There was, however, one touchy point that I felt compelled to discuss with my parents, and that was the matter of death and burial. To have neglected it would have meant opening the door to a tragedy that could never have been rectified, and so I proceeded to do what I felt I had to do. What compelled me to speak was my knowledge that many people in our family’s milieu chose cremation rather than burial. According to Jewish law, a person who intentionally chooses cremation is cutting himself off from eternity. The eternal existence that is the goal of all conduct in this world is impossible if one chooses to have one’s body burned. The laws of burial, like all Jewish laws, are very specific and complete. They are the final act of kindness we can render our loved ones, besides our basic responsibility to live our lives in such a way as to bring honor to them.

I felt I should speak to my mother first, so I arranged a quiet opportunity to talk. I asked her to consider the Jewish way “for my sake.” I didn’t go into complicated reasons. She knew how we felt. And, you know, she agreed to be buried in accordance with Jewish law, and actually changed her will to reflect that. To tell you the truth, I think that she was very moved by our concern. Shortly after that, I took steps to make sure that we had burial plots for our family. And when Mother got sick and passed away some eight years later, I am proud to say that she was buried completely in accordance with halacha, Jewish law. I was with her when she died, and I remained with her until the chevra Kadisha, the burial society, came to escort her on her final journey.

On Mother’s first yahrzeit, the anniversary of her death, I visited the cemetery. I felt so strongly that we had done the right thing for her for eternity. I asked G-d if I could just have some sign whether Mother was doing all right, some little message from the next world. The next morning our daughter Miriam told me that Mother had visited our family her dream. Mother’s face was radiant.

My father was very moved by the way Mother’s funeral was conducted with such dignity. He was particularly touched by the sight of her coffin being lowered into the ground and the way in which family members, in accordance with Jewish law, shoveled dirt into the grave. He was also impressed with the simple wooden coffin that Jewish law requires.

“So unpretentious. Just like Mother,” he said at the time. I will never forget those words.

The world of Madison Avenue prefers to pretend death doesn’t exist. But we want to live in reality. When you see that coffin being lowered in to the ground and the dirt piled on top of it, and you are shoveling that dirt, there are no illusions about what is happening. The finality of death is brought home to you.

That also permits you to mourn properly, because you cannot morn for one whom you think may still be alive. The Torah tells us that Jacob had no peace for the twenty-two years that his son Joseph was missing. Jacob assumed that Joseph was dead, but he never knew for sure, and during that time he could never come to terms with Joseph’s disappearance. The fact that Joseph was not dead prevented Jacob from having any peace at all, either the peace of life or the peace of death. Life is not complete without death, and death is not complete unless burial is carried out in the way specified by the One Who created life.

Excerpt from From Central Park to Sinai: How I Found My Jewish Soul written by Roy Neuberger.