Ever Wondered What It’s Like Being a Funeral Director During a Pandemic?
June 4, 2021
Ever Wondered What It’s Like Being a Funeral Director During a Pandemic?
As COVID-19 went from a rumored outbreak of a mysterious pneumonia in Wuhan, China to a global pandemic, Kurt Edenbach, owner of Memorial Funeral Homes, began to think about what steps he needed to put in to place at his business.
“Once I saw the impact it was having on the different cities in Italy, I began to fully stress about what we might need to do to properly respond if that started happening here.” He says. ” We started getting information from our professional peers and leadership organizations, as well as from the Rhode Island Department of Health, which had an amazing channel of communication.” He continues.
For the funeral home, it was not just figuring out a way to keep staff safe, it was also trying to ensure the best safety precautions for families coming through the doors. “There was a lot of anxiety: would any preparation be enough? Can we handle it? ” Edenbach says.
“When the restrictions were first put in place the absolute worst part of this was telling families they couldn’t have the good bye that they normally would,” Says Courtney Sullivan, a funeral director at Memorial Funeral Home. Sullivan says she can’t say how many times she was asked why was it OK to go and be in the store with 100 people, but then people couldn’t gather to say goodbye to a loved one?
On top of the stress of telling people that they could only choose a few people to attend a ceremony in person, there was also the added stress that all the directors were split into teams to reduce the number of employees present at one time. “Everyone really pulled together to get everything done, but I always had that anxiety that something is going to be missed, that you’re going to disappoint a family that was already upset and going through enough.” Sullivan says.
To ensure that everyone could say goodbye to their loved ones, Edenbach decided to incorporate live streaming of funerals into the services offered.
“The idea of having a live webcast for a funeral has actually been around for a while, but the funeral directors who tried it early on shared that most families didn’t recognize the need, most everyone could hop in the car or on a plane and get where they needed to be.” He says.
Now, those options were all but off the table and streaming of a service became a more viable option.
“It was live, it was their family, they could hear and see each other, but you could tell the distance was still there.” Says Kurt. ” Several companies began sharing their techniques and technology, and we started assembling some equipment and training. We definitely had some hiccups and mistakes, but we also were able to help several families with successful live streams and video recordings.” He continues.
Live streaming did help alleviate some of the pain of not being able to be present at the final goodbye, but the comfort of a hug or a squeeze of the hand was still missing. However, there were other elements that the staff at Memorial Funeral Homes used to ease some of that pain.
“Gathering photos and creating a video tribute, or contributing to writing the eulogy or obituary, some activities that were done in person without too much conscious thought, that became cherished, shared activities where the memories and stories could be exchanged and documented,” Says Edenbach.
Sullivan says she has seen mixed emotions when it comes to families who waited for things to return to “normal” to have a service. While many people are relieved to be able to have a larger gathering for a loved one, “they do say it feels like this is happening to them all over again and it’s like opening an old wound,” She says. “They mention that they are glad to be able to honor their loved one the way they originally planned, but they feel that they are starting at square one in the grief department.” She continues.
Both Edenbach and Sullivan feel that live streaming and the more virtual elements of a goodbye will stay, but nothing can replace the need to gather in person.
“We are not alone in our current society in the act of sharing our grief,” Says Edenbach. “I believe that by sharing grief, it can be a lighter load, less foreign and less lonely when we can process and acknowledge the experience with others.” He continues.
Memorial Funeral Homes will continue to develop live streaming capabilities, but for now, MFH’s staff are happy that they can finally provide help and comfort in person again.
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We talk almost every Wednesday morning. It is a standing check-in, but the details of our lives rarely stay on the surface for long. An errand or a passing remark about the weather has a way of leading somewhere more private, a question worth sitting with, something one of us has been mulling about and needs the other to chime in with another perspective or a perfect sentiment. We have built up enough trust over the years to say the harder things out loud, the things you cannot say to just anyone. Last week she took a full breath, the kind I know comes from deep within, even before she told me. The pear tree had to come down. I used to be her gardener. I know that tree well. Not only that, but I know the roughness of its bark through gloved hands because I touched it so many times over the years, pruning, harvesting, collecting fallen refuse, and just resting a hand on it the way you do with something familiar. It was a good climbing tree once. It was a gnarled, opinionated old thing, the kind of tree that drops its fruit everywhere in the fall and does not apologize for it. The pears would pelt the grass, and sometimes an unlucky passerby would draw in the sweet-loving stinging insects that come for anything left to soften in the sun in late fall. I used to race those insects for the pears. I would gather as many as I could before they found them or before they found me. Homegrown pears are not perfect. They get little hard spots, the kind that make a bite less pleasant than the grocery store variety or the local orchard. It never mattered to me. Food is food, and these were never just pears. I turned them into pear butter, into pies, into fruit leather that lasted long after the season had ended. She gave them to me out of love, and I took them out of love for her. That tree held a place in her heart that went beyond the fruit. Her husband, an engineer through and through, was the one who tended the hedges and the lawn. Together they decided about the trees on their land. He has been gone nearly five years now, and his absence still finds her in small ways every day and in bigger ways that arrive unexpectedly. Losing the tree was one of those bigger ways. It brought the grief back up, sharp and unexpected, almost like waiting for that first anniversary all over again. This is the part of grief that nobody quite warns you about. You think you have done the work. You think you have found your footing after a loss, and then something ordinary happens; a tree needs to come down, a chair gets replaced, a song comes on the radio, and you are right back at the beginning of the feeling, even though the actual loss happened years ago. Grief does not stay contained to the one door it came through. It finds new ones, ones you did not know were there until they open. The tree came down last Friday. What is left now is the work of finding something new to plant, something that will one day offer its own shade on a hot afternoon. There is a short list developing for consideration. That will take a bit more time, and it should. What does not need replanting are the pictures we already have, the ones in our memories and the ones she captured herself over the years with her photographer's eye. And there is still a Wednesday morning phone call, where two people can sit with a hard feeling together and know they will be safe saying it out loud.
Tucked into the landscape of Prudence Island, a new kind of resting place is taking root—one guided not by manicured lawns and polished headstones, but by the rhythms of the natural world. Prudence Memorial Park was founded on a simple but powerful idea: that the land we return to in death can also be the land we protect for life. The 3.2-acre natural burial ground is located on the southern end of Prudence Island’s highest ridgeline and overlooks the east passage of Narragansett Bay. Prudence Island is accessible by a 30-minute ferry ride from Church Street Wharf in Bristol, Rhode Island, with the on-island ferry landing located near the intersection of Pier Road and Narragansett Avenue on Prudence Island. For more information, visit Prudence & Bay Islands Transport for scheduling and reservation information. A place shaped by purpose Prudence Memorial Park exists to serve several intertwined goals at once. It aims to shape and preserve a natural area for the benefit of the environment and offer a final resting place for not just Prudence Island residents but anyone who wants a more natural option after their passing. The scenic landscape creates a quiet space for reflection that will welcome visitors for generations to come. Rather than treating burial as separate from conservation, the park treats them as one and the same effort. What natural burial means At the heart of the park's mission is natural burial—an approach to interment that allows a body to decompose and return to the earth without interference from embalming chemicals, non-biodegradable caskets, or concrete vaults. It's a practice built on minimal environmental impact, letting the natural cycle of decomposition unfold as it always has in nature. The park supports this through services connected to the burial of human remains and cremated remains, all grounded in green burial principles. What the park offers The organization handles the practical, land-based side of natural burial: selling burial rights, allotting plots, opening and closing graves, installing memorial markers, maintaining records, and caring for the property itself. A full breakdown of these services is available in their price list . What the park does not do is act as a funeral home. It doesn't provide funeral directing or handle other after-death care needs. Here at Memorial Funeral Home, we are proud to work with Prudence Memorial Park and our community members. With us, you will be able to work with a licensed funeral director for every step of the way to ensure that all the wishes of your loved one are accomplished. We are constantly working to understand better the needs of our community, as well as what is required by our associates who offer these different types of services. For example, at Prudence Memorial Park, there are several options for internment; a body can be placed in a simple shroud that is made of natural materials, and/or be placed in a cardboard or wooden coffin. Educating yourself before you decide Because green burial is still unfamiliar territory for many, the Green Burial Council offers educational resources designed to help people understand their options clearly before deciding. Taking time with this material—whether you're planning for yourself or a loved one—can make an emotionally difficult process feel more grounded and intentional. This form can also be helpful in organizing your wishes. It is important to note that purchasing the right to be buried at Prudence Memorial Park does not mean you purchase a specific plot, although you can generally choose roughly the area of the 3.2 acres where you would like to be. The specific location is assigned sequentially so that the land can be left undisturbed after the burial to encourage the return of native vegetation. As a result, it is Prudence Memorial Park management, not the family, who determines the exact location of the plot, and this determination is not made until it is time for the burial. Burial rights can be purchased on a pre-need basis (before a burial is needed) or on an at-need basis (when a burial is needed), although it is recommended to buy burial rights on a pre-need basis because it gives people the opportunity to learn more about natural burial and make an informed decision about final disposition when they are free of the stress that comes with the death of a loved one. If two or more people choose to be buried together, Prudence Memorial Park management also determines the location of the combined lot placement, and that determination is made when the first grave is used. The purchase of burial rights requires a signed purchase agreement that includes an agreement to abide by the rules and regulations concerning the type and placement of memorial markers and the planting of trees and flowers. A certificate of ownership will be issued by Prudence Memorial Park and should be retained by the purchaser to serve as proof of purchase. The one step that matters most Whatever path you choose, one piece of advice stands above the rest: document your wishes and share them with the people who will carry them out. Even the most thoughtful, carefully researched plan is only as good as the people who know about it. Prudence Memorial Park offers the land and the framework—but the conversation, the paperwork, and the sharing of your intentions are steps only you can take.
A documentary that will make you laugh and cry.
Before this review begins, a confession: when a book becomes a film and a reader walks out of the movie disappointed, whose problem is that? The filmmakers or the readers? I have been sitting with that question since the first Harry Potter movie came out. This month I was eagerly awaiting the release of Remarkably Brights Creatures based on the Shelby Van Pelt book I adored. When Netflix announced the adaptation, I allowed myself to get excited. What arrived is a film that is not bad, exactly, but one that never settles into the unhurried, heartfelt book I remember. Tova is the stoic, lonely, and tormented protagonist who is plagued by an unresolved grief event 30 years earlier. Marcellus is her aging, intelligent, and determined giant Pacific octopus friend from the aquarium where she works. Unfortunately, the film doesn't trust the patience that the slow unfolding of the book required. It wants to get somewhere fast, and in doing so, it loses the slow build that gave the book a quiet, magical power. Computer-generated imagery is a real stumbling block for me. I want to trust what I see and that is becoming harder here in 2026. Marcellus’ digital rendering and other underwater scenes pulled me out of the moment as I was so aware that it was not “real”. I was so aware of the artificial nature that I couldn’t stay in the moment. A story that depends on a genuine emotional connection between a woman and a cephalopod cannot afford to look fake, unless it is claymation which this film is NOT. What the film does carry is grief and loss at its core. The grief has touched Tova through the loss of her husband and their son; it touches the aspiring musician, Cameron, through the recent loss of his biological mother, and Marcellus has loss in his captivity. Their bond is supposed to be the film's steadiest ground, and yet even here, something feels held at arm's length; the performances occasionally unable to close the distance. The ending wraps everything up so neatly that it undercuts the bittersweet sadness that made the book what it was. Life doesn't resolve like that. I found myself wondering whether, after a few years of things not resolving cleanly in the real world, we have started to ask our stories to do it for us. I understand that impulse, but I'm just not sure it serves this particular story. If you haven't read the novel, you may find more to enjoy here than I did. If you have, go in with tempered expectations and maybe give Marcellus the benefit of the doubt even when the screen doesn't quite do him justice.
This month we are going to try something new because there are so many myths circulating out there. We are going to begin with the most famous one: the five stages of grief by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler Ross which came out in the late 1960s. This theory was developed after conducting qualitative research interviews of 200 terminally ill older adults. I want to point out, loud and clear, this study was completed with people approaching the end of life, not the people who lived through the death of a significant person in their lives. This model is well known to most people and for those who are not familiar with it, the stages are sequential emotions/reactions. The stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Many people believe that this is like a checklist that follows a linear timeline. This means denial is the beginning of the process of grief and you are done once you complete all five. What we know now in 2026 is that is NOT how grief works. These five emotional reactions are just a few of the things a person can feel after a death of someone in their life. Not every feeling listed is felt by everyone and certainly not in a specific order. Since that study was released nearly 60 years ago, researchers and grief practitioners — the people who study loss and the people who show up trained to support the grieving — have raised serious questions about it. The main critiques? The stages aren't defined clearly enough to actually help anyone supporting a grieving person, and the study never accounted for how personality or culture shapes the way someone experiences loss. The research world has moved on and so has our understanding. In the decades since, far better models have emerged, ones that actually reflect how real people experience loss. That said we cannot dismiss her contribution entirely. Kubler Ross did something very few had done before, she put a national spotlight on grief. For that the field of grief owes her a debt of gratitude. If you take nothing else away from this article, I hope you understand there is no right or wrong way to do grief and there is no timeline.
Grief doesn't follow a schedule. It doesn't end after the first year, and it certainly doesn't come with instructions. On Thursday, June 18, from 12:30 to 2:30 PM, Middletown Public Library is hosting a free class designed to explore those quieter, often invisible dimensions of grief. The session, titled Grief in the Real World: People, Identity & the Long Haul, will take a candid and compassionate look at what grief really looks and feels like beyond the early stages. The session will be facilitated by Memorial Funeral Home's Director of Community Relations, Kim Shute. Topics will include how to respond when others say the wrong thing — something many grieving people encounter more than once — and how loss can quietly reshape your sense of who you are. It will also address why grief can feel different, or even more intense, as time passes, a phenomenon that often catches people off guard. The goal is to offer a supportive, approachable conversation with practical tools that attendees can carry into daily life. Sharing is entirely optional — there is no pressure to speak. The event is open to everyone, and no registration is required. Everyone is welcome. When Thursday, June 18 12:30 – 2:30 PM Where Middletown Public Library Free & open to all
May 14: New & Innovative burial options There's a reason most of us avoid talking about death. It feels morbid, premature, or simply something that we'd rather not think about. But a new lecture series at Island Cemetery in Newport is making a gentle, practical case that these conversations — held early, held openly — are among the most meaningful we can have. Death and Dying is an evening series of talks that brings together experts and community members inside the historic Belmont Chapel at Island Cemetery for evenings that are all about intention. Memorial Funeral Home's Kurt Edenbach will be leading a conversation on May 14th in which he will address a question more people are asking: are there alternatives to traditional burial and cremation? The answer, increasingly, is yes — and the options have grown significantly in recent years, shaped by environmental concerns, personal values, and new technology. From green burials and conservation cemeteries to aquamation, human composting, and other emerging methods, the landscape of end-of-life choices is expanding in ways many people haven't yet heard about. This lecture offers a grounded, accessible look at what's available, what's legal, and what might align with your own wishes — or those of someone you're helping plan for. To reserve your spot, click on the link here .
I just love it when I pick up a random book and it transports me to places, I never could have imagined. Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson is one of those rare finds. I was pulled in from page one by the story of a poor girl trying her luck as a scholarship recipient at a private boarding school for the ultra-elite, set against the backdrop of down-home Tennessee. The book vacillates between current day and flashbacks from her earlier life. Our narrator and main character, 28-year-old Lillian Breaker, is, quite honestly, a bit of a mess. She is living in the attic of her self-absorbed mother’s house, and her life feels stagnant at best. Beneath the humor, this is a story that touches on childhood neglect and the sharp divides of income and social status. We learn about Lillian’s complicated relationship with Madison, her former boarding school roommate who reappears with a mysterious and highly confidential job offer. What unfolds is a story about misfits that made me laugh out loud one moment and feel unexpectedly emotional the next. I struggled at times with the dynamic between Madison and Lillian. Given their history, I found myself questioning why they remained connected at all. Yet many of us are guilty of staying in relationships that do not reward us with reciprocity. Still, as the story unfolds, witnessing the trust develop under such unusual and often untenable circumstances helps to restore a bit of faith in human connection. There is a strange magic to this book. It leans into the weirdness in a way that is both disarming and oddly comforting. As Lillian herself suggests, I hope this story “hypnotizes you with weirdness” as you make your way through it. Let us know if you decide to give it a read or a listen, and what you think.
It's likely that you've never heard of it before, but it is the process of naturally breaking down the body into soil.
A case of mistaken identity turns into a sense of security for an octogenarian.
