regarding protocols for these unprecedented ceremonies. In this instance, expertise is no more than opinion, and opinion is no more than judgment.
My heart swells with excitement because, as loyal readers know, I love passing judgment.
Before I condemn, however, let me act with benevolence: There are no missteps when it comes to the immediate family hosting the Zoom funeral. They who shape and conduct the virtual ceremony get to format it any way they choose. There are no protocols for them.
For the rest of us, who follow the links and Zoom into the services? Get some paper and take a few notes. I’ve got a lot to say, and all of it comes from firsthand experience.
While it’s evident to most that a Zoom dress code applies only to half the body, it’s imperative to remember which half must dress appropriately. That would be the top half.
Here’s where I throw my beloved 89-year-old father under the bus. Recently, he and my mother tuned-in to a dear friend’s memorial from a sunny climate. Dad, forgetting that he could be seen by everyone “in attendance,” wore his bathing suit to the virtual event.
That meant he was naked from the waist up.
He’s got an engineering degree from Yale, and an MBA from Harvard. And yet, he dressed the wrong half of his body. The man can be a dolt.
By the time my sister Betsy was able to message him to put something on, it was too late. The text streams were alive with speculation about why Big Al was attending naked.
Protocol: Wear clothes. On the top half of your body. And make them appropriately respectful.
Same event, different virtual attendee. Since the guilty party is not a relative, I will allow the transgressor some anonymity. We’ll refer to the offender as Pat.
Pat’s mistake was classic. They sat at their desk, respectful and attentive, until the call of nature pulled them away. Momentarily, Pat left their screen.
No one would have paid much attention to Pat’s short absence but for the distinctive sound of flushing in the background as Pat returned to their screen.
Protocol: Keep your mic on mute. You’re there to be seen, not heard.
Virtual-shmirtual. Haul out some paper. Write a note. Mail it. Give the mourning family something to hold onto.
Sally Schwartz is a freelance columnist.
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