When mourning comes.

I have always been surprised when I learn from friends that they have been to very few, if any, funerals. That makes me a funeral pro, because I've been attending them regularly most of my life. The first funeral I remember was my grandmother's, when I was 6. My parents took their five children, all under the age of 10, to Ohio to Grandma and Grandpa's house, where we knew Grandma would not be, and to the funeral home, church, burial, and meal.

It strikes me now as a courageous thing that my parents did. It would have been much easier for them to leave us with a babysitter in Michigan and go take care of the difficult business themselves. No tough questions to answer from uncomprehending children and no added tears to the already sad event. Instead, they talked to us about heaven, about the fun we had with Grandma and how she called out to us in the evenings to come for black cows at her yellow kitchen table.

I remember hesitating when I saw the casket. My mother took my hand as we approached, whispering that this is Grandma, she's peaceful, we love her, and must say goodbye. Halfway there I changed my mind and retreated to the back of the room, where, for the first time, I saw my grandfather cry. I still think of her funeral when we sing "I Am the Bread of Life" in church.

The most recent and most challenging funeral I attended was my own father's funeral. While many of the memories of my father's short and unexpected illness have rightly taken a less prominent place in my mind, I can look back with genuine comfort on the activities of that time that helped us through. These were sacramental activities--the anointing of the sick; his last Confession, which I glimpsed through the windowed doors of our sunroom as he talked, and even laughed, with our parish priest; and, of course, the unforgettable funeral itself, in the church where so much of our life as a family had been marked, fed, and turned back out into the world to keep on and make good.

What is it that makes a good funeral? In our cover story, we put this and other curiosities to critically acclaimed essayist, poet, and undertaker Thomas Lynch. He holds a magnifying glass up to our practices surrounding death, sharing his most unique perspective on dealing with the dead and what a good funeral can mean for us when death strikes close to home ("What makes a good funeral?" pages 12-17).

In this month's special book issue we also take a look at the books that are being written about the current clergy sexual-abuse crisis ("Bad news on the rise," pages 26-29). And you'll enjoy renowned author Patricia Hampl's thoughts on the importance of things remembered ("Writing lessons," pages 18-20), especially those private and shared rituals that give meaning to our lives.