Ours are among the first generations for whom the dead body's presence at its own funeral has become optional. Death as an actual event has nearly vanished from everyday awareness, and people shrink from the hands-on duties of burying their own as never before.
Even after handling hundreds of bodies a year, the one who tends them can still see the particular person each one was. Every death is named and tied to the family it leaves behind, which keeps the work from becoming mere disposal.
The dead are past caring what happens to them; it is the survivors who need the work of carrying them to their resting place. By doing that work for the body, mourners move themselves to where grief can begin.
Facing the plain fact that everyone dies sharpens attention to love, friendship, ageing, parenting and failure rather than darkening them. Accepting that end can be warm and even funny instead of only grim.
The concrete tasks of a funeral, such as embalming, casketing, arranging flowers and selling urns, are not separate from its meaning; they carry it. Doing those chores with care is how the one serving becomes both a working hand and a witness to grief.