As we celebrate and grieve during the holidays, let’s remember those who died alone

For the past half-dozen years, Thurston County Coroner Gary Warnock, Interfaith Works and Mills and Mills Funeral Home have held annual services to honor people who died and whose bodies are unclaimed.

This year, there were seven such deaths. One was an older man who lived in a beat-up RV, which he moved between the Grand Mound and Scatter Creek rest stops on Interstate 5 to avoid overstaying the time limit. A Department of Transportation worker had often shared his lunch with this man. When he noticed that the man hadn’t moved his RV for a while, he called the police for a welfare check. The man had passed away, leaving only mystery behind.

Another man died at a local hospital. He had been married and divorced; his ex-wife also had died, and none of the coroner’s calls to possible links to other family members were ever returned.

Yet another deceased person had four adult siblings who so loathed him that they cursed at the deputy coroner for even calling them.

Stories like these make us sorrowful about the frailty and failings of family connections and friendships, and the consequences when they are shattered. It also inspires us to think about how treating people kindly in our lives might reduce the danger of ending our lives alone, unloved and unmourned.

But this year, there is also another category of sorrow: a spike in the number of urns full of ashes that are abandoned years or even decades after someone’s death. Warnock says the coroner’s office typically receives a couple of urns each year that turn up at Goodwill. And he says, they gets cremains “all the time” that are found in abandoned storage units. This year, there were 41 homeless urns.

Some of the urns are left behind when, after years on a relative’s mantel, that relative dies and no one is left to take them. Most, however, are simply left behind or abandoned.

Warnock is understandably appalled. At the service, he lamented the “throwaway culture” that leads people to simply lose track of the remains of their deceased relatives.

Some may think that human ashes are unimportant. But when we devalue the dead, we devalue the living. And when we let go of our family and abandon their remains, we let go of our history. We cut off our own roots.

We may wish to turn our backs on the hard fact of mortality in a vain attempt to deny what lies ahead for all of us. It is easy to forget the obvious truth: It is death that gives the miracle of life its meaning. Only by honestly experiencing the sorrow of death and loss can we fully experience the joy of life.

It’s that whole package we celebrate this holiday season. We celebrate the birth of a baby, the turning of the solstice, and the ancient story of a miraculous rekindling light. We show our gratitude for the gift of life and our love for each other with presents, food and acts of charity. We light up the night. In these celebrations, we engage with ancient traditions and connect ourselves to ancestors who have been dead for thousands of years.

In holiday joy, there is also a poignant time of grieving for people we loved who are no longer with us to celebrate. And now we grieve also for those we didn’t know, who ended their lives alone in an RV, in a hospital, or in a tent in the woods.

But there is beauty in grief too. Warnock offers two stories of people who honored the dead, and who are better for it:

One young man overcame a drug addiction, turned his life around, and got a job with a small grocery store. But when his father died, he had no money to pay for his burial or cremation, or to travel to Olympia to lay his remains to rest. Instead, his employers paid for all those expenses.

Another man had spent two years searching for his biological father, who he had never met. When he finally found him, he learned he had died two weeks before. He claimed his body, mourned his loss, and in doing so proved he was the best son a man could have.

We live in the balance – sometimes in the imbalance – of joy and sorrow. It is no wonder that the holiday season is both a high season of celebration and a time when depression can descend like a dark fog.

The best we can do is to lean towards the light, together.