You don’t have to die to have a funeral

A brief guide to living funerals, and celebrating life while you still can.

There are only two times in life when all your people gather in one room: your wedding or your funeral.

While weddings and funerals may seem like polar opposites on the spectrum of human experiences, they’re not as different as we've been taught to think.

As a former wedding planner (now planning my own wedding) and a death doula who supports people in preparing for the end of their lives, I’ve come to realize that weddings and funerals share a common thread. Both are, in essence, rites of passage that bring people together to witness and honor significant life transitions​​. While weddings celebrate new beginnings, they can also highlight the void left by those who have died (or feelings of grief for your former life, even if you love your new one), making the heart yearn for their presence in the midst of celebration. And of course, funerals honor the end of a life, the transition of death, and celebrate the life that was lived.

When it comes to funerals as a celebration of life—which is what they really are—I can’t help but think it’s a little too late. Not only do you miss your own party, but by then, many of the people who really knew you are likely already dead, too.

Don’t get me wrong: funerals are a crucial ritual to support the grieving process and honor a human life. But they’re often planned in crisis, because we live in a death-denying culture, most people avoid talking about or planning for it, which can lead to heightened stress and even lingering guilt—overspending (or underspending) on a casket, rushing decisions about cremation vs. composting, or just feeling like everything happened too fast. Not to mention, it’s hard to fully celebrate or be present for a sacred ritual when you’re stressed, rushed, and emotionally flooded.

That’s why, when I first heard about it, I fell in love with the concept of a living funeral.

What is a living funeral?

Also called a pre-funeral or a living wake, a living funeral is exactly what it sounds like: a funeral held before death. It often includes elements of a traditional funeral (speeches, music, rituals), but with one profound difference: the person being honored is still alive—to hear the stories, to feel the love, and has the opportunity to say thank you or anything else that’s on their mind. It’s kinda like a final birthday party (but not in your birthday suit, unless, of course, that’s your thing).

As with many rituals, this idea is not new, and no one knows exactly when, how, or where it originated. However, the first widely recognized seizensō—or “funeral while living”—was held in 1992 by Japanese actress and singer Takiko Mizunoe for her 78th birthday. She was inspired to host a living funeral after attending a memorial concert for a musician a year earlier, when she contemplated why we wait to honor someone until after they’ve died. So she planned a funeral while she was still alive to enjoy it.

Mizunoe said she wanted: “to express my appreciation to all those who have been dear to me while I am still alive.” The event began as you would imagine a typical funeral would, solemn and serene. There were religious and spiritual readings, hymns, chants, and music, complete with eulogies, an altar adorned with flowers, incense burning, and a large portrait of the honoree.

But then, in an unexpected turn of events, Mizunoe stood up and exited the room. Returning in a new outfit and to the sound of a live band! The funeral ceremony transformed into a “resurrection festival” — a living celebration of her 78th birthday full of laughter, dancing, and joy.

In a culture that prizes humility and deference to family, Mizunoe’s decision was bold. And that first living funeral struck a chord in Japan, where aging is often seen as a burden by the elderly. By holding her own ceremony, Mizunoe reclaimed her agency, which resonated with elders who wanted to relieve their children of the emotional and financial burden of a traditional funeral. The idea spread, and more and more people began opting to handle their own farewells while they were still alive.

One of the more famous living funerals is the one detailed in Tuesdays with Morrie, the bestselling memoir by Mitch Albom. When Morrie Schwartz, a beloved sociology professor at Brandeis University, was diagnosed with ALS in 1995, he didn’t retreat from life. Instead, he opened his door and began inviting friends and students and hosting weekly gatherings at his home, which he called “living funerals” so he could actually hear their stories, their gratitude, their love—before he died.

While it might seem unusual or even a little vain to host your own funeral while still alive, people have been doing it for generations. Cultures around the world have long recognized the importance of honoring the living before they die. One lesser-known example includes the Lakota Sioux, who revere the days leading up to death with profound intention. At the end of life, they gather in community, surrounding the person dying with presence, stories, food, and, most importantly, truth. In an effort to ease any tensions or feelings of guilt, they offer forgiveness and make amends without hesitation. This moment creates space for everyone to live with peace in their hearts and minds, and nothing is left unsaid. It reminds me a lot of the intention behind Dr. Ira Byock’s book, The Four Things That Matter Most.

And in recent years, along with the death-positive movement, it has become more common as part of a growing shift to destigmatize discussions around dying and aid in transforming the denial of death into a celebration of life. Typically, living funerals are often held for people who are nearing death, either because of old age or a terminal diagnosis, but increasingly, living funerals are becoming more popular with people who just want to hear the nice things people have to say about them and feel loved while they’re still alive. Some people now choose to host them to mark milestone birthdays, express gratitude, or simply celebrate being alive before illness or age demands it.

Don’t wait for death—it doesn’t wait for you

I was reminded of this concept unexpectedly last weekend, during my bachelorette party, as it surprisingly felt like a living funeral. You might be thinking: “Gee Maura, that sounds pretty morbid and strange,” but it was actually incredibly meaningful.

Opening a gift from friends at my bachelorette

I almost didn’t have the bachelorette for many reasons: the cost in both money and time, wondering whether it’s an outdated tradition or I’m too old, etc. etc. . But my friends insisted, and I’m so glad they did, because it was a weekend I’ll never forget. The time to connect with my dearest friends was precious—sacred, even. At one point, during a lovely dinner, between bites of pasta and sips of natural wine, they all went around the table and shared what they love about me. They told stories I’d forgotten and shared moments I didn’t realize had meant something to them. I laughed. I cried. And felt so loved and saw myself in a different light, a different mirror.

The experience reminded me that we don’t need to and shouldn’t wait for a milestone society deems “important enough” to celebrate, to say beautiful things. Being alive is reason enough!

Especially in a world that tells us to wait:

Wait for the ring.

Wait for the baby.

Wait for the diagnosis.

Wait for the loss.

I don’t think we should wait. We should say it now while we can still hear it and enjoy it.

Because we never know when we are going to die.

Why (and how) to design a living funeral

When I discuss the concept of a living funeral with people, I’ve noticed that their reactions tend to fall into three camps:

1. “OMG—I want one.”

2. “That’s…weird.”

3. “That makes sense, but I could never. Too much fuss.”
   

I’ve come to believe (as someone who was recently persuaded to have a bachelorette party) that the third reason is its own kind of burden. There’s a voice in our heads that whispers: You’re not worthy. The voice that asks: What if nobody shows up—or what if they don’t have much to say?

The fear of being seen. The discomfort with being celebrated. And maybe that’s exactly why we need to do it anyway. Because you are worthy, and people do care.

Living funerals are an act of celebrating life.

Not everyone gets a wedding, a baby shower, a 75th birthday, or a big retirement party. For those who are single, child-free, or walking a different path, a living funeral can be a rare and meaningful way to say: my life is worthy of celebration, too.

And if the words “living funeral” feel too heavy, too weird, or too hard to say out loud, just don’t use them. Some people wrap this spirit into a milestone birthday, a retirement, or a transition ceremony. You don’t need to wait for a diagnosis, or even a reason. You just need a willingness to say, “I want to celebrate this life while I’m still in it.”

Here are just a few of the benefits of hosting this type of gathering—whether you choose to label it a living funeral or not: For the person being honored, a living funeral offers the opportunity to shape how they’re remembered, speak their final words, express gratitude, and resolve any unfinished business. It’s a rare invitation to sit at the center of your own story and witness the impact you’ve had on others. For friends and family, it’s a chance to say your goodbyes face-to-face, which is not something everyone gets to do, and without it, can result in complicated grief or guilt. (I got to hold my mother’s hand and be by her side as she took her last breath, and even though it was somewhat traumatic for me, it was also incredibly transformational, and I’ll be forever grateful for that moment.) And because it’s planned ahead of time, it can ease the emotional and logistical load later on. You know the person’s wishes. Maybe the funds are already set aside. In a culture that delays intimacy and avoids death, a living funeral brings us back to what matters—before it’s too late.

It doesn’t have to be elaborate. It can be as simple as a dinner party. A backyard picnic. A candlelit circle in your living room. What matters isn’t the venue or the cost—it’s the intention: to gather the people who matter most and tell the truth about what your life has meant. It can be spiritual or irreverent, solemn or sparkly. It can involve karaoke, legacy letters, memory trees, or a comedy roast. There are no rules—only that you get to be there for it.

If you’re looking for some comedic inspiration, watch this Curb Your Enthusiasm episode about Albert Brooks hosting a living funeral that doesn’t go as planned. Or if you’re craving more inspiration or real-life stories, this Guardian article features people who’ve hosted their own living funerals talking about the experience in their own words.

Don’t let the potential cost stop you—there are always ways to gather meaningfully without an extravagant expense. In Utah last year, 29-year-old Tanner Martin hosted his living funeral at a movie theater after receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis. With the help of his wife Shay and her father, they partnered with local businesses who generously donated the venue, red carpet, limo, photographer, even hair and makeup. Over 275 people came, and in his words, it was one of the most meaningful days of his life.

If you’re curious about hosting a similar experience for yourself (or someone else), I’d love to help. I guide people through designing and holding their living funerals—whether they’re facing the end of life, a major life transition, or simply want to mark the sacredness of being alive. Reply to this email to learn more.

Would you ever consider having a living funeral? If you did, what would it look like? Or have you ever had a celebration that felt like one? We all have stories. I’d love to hear yours.

— Maura