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Anatomical Gift Program helps in healing process by Harris Murray Special to The Catalyst A funeral is an event designed to honor life, the life of someone who has loved and been loved; someone who has given and who has received; someone who has triumphed and suffered; someone who has forgiven and who has been forgiven; someone who has laughed with joy and sobbed with anguish; someone who has worked and enjoyed leisure; someone who has touched others and has been touched by others; someone who has made a difference.   Now often called celebrations of life, funerals are, in fact, events designed to say goodbye and to begin moving forward with the new reality that someone important to us will no longer be physically present with us. They are events that allow us to acknowledge the ending of life on earth and the physical reality of death.   When a funeral ends, life moves on just like the people easing their way through a greeting line move out of the arms of the people they embrace on the way back to their lives, gently and in hushed tones. It’s a tender time, fragile and complex in its simplicity.   People seldom honor a death.   I had the privilege of doing just that recently, along with one of my brothers, as we attended a service of gratitude and remembrance at the Medical University of South Carolina. The purpose of the service is to express appreciation to family members and to honor the gift their loved ones gave in death by donating their bodies to medical education and research.   Our mother was a body donor. In 1998, she completed the paperwork necessary to be a body donor. One of the requirements of her decision was that all four of her children had to agree to support her commitment. Without question, we did. Without saying it, I believe we all understood that with a 40-year nursing career behind her, she wanted to continue to contribute to the medical profession after her death.   Who honors a person’s death? For my brother and me, it was about 50 medical students who participated in the service. Some sang in the choir; others played in the orchestra. Still others sang solos and shared readings or poems. Some spoke from their hearts about what it meant to study the human body firsthand through the donation of our loved ones.   As the students spoke and sang, a sense of consecration engulfed the small chapel. Family members grieved anew, gently weeping and wiping away tears as they faced the very students their loved ones desired to help. From the students came solemn expressions, unwilling to look into the eyes of those gathered before them, yet keenly aware that without them, their medical journey would be incomplete. It was clear that this was an intricately emotional experience for them.   As the service neared its end, the sun began to set. Evening shadows embraced the polished woods of the pews and darkened the tones of the stained glass windows. Yet in that dimming, I sensed a warming reassurance that in the darkening of my mother’s earthly life, she chose to give of herself to help others, to use her death for a greater good, and to touch the lives of people she will never know.   People seldom honor a death, but I have been blessed to know what a meaningful experience it can be.     Friday, Dec. 14, 2007 Catalyst Online is published weekly, updated as needed and improved from time to time by the MUSC Office of Public Relations for the faculty, employees and students of the Medical University of South Carolina. Catalyst Online editor, Kim Draughn, can be reached at 792-4107 or by email, catalyst@musc.edu. Editorial copy can be submitted to Catalyst Online and to The Catalyst in print by fax, 792-6723, or by email to catalyst@musc.edu. To place an ad in The Catalyst hardcopy, call Island Publications at 849-1778, ext. 201.