Last Rites, Tailored to Immigrant Customs

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Preserving Traditions at Life's End
Just as immigrants have transformed the way of life in the Washington area, they have also influenced the way of death.

Scheduling also can be tricky for Buddhists, whose monks sometimes consult lunar calendars to select auspicious funeral dates -- which might not be available at a funeral home.

Facilities can be problematic, too. Both National Memorial and Fairfax Memorial get requests from Muslims and Hispanics for overnight visitations, which they do not provide -- although Caillier said National Memorial is considering it. Le said some mortuaries refuse to remove mirrors in service rooms, as some Asians want, and instead cover them with a cloth. Others, such as Fairfax Memorial, do not provide common rooms where Buddhists, whose funerals sometimes last several days, can gather to snack and chat.

National Memorial prohibits thick incense sticks during services because they can trigger fire alarms.

But more funeral homes and cemeteries seem willing to do what they can, Magid said -- even if only out of practicality.

"At the end of the day, it's business," he said. "If they don't accept us, I'm not going to send people to them."

Religious leaders say that although their communities are grateful for adaptations, some immigrants would prefer to run their own cemeteries and funeral homes.

One Northern Virginia group, the All Muslim Association of America, already does. About a decade ago, members bought a $36,000, five-acre parcel in Stafford County for a Muslim cemetery. There, graves point east, plots are free and burials always happen quickly, volunteer S. Javed said.

Gupta, the Hindu priest, said his temple hopes to build a center that would include a library, education center and funeral home.

On a Saturday morning last month, Great Falls resident Tung Yap, 39, distributed programs as family members in white Buddhist funeral clothing flowed into the chapel at Fairfax Memorial. The programs told the story of his late father, Chorn Yap, 82: a popular general-store owner in a Cambodian village, a father who toiled in Khmer Rouge labor camps and lived to have 27 grandchildren, a man with a fourth-grade education who raised doctors and accountants.

"Some Cambodian people went there before," Tung Yap said, explaining why his family chose Fairfax Memorial. "So they are familiar with our traditions."

Later, four monks swathed in orange led a procession into the crematory.

"Can we put the flowers in there?" asked Sovan Tun, president of Yap's Silver Spring temple, as funeral assistants Bryan Allison and Jennifer Thomas pushed the coffin into the large metal retort, or cremation chamber. The funeral home workers nodded, unfazed, as family members placed a cascade of yellow flowers, a plate of incense sticks and tiny sacks of rose-scented potpourri at the foot of the coffin.

If they had been in Cambodia, Yap's eldest son, Thong Kim Yap, 50, might have lighted his funeral pyre. Here, he pushed a green "Start Cycle" button on the side of the retort. A loud whir penetrated the room, and with that, the service was over.

Tung Yap said it was everything he had wanted for his father.