A Moment of Magic

Melinda Gipson | October, 2025

How did the last funeral you attended make you feel? 

After more than three decades of service as a mortician, funeral director and life celebrant, Victoria Burke, Clozure’s Chief Concierge believes that, as devastating as the loss of a loved one can be, every funeral can hold what she calls a “moment of magic.”

While it’s hard to describe, it is for one’s family and friends, that moment, above all, when it feels like the person being honored was there in the room, gracing everyone with a last smile or fond farewell. It can be at once an intensely private remembrance, and one shared by all who loved the departed. “That was so X,” you’ll hear yourself say.

For my own generation, former First Lady Nancy Reagan taught us all how to honor our loved ones with her farewell to President Ronald Reagan. In a week full of pomp and ceremony, the moment of magic for me was when US Navy Captain James A. Symonds, the commanding officer of the USS Ronald Reagan, presented the folded American flag to the widow at the internment services at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. 

Its resonance came from the fact that it is a moment shared by everyone who has lost a service member afforded military honors at the graveside. In this instance, it capped a lifetime of service to the departing Commander in Chief who’d told Gorbechev to “tear down this wall” and declared “morning in America.” 

Everyone touches lives in their own unique way, and sometimes the moments that do them honor at heart reflect the manner in which they lived. 

For my own son Mike, whose untimely passing helped inspire the creation of Clozure, that memorial moment couldn’t possibly have been planned, making it feel all the more divinely inspired. 

Mike was when he died the front man for a rock-and-roll band called One Nightstand. There was, in fact, a nightstand that featured in the show as a prop on which the diminutive singer could stand as he belted out rock ballads, or into which he could surreptitiously peek at the lyrics to a new standard. Among our most precious musical memories was a private one in which the electricity went out one night and we were forced to “entertain ourselves” by candlelight. 

Mike brought out his acoustic guitar and memorably plucked out “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, and we un-self-consciously sang along, there being no crowd to drown us out. Mike commented that his brother Jonathan should “really sing more,” so he honored that wish by planning to sing that song with the band at the funeral. 

Trouble was, talking all week, and maybe sobbing prodigiously, combined to give him laryngitis. He couldn’t croak a word – and the band hadn’t learned the lyrics, since their only job was accompaniment. It could have made for an awkward tribute except for the fact that Mike was there in spirit, rousing participation. From the overflow room, like a heavenly choir – much as we had that dark December night – Mike’s friends pulled out their cellphones and belted out the song. Mike would have loved to hear it. 

As you plan your own or another’s home-going, bear in mind that a funeral, like life, is made up of memorable moments. Together they’re a reflection of all that person has meant to us, full of surprise and fun, giving and instruction, inspiration and guidance. On one level, no single moment can encapsulate a person for everyone, but the moment is made magical through maximum participation. 

It says, with one voice, “We loved you greatly and will never forget you.” 

So, how does that make you feel? 

In a word, grateful.