Should I have looked at my dead son?

May 6, 2008 10:44 PM

My son died of an overdose at the age of 25. I chose not to view his body. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted my last remberances of him to be while he was alive. Now, I'm wondering if I did the right thing. Has anyone else had this experience? Regret for not looking at him one last time?
posted by wv kay in ga to Human Relations (49 answers total)

All of my direct blood relatives have died (brother, father, all grandparents, great-aunts and -uncles, stepfather), other than my mother and her sister, over the decades. I did not view the body of a single one of them. I am very glad that I did not do so, and would not have done so if the offers to do so had been extended once I reached adulthood.

I personally do not understand the impulse, although I do understand that many people seem to feel it.
posted by stavrosthewonderchicken at 10:55 PM on May 6, 2008 [2 favorites]

I think you did the right thing.
posted by weapons-grade pandemonium at 10:55 PM on May 6, 2008 [2 favorites]

I have viewed the bodies of loved ones and it was disturbing. They looked different, in a very unpleasant way.

Should I ever have to face the utter horror of one of my kids dying, I will think very long and hard about whether I want my last memory to be of them looking the way the others did.
posted by TheManChild2000 at 11:06 PM on May 6, 2008

My grandfather died a few years ago, and I chose not to go look at the body. I don't regret it much. He's not going to care either way anyways, and no one in my family objected, so there wasn't any social obligation to go up and look. I stayed in my seat, mostly because I was in my early teens and weirded out by the whole thing. Even with that flimsy reason, I have no regrets.

Besides, even if you should have looked, the opportunity has passed. Why waste emotional energy over something that can't be changed?

Better to enjoy the memories you have of him when he was alive.
posted by JDHarper at 11:08 PM on May 6, 2008 [2 favorites]

Whatever you would or could have done, you'll have found something to regret. You did what you had to do at the time, and so that was the right thing to do.

A final viewing can bring some people extra closure, but for some that final viewing is too much too soon. FWIW, I had the same option with a close relative, and I chose not to take it. Although I've sometimes regretted my decision, eight years later I don't believe I did a bad or a self-damaging thing.
posted by seanyboy at 11:08 PM on May 6, 2008

I saw my grandpa after he had died (I was there when he died), and it was just surreal. It certainly didn't make things easier or give me some sense of closure. More than anything, it's frustrating. You want to hug the person or comfort them or do something, but the person is cold to the touch and beyond your help.

I don't think there is any solution that is going to feel "right"... death just always seems like a raw deal. If I had the chance to view a loved one's body in the future, I would most likely avoid it.

Sorry about your son.
posted by kosmonaut at 11:08 PM on May 6, 2008 [1 favorite]

My dad died the day after my last law school final. My brother and I didn't go take a look at the body at the mortuary, though we were offered the opportunity. I haven't regretted it: if it wasn't him, and he's off in some Caribbean clime sipping pina coladas, more power to him. And if it was, well, I'm no worse off for remembering him when he was talking about how much fun he was having crewing for the local Wet Wednesdays sailing races, than when he was cold on a slab after drowning in a squall. So, our situations are reversed (father & child) but not our motivations. Either way sucks, but who's to say which is worse?

Condolences for your son's death. At 25, he should have known better. It's not your fault.
posted by spacewrench at 11:11 PM on May 6, 2008

You can't fault yourself for doing what you thought best at the time. Conversely, you might have chosen to view the body, and now regret it.

Maybe getting out the old photos and seeing the bright side of him again will help you remember why it was important that you remember him that way.
posted by whatisish at 11:13 PM on May 6, 2008 [4 favorites]

Obviously, it's different, monumentally different, when its your child, and obviously, there's no right choice or wrong choice. That said, I chose not to see either my great-grandmother (for whom I'm named and to whom I was very, very close) or my father (an alcoholic/addict with whom I had a very complicated relationship) after they died, and have never regretted it. Honestly, I'm thankful.

Particularly in regards to my grandmother, it's very comforting to me that all my memories of her are of her alive. I dream of her from time to time, and she is still herself, alive and funny and cranky and simply her with no altered image of her abandoned body getting in the way.

With my father, I saw him in a near-coma state just before he died (after having not spoken to him for more than two years) and that was distressing enough. It wasn't him, either the parts I loved or hated, but the image of his body with most of him gone was burned behind my eyelids for a very long time. I can't imagine how much worse it would have been if I'd seen it after it was all over, so from my perspective, I think I would have made the same choice you did.
posted by mostlymartha at 11:18 PM on May 6, 2008

My condolences. I understand your decision. When a family member died last year, I also declined to view the body. This is because I know people who have gone on to have obsessive thoughts about how the person looked in death. I wanted my last memories to be good ones. I don't think viewing the person's body brings closure for everyone.
posted by acoutu at 11:20 PM on May 6, 2008

Response by poster: Thank you all so much. I know dealing with death is so personal for each and every one of us. There's part of me that knows I did the right thing, but another part of me that wonders if I was just in denial. Either way, thank you all for your kind perspectives.
posted by wv kay in ga at 11:23 PM on May 6, 2008

I think you did the right thing, too. You might think it'd be a chance to look at him "one last time," but the few bodies I've seen after the person died have looked so different from the way the person really looked. The spirit animating them is what makes it seem like "them." I don't think it would have felt like seeing him again; I think it would have felt like seeing something else. Some people do want to see that, and others don't.

I do think seeing the body makes that the main memory of the person. I saw a photo of my grandmother's body after she died, and that's the way I imagine her when I think of her now. It has definitely stuck in my mind. Comparing the way I remember that grandmother with the way I remember another (great)grandmother, I think you made the right decision. The few people I know who have had to make this decision made the same decision you did.

Like whatisish said, you can't second guess how you acted in a situation as hard as that. You just couldn't bring yourself to see him... So you didn't. There's no way to do it "right," and that's the way you did it, and you made that decision for a good reason, so there's no need to worry about it now. I'm really sorry for your loss of your son.
posted by salvia at 11:24 PM on May 6, 2008

I think the viewing serves a few different purposes. For some it is a last goodbye. For others an opportunity to reminisce. Sometimes it helps cement that the person is gone, so that we do not cling to the memory in an unhealthy way. But all these are a means to an end: for the survivors to carry on living life as best they can. We all achieve that in different ways. If your life is going in the right direction overall, then there's no need to second guess the path you chose.
posted by randomstriker at 11:24 PM on May 6, 2008

We had a viewing at my grandmother's funeral. It was sad and awkward, because we had to look at the body and act appropriately sad, but her body didn't look like her. It looked like an inert wax replica of her. They had smoothed out the laugh lines and wrinkles and weird skin blotches and so on that previously made her look like herself, and put on strange makeup, etc. I'm extremely sentimental about things like this, so I'm normally the kind of person who would say "oh of course, we have to have a viewing". But given that experience I will not be arranging viewings at other family funerals. It was just too anti-climactic and strange; I was mourning her, but seeing her body transformed like this was like mourning for a mannequin. I knew her in life, and those living memories are what's important to me when I think about her.
posted by LobsterMitten at 11:52 PM on May 6, 2008 [1 favorite]

I'm so sorry for what you've gone through.

Seeing my father was mostly surreal. He was just so obviously not in there, if that makes sense. It was a gory death, so sometimes the image still pops into my mind unbidden. Looking back, I realize it didn't make anything easier, but I also can't definitively say I wish I'd made a different decision.

Be sure to take care of yourself!
posted by bunji at 12:00 AM on May 7, 2008

First and foremost, I'm sorry for your loss...

I've read some interesting articles on how we shield ourselves from death, and it's unhealthy for us because we can't face reality, etc etc...

The reason I read these articles is that one of my best friends was killed in an accident while serving in the US Army... he had an open casket funeral despite significant damage to his face/head... Oh sure, he was "made up" and such, but it was still... just... horrifying...

The experience was shocking to me, and I can't say I'm glad I went through it... As bunji notes -- it definitely didn't make anything better for me... but like bunji I also can't say I'd definitely go back and avoid looking at him...

I think it's a personal thing for everyone, and I understand what the various psychology/sociology articles are saying about how we spend our entire lives hiding from the reality of death and how that might be a bad thing... However, I really can't say that seeing what I saw was a "good thing"... it wasn't... it didn't help me grieve.. it didn't help me let go.. it gave me nothing, at least related to my friend, that I consider valuable.

The only thing I got from it, perhaps, was the broader sociological experience of actually seeing someone who had passed on... it was my first open casket funeral....
posted by twiggy at 12:04 AM on May 7, 2008

It is different for everyone. When my mother died a few years ago, the hospital offered me the chance to come in and see her one last time. I did. For me, it was the right decision. For the rest of my siblings, it wasn't what they wanted to do. It's possibly because they saw her a few hours before she died, and she was happy, talkative, and feeling OK. When I saw her after they had left, she was in absolute horrific pain, fighting for each gasp of air. She turned that fast. Seeing her after she had passed was partially closure, but also an assurance to me that she was no longer suffering. The last 10 years of her life had been very harsh, and she was finally at peace.

You made the right decision at the time. While it's easy to second guess yourself, you have to remember why you decided the way you did. The time immediately after a loved one passes is painful and very confusing, and you need to make the choices that help you through that time. Again, it's different for everyone. Don't kick yourself, remember the good times, and think about doing something that would make him happy. (Such as donating to one of his causes, or something like that.)
posted by azpenguin at 12:48 AM on May 7, 2008

My grandmother's death a couple of years ago was my first experience with funerals. And that first look at her body at the visitation was probably the worst, most surreal part. That's when it REALLY hit me that she was dead, like I needed proof or something ... seeing what looked like her and yet didn't.

For what it's worth: I didn't see her during the worst of her illness; my mom kept me posted by phone but told me not to return home to help, and to remember Grandma as she was the last time I saw her. And I'll always be grateful for that.
posted by Ponsonby Britt at 1:00 AM on May 7, 2008

I'm sorry about your son.

When my father died of liver disease, I didn't view the body. It was shocking enough when I saw him 8 months earlier, clearly sick, and more so when I saw him when he first went in to the hospital.

I sometimes wonder if I should have looked, but I did what I had to do at a difficult time. I think I understand why other people need to, and I felt some satisfaction later when I transfered his ashes to be burried and saw the bits of spongy bone that had been part of him.
posted by Good Brain at 1:20 AM on May 7, 2008

I chose not to view my father's body when he died a couple of years ago. I have no regrets, although I was with him when they turned off the equipment keeping him alive following the failure of a serious operation (ie we had time to prepare for the possibility that he might not make it through). I honestly don't know how I would have felt if it were a sudden or unexpected death.
posted by bifter at 1:54 AM on May 7, 2008

I had to identify my father's body after his death. I wish I hadn't.
posted by procrastination at 4:28 AM on May 7, 2008

i watched my grandparents die and viewed their bodies, but that's a completely different relationship. i was actually glad to be there with them when they died, but i would have been perfectly happy not to see them in their caskets.

i think you did the right thing, which was to make the choice that allowed you to cope with the situation as best you could. i think right now you might not be regretting seeing his body so much as missing him like crazy and groping for anything you might have done to have more time with him. which is totally understandable.

for what it's worth, jews have a tradition of closed caskets all the time, and in fact family are not allowed to view the dead because it's so traumatic (well, it dates back to dead bodies being considered "unclean" but the theory has changed with the times). the idea is that it preserves exactly that instinct you had--so that the relatives remember their loved one alive, not dead.

a grief counselor might help you a lot, by the way. don't be afraid to seek one out. i'm so sorry for your loss.
posted by thinkingwoman at 4:34 AM on May 7, 2008

I think you made the right decision.
posted by jennyjenny at 5:03 AM on May 7, 2008

You have to trust your instincts at the time. When I was 10, my 15 year old brother died in a car accident. I did not view see him in the hospital. I refused to attend the funeral. I think, even at the time, I realized he was gone and seeing a body in a box wasn't going to do too much for me.

One might think that, all these years later, I might regret that decision. But, I really don't. After all, my final, lasting memory is him in a chair with a great, goofy grin. Much better that way, even 20 years on.
posted by absalom at 5:16 AM on May 7, 2008

I'm very sorry about your loss.

My best friend died of a drug overdose at 28, and I was the one who found his body. His parents chose to have an open casket funeral, and although one might think that it would be better to have a nicer last view of him, I can't say that it was. His hair was all wrong, he smelled like formaldehyde, and you could see makeup on his face.

For me the memory of a person and all the things they've contributed to your life are far more important than their physical body.
posted by vodkaboots at 5:29 AM on May 7, 2008

You did the right thing. You want to remember his life, not his death. You will always treasure the life he led, and your chance to take part in it.
posted by Pants! at 5:39 AM on May 7, 2008

I did not view my grandmother, although my aunts tried to force me. I do not regret it. I have no memory, no concept, nothing, of what she looked like in that coffin, and that's fine by me, since I DO remember her making fried chicken and beans and cornbread while she was alive, all the crazy stuff she did, everything - I have and remember everything but that awful, not-her person that was in the box at the end. For my part, I think you did the right thing.
posted by Medieval Maven at 5:47 AM on May 7, 2008

Sorry about the loss of your son.

Relatedly my brother was killed in his twenties (got hit by a car as he walked down a highway at night).

I ID'd him at the morgue and kept my mom from seeing him. After over twenty years, I still think that was the best decision for her.

Your memories, photos, and videos are the best way to remember your son.

Even though I did see my deceased brother it is my memories of our times
together that come to mind when I think of him.

I don't know if what you did is the right thing. It's just what you did. And it's OK.
posted by rmmcclay at 5:53 AM on May 7, 2008

I don't know if what you did is the right thing. It's just what you did. And it's OK.
posted by rmmcclay at 8:53 AM on May 7
posted by nnk at 6:15 AM on May 7, 2008

I have this belief that the things we do or say during moments of incredible grief (and, indeed, shock) are immune from regret later. We can't possibly make the right decision every time when there are so many decisions to be made and constantly going back over them in your mind doesn't help anyone or anything. What does help is having immunity from guilt over these things now.

I did not view the body and, immunity aside, am glad with this choice. I'm truly sorry for your loss.
posted by meerkatty at 7:14 AM on May 7, 2008 [1 favorite]

There really is no right or wrong here, as rmmcclay said, it's what you did and it's ok. I mean, maybe for some people it could provide extra closure, but in my experience, a viewing doesn't really provide much more closure than any other memorial service. This is no grave offense to your son, and if you are still looking for closure, I would be willing to bet that you would still be looking for closure if you had viewed the body.

It's just a shitty, hard, horrible situation when someone we love dies, especially when it's sudden and at such a young age. I feel like no matter what the circumstance is, we wonder what we could have done differently to make it feel less off. And I just don't think there is any ritual or act or tradition that makes it feel less off to lose someone...the only thing that really helps is time. You will find ways to get the closure you need as time goes by, and I hope you learn to accept that you did what you felt you needed to do at the time, which is absolutely fine.
posted by tastybrains at 7:21 AM on May 7, 2008

I just want to support what the others have said about their loved ones "not being there." So to speak. Every visitation of my grandparents was open casket and every time, I have left with the feeling that I just looked at a "husk" of the person I knew and loved so very much. I gained nothing from seeing them in their coffin, I had already cried my tears and said my goodbyes. My parents as a result have decided they don't want an open casket funeral/visitation and I certainly wouldn't want one for myself, either.

You should reflect happily that the best image of your son is the one you have now and do not retain any regrets to the contrary. I am sorry for your loss.
posted by Atreides at 7:44 AM on May 7, 2008

The morticians didn't do a very good job with my father, but I still found comfort in the viewing, as well as being there for his death. That might not be necessary for you.

I can also say that events take on crazy levels of significance during times of grief. During my dad's funeral, all these insane friends and relatives came out of the woodwork volunteering customs and traditions that I suspected they were making up on the spot. Someone suggested that touching the casket would be bad luck, and that cartwheeled my mother into not allowing my brother and I to bear his coffin. At the time, I was LIVID, and frankly behaved pretty poorly in conveying my displeasure with the situation. I thought the world was ending and honestly believed I would never speak to my mother ever again.

That was...four years ago. Today, I really only have fond memories of my father and wish he could meet my son, who was born just last week. I can't imagine your pain, but you've got things and people to take care of, and all of them deserve more time and energy than second guessing yourself.
posted by NoRelationToLea at 7:44 AM on May 7, 2008

My husband died of a heroin overdose when he was 25. His father and I saw his body at the morgue for the ID process.

While the pictures, movies, and memories I leave me with happy images I will always have that final, final picture of the him/ but not really him lying in the morgue. I don't regret it, necessarily, but, for a while, that viewing overpowered everything.

I will say this: seeing his body did not feel like a last goodbye or one last look. It felt odd, traumatizing, and hyper-real, but there was not a moment where I felt that there was any presence to say goodbye to or look upon. It would have felt like saying goodbye to a sweater or a shoe, only, obviously, much stranger.

The last goodbyes came when we had our beautiful memorial service for him and when we later camped in the Utah wilderness and scattered his ashes in a storm.
posted by InstantSanitizer at 7:52 AM on May 7, 2008

I'm very sorry about your son.

My sister-like cousin died when we were both in our early 20s. I thought I was fine until I approached her open casket and saw this young woman hideously plastered with awkwardly applied orange-tinted makeup and other misguided attempts to fix her up too awful to discuss even now. The image was seared into my retinas and for months later I would see that horrible orange lipliner at unexpected moments. I was just as traumatized by having this last image of her as I was by her actual death. I never think of her now without also seeing that image. So I absolutely think you did the right thing.

Also, you know, you did what felt right at the time. You wouldn't feel any better today if you had done what felt *wrong* at the time. It's natural for your mind to keep going over and over everything, testing out the alternatives, but do your best to be kind to yourself.
posted by HotToddy at 8:54 AM on May 7, 2008

My grandfather died several years ago. My grandmother died last year. I was incredibly close to both of them. I was not allowed to go to my grandfather's funeral (I was 11, not a tiny child), in large part because my parents did not want me to see his body. For my grandmother's funeral, I was an adult, and I had to participate because I needed to be there to support my mom. It was my first funeral ever. It was my first viewing ever. Although I will always have other, happier memories of my grandmother, I will also never, ever be able to erase the image of her in the casket, and oh, how I wish I could.

I think you did the right thing.
posted by somanyamys at 9:03 AM on May 7, 2008

And as soon as I posted this, I realized that most of us are posting intensely personal anecdotes, and basing our answers on whether our experiences agree with yours, when really, grief is such a blind and bewildering process, that all you can do is the best you can do for yourself at any given moment. And so really, that makes HotToddy's answer the best so far:

Also, you know, you did what felt right at the time. You wouldn't feel any better today if you had done what felt *wrong* at the time. It's natural for your mind to keep going over and over everything, testing out the alternatives, but do your best to be kind to yourself.
posted by somanyamys at 9:07 AM on May 7, 2008

Response by poster: Thank you all again. All of the personal stories and sentiments really helped alot.
posted by wv kay in ga at 9:46 AM on May 7, 2008

My eight month old daughter died of SIDS almost eight months ago (feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago). She was at daycare at the time, and I had received a call from the ambulance company that she'd fallen ill and that they were taking her to a nearby hospital.

My wife and I carpool to work, from what I gathered on the phone she was with them as it was just about the time for her to pick our daughter up, so I got a co-worker to drive me to the hospital.

At this point I was totally unaware of what was going on (the phone conversation with the person from EMS made the least sense of any phone call I'd ever received). I wandered into the emergency room, mentioned I was the father and watched all of their faces fall. They led me back to the little room where they were caring for her and I knew that she was gone.

My wife wasn't allowed to travel with the ambulance and I work closer to the hospital than she does, so I was there, all alone, floored with grief, the world swirling around me, watching far too many people work on my lifeless daughter.

The ensuing period of time flashes back to me in chaotic fits, my wife arrived eventually, more chaos. Eventually, after we'd been questioned by the police, we were asked if we'd like to see her before we left. We both did, so they led us back into that little room and let us sit there for a moment with her to say goodbye.

Her face staring up into the ceiling haunts me, I think it always will. I can still feel the coolness of her forehead as it touched my lips, I think I always will.

I can't say whether or not you should have seen your son, you obviously have more memories of him than I do of my daughter. I can say that I do not regret seeing her that day, that I think of it often, and--good or bad--that it will always be with me.
posted by togdon at 9:48 AM on May 7, 2008 [2 favorites]

One of my mom's good friends/neighbors died a few months before my father died (both of cancer). There was a viewing for my mother's friend, and it was the first time I'd had the option to view a body. I had always thought the practice was grotesque and disturbing, but I accompanied my mother to the casket, because she wanted to see her friend. I was unsettled and uncomfortable, and found myself focusing more on what was wrong with the appearance of the body--the outward made-up-ness and the inward absolute stillness. That memory is still clear as day today, a year later, even though I lived next to this woman for almost 20 years.

I was with my father in his hospice bed when he died, and my mom and I both stayed there until the hospice workers arrived to take him to the funeral home. When I got out of the bed, I did not look back. Not for one final look while he lay there alone, not while he was shifted off the bed and onto the. . .well, onto whatever they used to carry him out of the house. My mom, her friend and her sister did watch. I didn't want to see that or remember that at all, and I know that was the right decision. I would have given anything to see my dad again, but only as I ever knew him: in life. Even as I sat with him in bed after he died, I did not much look at his face--just his large, strong hands and arms and his calloused feet. Things that I could trust to not have changed much.

Like a poster above said, we are told it is an unnatural conceit of the Western world that we shield ourselves from death--I have considered and re-considered this idea, and have not been able to come up with a way that viewing a body post-death would be anything but traumatizing. Maybe I am selfish with my memories, but that is my right.

I am so, so sorry for your loss.
posted by tyrantkitty at 10:46 AM on May 7, 2008

I am so sorry about your son.

I chose not to see my father's body and I'm glad I made that decision. The memories I have of the pain he went through are enough to haunt me for the rest of my life without adding the trauma of having seen his body, which was really just a shell of him anyway.

Be good to yourself. Remember the good times, his smile, his laugh.
posted by triggerfinger at 11:26 AM on May 7, 2008

When my 25 year old cousin was killed by a drunk driver, my aunt did not see his body. She lived out of state and when she arrived at the hospital, I believe the doctor recommended against it. I know my aunt has gone back and forth over this decision but ultimately, she says she found some peace in talking with the attending doctor instead. I don't know how long ago your son passed away, or if you are able to contact the doctor, but perhaps that is one way you can find some peace with your decision.

However, as other posters have said, please believe that you made the best decision you could anyway. When my grandfather passed away, we had an open casket service for him. I was a pall bearer, too. Seeing him didn't really do anything for me either way, though I felt a very sick, visceral reaction at first. It's not how I remember him and I agree that it certainly didn't feel like he was "there" anymore.

My sincere condolences for the loss of your child. Thank you for asking this question.
posted by juliplease at 11:27 AM on May 7, 2008

I regret having seen my grandmother's body at the funeral. I can't get the picture out of my head of the red lipstick they used, when she had always worn her makeup very understated. I wish I didn't have that image of her in my head.
posted by happyturtle at 12:07 PM on May 7, 2008

I've regretted it. When my cousin died, I had an opportunity to see him and chose not to, because I wanted to give his mom some space. I didn't take into consideration my own grieving. I think it made it harder for me to achieve closure, because a part of me didn't believe he had really died.
posted by kingjoeshmoe at 12:14 PM on May 7, 2008

King Ramses (in Egypt) believed that souls are immortal as long as their names and deeds are the lips of the people. I like this thought. No, wait, I love this thought.

We don't exist as people through our husks, which dry and wither away like cornstalks in the August sun. We exist as people through our words, our deeds, and our relationships with other people.

Memory gives us the blessing of allowing us to remember on our terms---the important terms; the times of beauty and of utter sadness that give us the points and counterpoints that supply us with vitality.

When you look at someone you love, you look into them. You look into that wholeness of their soul and their everything. When you look at someone who's gone, you look at them. There's nothing to see.

Keep his name on your lips and his memory alive in your stories, keep his pictures on your mantle and always be proud of the opportunities you had. Don't linger on last opportunity you had to look at him. Linger on touch and smell and togetherness.
posted by TomMelee at 2:34 PM on May 7, 2008 [2 favorites]

Response by poster: I went back to read all the responses again, for comfort and maybe to "mark as best answer". I couldn't pick one. All were heartfelt, sincere, and loving. The human experience has so many commonalities. It gives me hope for all humanity, something I needed right now.
posted by wv kay in ga at 2:51 PM on May 7, 2008

My best friend died unexpectedly at a young age. When I went to her funeral service, I was unprepared for the experience. I think it's different when you're viewing a body of someone at a funeral you did not know really well (i.e. a co-worker or a neighbor), but this was my best friend. I remember looking at her and thinking, "Oh, man, if Cathy saw the make-up job they did on her, she'd just DIE." The irony sticks with me still. Also, I could still see the bruising of her body from the many injections and procedures they did when they were trying to save her life in the ER.

I felt I had to touch her to make this whole surreal experience a reality, and I will never, ever forget the coldness of her skin. I wanted to jump into the casket and hold her to warm her up. I really wished I had never seen her that way. Even though the majority of my memories of her are good ones, I still shudder when I think of my last image of her.

I'm sorry for your loss. Thank you for allowing me and others to share our own experiences.
posted by HeyAllie at 3:41 PM on May 7, 2008

I've never viewed the corpses of anybody I've known who died (relatives, of old age; friends of misadventure or suicide) and regret nothing. I'm actually wary that my final and perhaps strongest (?) memories of them would be of a cold, pallid, artificially made-up slab of matter, rather than of the people I knew them as.

Each to their own, though.

And sorry about your loss. I've had a few friends who went that way, and they were 'only' friends; I can hardly imagine what it's like for a parent.
posted by UbuRoivas at 6:37 PM on May 7, 2008

i made a similar decision to yours. i don't think there's any right answer and agree with all who said that there will be regrets either way. i'm sorry for your loss.
posted by Soulbee at 8:39 AM on May 9, 2008