Small funerals put families and the deceased first

Shin Sung-sik

The author is a welfare specialist reporter at the JoongAng Ilbo.

Five things absent, five things present: Song Gil-won has turned the conventional Korean funeral on its head. Song, a pastor and head of Hi Family who has spent 28 years improving end-of-life culture, gave his father a “small funeral.” On Oct. 2, Senior Citizens Day, he received the Order of Civil Merit Pomegranate Medal for helping promote family-centered practices surrounding death and funerals.

Song’s father, Song Ha-kyung, a former school principal, died Sept. 5 at 96. Song held a family funeral without issuing an obituary notice — what he calls “a bill with a bank account number.”

The memorial was held in a gallery at the Hi Family Center in Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi Province. There were no condolence wreaths, donation box or yukgaejang, a spicy beef soup commonly served at funerals. Some visitors were offered coffee and could choose among three nearby restaurants.

Instead of an elaborate floral altar, the family displayed cherished possessions, including a desk clock and worn shoes. Four photographs depicting his life hung on the wall alongside other belongings. Family members served as docents, telling visitors about him.

The family and mourners viewed his face. His body was kept in a portable refrigerated unit developed by Hi Family. Thirty-two relatives gathered, from Song’s six siblings to the deceased’s great-grandchildren.

Rather than traditional burial clothes, the deceased wore his favorite jeans and shirt. His family dressed similarly. His remains were placed in a woodland burial site.

For four days, the family laughed and cried. The funeral cost about 5 million won ($3,700), far below the more than 12 million won often spent.

“The funeral was entirely about the deceased,” Song said. His grandchildren learned who their grandfather had been, he said, and the family grew closer. His father’s will said: “My legacy is that I leave nothing behind.”

I recently attended a conventional funeral for an acquaintance’s mother at a Seoul hospital. The family rented the largest room. Three-tiered flower wreaths lined the corridor and flowers filled the altar.

People asked only two questions about the deceased: “How old was she?” and “Had she been ill for long?” Ribbons from perhaps 150 wreaths circled the walls of the vast reception room after the flowers were removed. The chief mourner rushed between the memorial room and guests. I held my parents’ funerals the same way. The deceased was almost an afterthought.

Small funerals centered on the deceased and family are growing across Korea today.

Small Ending, a family-funeral company, may keep the body at a funeral hall while setting up a memorial in the family living room, with a portrait, flowers and personal belongings. Some rent a small funeral room. They receive few or no mourners, so there is no banquet food. Others dispense with a memorial room altogether.

The company receives about 100 inquiries and handles 30 family funerals a month. Its fixed-price service costs 2.5 million won without a memorial room and 4.5 million won with one.

“People who have experienced a hectic conventional funeral want something simple and calm,” said Choi Won-jun, head of Small Ending. “Few choose it simply to save money. We get many doctors and lawyers.”

Han Gyeore Dure Cooperative offers a small-funeral service, Chaebi, arranging funeral halls, memorial ceremonies, encoffining and departures for cremation or burial. It also operates a memorial space in central Seoul.

Kang Hyo-min, 38, held her 96-year-old grandmother’s funeral there in August 2024. Twenty photographs of her grandmother’s life were displayed with belongings including a jewelry box, glasses, a hat and bag. Some 60 to 70 mourners came for one day.

Guests received a memorial newsletter about her life and were served her favorite snacks, including sweet red-bean jelly, cream bread and sandwiches.

“We decided there was little meaning in a formal funeral where people who barely knew her came, paid money and left,” Kang said. “The feelings my mother had while caring for my grandmother for two years mattered more.”

The trend is also shortening funerals. According to data provided to Rep. Nam In-soon of the National Assembly’s Health and Welfare Committee, two-day funerals accounted for 12,376, or 3.5 percent, of 349,419 cremations last year, up from 3.3 percent a year earlier. The share rose to 5.8 percent in the first half of this year.

Park Tae-ho, co-head of a funeral and cremation culture research forum, calls today’s system “factory-style funerals,” shaped by hospital-based services and social display.

“With ultra-low birthrates and more elderly people living alone, smaller funerals are inevitable,” Park said, calling for more small family-funeral spaces, greater cremation capacity and systems for people who die without family.

Song also advocates wider use of portable refrigerated units and opening small spaces at religious and public facilities for gatherings of 20 to 30 people.