Need for farewell rituals
According to the initiators, initiatives such as a funeral café are a response to what they call the hyper-individualistic society that wants to handle grieving as quickly and as individually as possible.
“People who are grieving often see their grief as a problem that they do not want to burden those around them, and for which treatment is required,” says grief counselor and psychologist Ihsan Badli. In her practice in Brussels she guides surviving relatives who get stuck in their grieving process or the stress reactions to it. “As a result, we feel more comfortable speaking to a therapist or psychologist than to our own family and friends. But if someone receives enough closeness and support from those around them, a therapist or psychologist is not always necessary,” says Badli. “Moreover, for me, grief is not a clinical problem, but rather a very natural reaction to an experience of loss.”
What can help with this? Introduce new farewell rituals. When choreographer Catalina Insignares lost several family members in 2017, she was not in Colombia and therefore could not participate in the social, collective gestures and prayers to commemorate the dead. That got her thinking.
“Not only in the West, but also in Westernized societies, we no longer have contact with the deceased: we pay someone strange to take care of the body of a loved one and after the funeral the remains disappear as quickly as possible,” she says. “Many don’t even say hello anymore, because the image would be too traumatic. Death disappears from view, even though it is part of life. That indicates a total disconnect with the phenomenon.”
This individualistic and distant approach to life after death is often at odds with how other cultures deal with it – this is also what the festival wants to make clear, which was inspired by Eastern and Southern influences. “In some countries it is a tradition within the community to visit the grave weekly after a death. After so many days, a commemoration follows, where the relatives come together to eat and drink,” says Badli. She summarizes that philosophy as: celebrate together, mourn together.
The happiness culture
Such traditions are much less common in the West. A missed opportunity, because they offer healthy ways to deal with a fundamental sadness, says Badli. “Traditions and rituals provide a safe framework within which you know: now I can and now I am allowed to be sad. In combination with the so-called happinessculture, which focuses on the performance of the individual, sadness, pain and loss feel very uncomfortable for many – uncomfortable and unwanted.”
But what does that look like in practice: new rituals? What Insignares said he learned was to be able to hear and communicate with subtle messages from the dead.
“The relationship with our deceased loved ones may change, but we can still listen to their signs,” says Insignares. To be clear, this is not about very practical signals, but rather about experiencing feelings by coming together to dedicate songs to the deceased, by telling their stories, or by finding meaning in subtle signals throughout the day. “Suppose you have to make a decision, and you notice something that reminds you of your deceased grandmother, you can interpret that signal as her response,” she says. “It’s a different way of seeing death: not as something linear, with a clear beginning and end point, but as something circular.”
The Need for Farewell Rituals: A Cheeky Examination
So, there’s a growing phenomenon out there — the “funeral café.” And no, it’s not a hipster joint serving espressos and macabre latte art that would make Edgar Allan Poe proud. Instead, it’s quite a serious response to our hyper-individualistic society where we treat grief like an annoying hangnail: something to fix quickly and quietly without burdening anyone else. I mean, what could be more comforting than a café where you can sip a chai latte while discussing your dead relatives? Talk about a pick-me-up!
Grief counselor Ihsan Badli hits the nail on the head when she says people often think their grief is a problem that needs treatment — something like a bad haircut you can’t wait to fix. But guess what? Grief isn’t a clinical issue; it’s just us being human. Ideally, we should feel comfortable expressing our loss to friends and family rather than heading straight to a therapist as if we’re booking a spa day. Yet here we are — we’d rather bare our souls to a stranger with a degree and a notepad than risk an awkward moment with Aunt Mabel.
But let’s steer this merry ship back to the topic of rituals. Our dear friend Catalina Insignares — and let me tell you, she has a name that sounds like a dancer at Studio 54 — got the ball rolling on new farewell rituals after she lost several family members in 2017. She realized that, in our fast-paced lives, we’ve paid someone (likely in ill-fitting black pants) to dispose of our loved ones, all while we briskly move on to the next task at hand, as if mourning were a to-do list item. Catalina rightly points out that death has become inconveniently invisible. We don’t say goodbye, we just forget to say hello to it!
Let’s compare this to cultures that celebrate together, mourn together, and feast on nachos while remembering the dear departed — yes, I said nachos; don’t judge. Tradition provides a structure where sadness is scheduled to match your Spotify playlist. Badli emphasizes that in Western societies, such communal practices are less frequent. We’re told to chase happiness like it’s the last bus home, while grief is shunted to the shadows like a third wheel on a first date. Sadness becomes uncomfortable, unwanted — a bit like that uncle who thinks he’s a comedian.
So, what do these new rituals look like? Well, Insignares brings her dance background into the picture. Forget standard funerals; we could dance around the memory of our loved ones like we’re at a particularly emotional wedding. She speaks about communicating with subtle messages from the dead — not like some supernatural hotline, but rather through gatherings where we sing songs, share stories, and look for signs from our dearly departed. The idea is that death shouldn’t be a strict, linear experience but rather something circular, like a never-ending family reunion full of love, tears, and, dare I say, nachos.
So here’s the bottom line. We live in an age of the “happiness culture,” where sadness feels like a social faux pas. Let’s embrace the idea of rituals that foster community and connection, making it okay to put on our best crying faces and share the load. Who knows, perhaps with a little creativity, we can turn our mourning into a joyous celebration of life. After all, if we can’t laugh at our own mortality, what’s the point?
According to the initiators, initiatives such as a funeral café are a response to what they call the hyper-individualistic society that wants to handle grieving as quickly and as individually as possible. “People who are grieving often see their grief as a problem that they do not want to burden those around them, and for which treatment is required,” says grief counselor and psychologist Ihsan Badli.
In her Brussels practice, she guides surviving relatives who get stuck in their grieving process or the stress reactions to it. “As a result, we feel more comfortable speaking to a therapist or psychologist than to our own family and friends. But if someone receives enough closeness and support from those around them, a therapist or psychologist is not always necessary,” emphasizes Badli. “Moreover, for me, grief is not a clinical problem, but rather a very natural reaction to an experience of loss.”
When choreographer Catalina Insignares lost several family members in 2017, she was not in Colombia and therefore could not participate in the social, collective gestures and prayers to commemorate the dead. That experience got her thinking profoundly about how we deal with loss. “Not only in the West, but also in Westernized societies, we no longer have contact with the deceased: we pay someone strange to take care of the body of a loved one and after the funeral the remains disappear as quickly as possible,” she reflects. “Many don’t even say goodbye anymore, because the image would be too traumatic. Death disappears from view, even though it is part of life. That indicates a total disconnect with the phenomenon.”
This individualistic and distant approach to life after death often clashes with more communal practices found in other cultures, a contrast the festival aims to highlight, inspired by Eastern and Southern influences. “In some countries, it is a tradition within the community to visit the grave weekly after a death. After so many days, a commemoration follows, where the relatives come together to eat and drink,” explains Badli. She summarizes that philosophy succinctly: celebrate together, mourn together.
Such traditions are alarmingly uncommon in the West, representing a missed opportunity to embrace healthy ways to deal with fundamental sadness, asserts Badli. “Traditions and rituals provide a safe framework within which you know: now I can and now I am allowed to be sad. In combination with the so-called happiness culture, which focuses on the performance of the individual, sadness, pain, and loss feel very uncomfortable for many – uncomfortable and unwanted.”
What Insignares shared was her journey into hearing and communicating with subtle messages from the dead. “The relationship with our deceased loved ones may change, but we can still listen to their signs,” she shares. To clarify, this is not merely about very practical signals; it is more about experiencing feelings by coming together to dedicate songs to the deceased, sharing their stories, or finding meaning in subtle signals throughout the day. “Suppose you have to make a decision, and you notice something that reminds you of your deceased grandmother, you can interpret that signal as her response,” she explains. “It’s a different way of seeing death: not as something linear, with a clear beginning and end point, but as something circular.”
Insignares’s reflections highlight a crucial disconnect in contemporary approaches to grief; we often sidestep death, treating it as a taboo subject best left unaddressed. In many cultures, death is a community affair—there are rituals, gatherings, and shared moments of remembrance that bind people together in their sorrow. The absence of such practices in Western societies is felt keenly, paving the way for innovative initiatives like the funeral café, which strive to reignite community conversation around grieving.
These funeral cafés serve as informal support groups where attendees can discuss their experiences with loss, share stories, and engage in the communal practice of remembering loved ones. They provide a comfortable space to explore grief outside the traditional therapy room, merging personal reflection with social interaction. The camaraderie that can bloom in these spaces offers reassurance that one is not alone in feeling the weight of their sadness.
By incorporating elements of celebration into mourning, such as sharing food (even nachos!), storytelling, or singing, Insignares’s envisioned rituals would transform our understanding of death from a linear end to a circle of ongoing connection with those who have passed. These rituals, when nurtured, can bridge the gap between individual grief and communal support, reminding us that while we may all face death alone, we can choose to grieve together.
as we navigate the complexities of grief in an increasingly individualistic culture, it might be time to rethink our approach. Instead of pushing sadness into the shadows, we can cultivate environments that honor it, allowing us to express our losses freely and authentically. Perhaps embracing new farewell rituals—centered around togetherness rather than isolation—can offer the embrace we all need when confronted with the reality of loss. After all, in celebrating life and honoring death collectively, we not only remember our loved ones but also reinforce the connections that sustain us through our shared human experience. Let’s make room for grief and turn those tears into catalysts for both healing and joy.
