My grandmother’s funeral was quiet. I was young, so I can recall only a sliver of that day in Melbourne, but I do remember the silence.
In places like Australia, the public tradition of mourning is largely that of Anglo-Saxon stoicism. My grandmother was neither British nor Christian, but what I remember as the thorough decorum of her passing formed my idea of “proper mourning.”
Social media put an end to all that. On Twitter and Facebook the practice is loud. It’s noisy and decadent. Even obnoxious.
In a year marked by the worst of everything, the march of celebrity death was a horribly steady and repetitive drumbeat. Read more…