No Resting in Peace: Death in Greece

“Following the death of a loved one, the emotional strain we experience increases exponentially. In Greece, however, navigating the rights and rituals of death is almost as challenging as coping with the loss. The odyssey of death for the family of the deceased begins with the loved one’s last breath. I will not discuss the mountain of paperwork and bureaucracy a family contends with when there is no will or even if there is one. My focus here will be the departed and her or his loved ones, all of whom can never ‘rest in peace.’ The Greek death odyssey may be divided into two parts: the funeral and after the burial, because following the burial there is a gravestone to be arranged, memorials to be scheduled and, eventually, the decision about where the remains will go following exhumation. Yes, you read that right. The remains are exhumed in Greece . . . and moved, from one ‘resting place’ to another.”—Stacey Harris-Papaioannou

Seaside Scribbles

By Stacey Harris-Papaioannou

MYKONOS Greece—(Hubris)—March/April 2026—Death is tough. In Greece, death has all the intricacies of theatrical tragedy with its rites and rituals, superstitions and dogma, religious doctrine, symbolism and pageantry. Nothing is simple. Nothing is streamlined. Nothing is straightforward. And there is definitely no “resting in peace.”

Even the accepted Greek expression offered in bereavement sounds coldly rote—“Eternal be thy memory /Eoneea ee mneemee/Αιώνια η μνήμη”—as opposed to the personalized expressions of condolence in Western culture such as, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” “My deepest condolences,” “You have my sincere sympathy,” “Thinking of you during this difficult time,” or “My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.” 

Every action, every activity, every choice is steeped in history, superstition, and dogma, set in stone.

Following the death of a loved one, the emotional strain we experience increases exponentially. In Greece, however, navigating the rights and rituals of death is almost as challenging as coping with the loss. The odyssey of death for the family of the deceased begins with the loved one’s last breath. I will not discuss the mountain of paperwork and bureaucracy a family contends with when there is no will or even if there is one. My focus here will be the departed and her or his loved ones, all of whom can never “rest in peace.” The Greek death odyssey may be divided into two parts: the funeral and after the burial, because following the burial there is a gravestone to be arranged, memorials to be scheduled and, eventually, the decision about where the remains will go following exhumation.

Yes, you read that right. The remains are exhumed in Greece . . . and moved, from one “resting place” to another.

The Death Odyssey Begins

A “point person” immediately takes the lead, first notifying people, then planning the funeral, the burial, and the dinner after. This is usually a member of the family or a very close friend who is the least emotional and most pragmatic member of the bereaved. The point person coordinates with the parish priest and the municipality. If the person has died outside of their hometown—a regular occurrence for those of us who live on islands—arrangements must speedily be made with a mortician in Athens, and the deceased must be transported by hearse on a ferry back to the island. Dying in Athens usually adds a day or two to the arrangements.

If the person dies on the island, it isn’t a public holiday, and it is obvious that the cause of death was natural, the deceased is buried before sundown of the day following, or on the same day, depending on the time of death.

On Mykonos, the Municipality Health Center now has morgue facilities, so sometimes, if a relative cannot get back to the island in time, the funeral may be delayed by a day or two. Prior to this, there was no possibility of waiting, particularly in the heat of summer. Almost immediately following a death, the grave must be prepared, memorials must be planned, and plates must be broken over the grave,

In Greek Orthodox burial traditions, symbolic rituals are deeply tied to spiritual beliefs, respect for the dead, and ancient customs. When I was first indoctrinated into these rites and rituals, I was shocked and disbelieving of practices that seemed to me macabre. After four decades of living in Greece, however, I know the rituals by heart and am able to give anyone who has a death in the family a virtual primer outlining what is expected to take place.

But just because I know these customs by rote does not mean I accept or embrace them. After all my years here, I remain vehemently opposed to Greek funerary practices, which I believe violate the peace to which the dead are entitled.

Wake (Trisagion Service), Funeral & Burial

A Greek Orthodox funeral is a solemn and traditional religious service that reflects deep spiritual beliefs about death and the afterlife. Before the funeral, a short prayer service called the Trisagion (“Thrice Holy”) is held at the funeral home or church, and sometimes again at the gravesite. Family and friends gather to pray for the soul of the deceased.

The funeral service proper is held in a Greek Orthodox church, and includes: Chanting and prayers focused on resurrection and eternal life; Scripture readings, especially from the Psalms and New Testament; and an optional eulogy, which may be offered by the priest or, if requested, by a family member.

The casket is usually open, and mourners may view the deceased and pay their respects. Paying their respects means that they will light a candle, bend over the deceased, kiss the cross on/in the casket, make the sign of the cross, and perhaps pat or kiss the deceased. The priest then offers final prayers and anoints the body with oil and earth in the sign of the cross.

After the church service, the body is taken to a cemetery for burial. The Trisagion is repeated at the gravesite, and the priest blesses the grave. In most villages, if the casket is carried through the streets from the church to the cemetery, it must follow a different path, so “the steps of death” do not crisscross.

Following the graveside Trisagion, before the casket is lowered into the ground, the deceased’s shoes are removed. The first time I encountered this practice was at the funeral of a 28-year-old man. He left behind my dear friend and their very young children. When she selected clothing for the morticians, she included his best suit, shirt, tie, and his beloved cowboy boots. At the burial, before his remains were lowered into the grave, the cemetery workers wrestled with something inside the casket. At some point we heard two hard cracks. We watched in disbelief as the worker took the boots in hand and tossed them to the side.

Days later, I consulted Papa Giorgi (our parish priest, Father George) and asked why this had happened.

He explained that there are three reasons for not placing shoes on the deceased at burial. There is the spiritual symbolism of remaining humble in death, as well as the practicality dictated by poverty.

In Orthodox Christianity, death is seen as the journey of the soul into the afterlife. For that spiritual journey, the deceased no longer need shoes: their journey in the material world, along analog walkways, has ended.

Being buried without shoes may also reflect a soul’s humility before God. All people, regardless of their social status, return to the earth without material possessions.

In older village tradition, shoes were usually reused, especially in poorer communities. Also, it’s easier to dress a body without shoes in burial garments (called the savanon, or white shroud). Greek morticians today will instruct you to not bring shoes at all.

Another practice that seems unusual is that a plate is broken over the grave at the time of burial. This is not a formal Orthodox Christian rite but rather a folk tradition that survives in some regions of Greece, especially in rural areas or on certain islands. Breaking a plate is a symbolic way of marking a final farewell, breaking the last connection between the living and the deceased, breaking ties with the physical world.

In folk superstition, loud noises (like plate smashing) were believed to scare away evil spirits that might linger near a grave, and, so, a way of warding off evil. The gesture emphasizes the emotional impact and irreversible nature of death—much like plate-breaking in other Greek customs (e.g., at weddings) symbolizes strong emotions or transformation.

Makaria (Mercy Meal)

After the burial, family and guests gather for a meal, traditionally including fish (often baked cod), which symbolizes Christ. According to one Greek Orthodox priest I spoke with, death is viewed with a deep sense of respect and solemnity. Greek culture places significant emphasis on remembering and honoring the deceased. The regular memorials are a significant social and religious event for the members of the family and the community to remember the departed.

Each family has the right to depart from these traditions—cremation is finally being viewed as more acceptable within the community if not by the church.

In the next 40 days, arrangements must be made for erecting a headstone and marble entombment. A date must be scheduled with the priest for the 40-day memorial service (μνημόσυνα). Traditionally, it takes place on a Sunday within the 40 days following a death. A mass is said, and then the memorial service follows.

In the Greek Orthodox Church, kolyva (κόλλυβα)—a dish made of boiled wheat kernels mixed with ingredients such as nuts, raisins, pomegranate seeds, and powdered sugar—is offered at memorial services to commemorate the dead. This practice has theological and symbolic significance rooted in both Christian belief and ancient tradition. The primary symbolism of kolyva is the resurrection of the dead. Wheat grains are used to echo Jesus’s words in John 12: 24: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Just as wheat is buried and springs forth in new life, so too will the dead rise again at the Second Coming of Christ.

By preparing and offering kolyva, the faithful express hope in the resurrection and life after death. It’s a physical way of affirming the Church’s teaching that death is not the end, but a passage to new life in Christ. Kolyva is then brought to church as an offering on behalf of the departed. It is blessed during the memorial service, and the faithful pray for the repose of the soul of the deceased and God’s mercy and forgiveness. The use of boiled wheat for honoring the dead predates even Christianity, with roots in ancient Greek and Roman customs, but the Greek Orthodox Church has borrowed and reimagined the practice, investing it with Christian meaning.

The Kolyva Police

However, if you stray from any of the normally accepted and expected customs and traditions of Greek Orthodoxy, you will face the ire of “the Kolyva Police,” as my brother Paul, years ago, christened women “of the faith” who are anything but benevolent. They cast harsh judgment on family members when traditions are not followed. They may smile sweetly and offer their condolences only to later turn around to their cohorts and gossip about why you are an awful son, daughter, spouse etc. for not following tradition.

When my father died, although a man of deep faith in God but not in organized religion, he wanted no funeral and requested to be cremated. Forty days after his death, we wanted to have a memorial service in our hometown church, where many people had known and loved my father. The parish priest happily scheduled the date and made a point of telling my brother what a loss Dad was to the community because he was such a bastion of support and kindness to others. 

When my brother requested that kolyva be prepared to be distributed following the memorial service, the individual responsible said they didn’t know if they could fulfil the order because Dad had not had a funeral or a burial. My brother asked the priest to intervene, and the priest explained to the individual that it was not her place to judge but God’s. He also told the individual that “if we can’t make kolyva for a person as kind as Jim Harris, who are we going to make kolyva for?”

Undoubtedly, there is an emotional cost involved in all rituals. In Western societies, we are often encouraged to move on, to get past a loved one’s death and get on with our lives. In Greece, there is the expectation that you will follow the pattern of tending the grave faithfully and arranging the various memorial services so that you remain “busy with the death,” months and years after your family member has departed.

Some may need this additional time and these rituals to both accept a death and find a practical way of doing something while grieving, but the emotional toll involved in reliving the loss throughout these rites comprises a heavy burden for some.

There is also the practical, financial burden of these rituals. The funeral and burial are costly. Erecting a marble enclosure for the coffin, which is normal practice in Greece, is expensive. The memorial service includes the expense of paying the priest, purchasing or making koliva, and hosting a coffee with treats or snacks or a dinner for family and friends following each service.

Whether you have the financial means for all of this is a moot point. The community, especially in small, insular Greek societies, makes clear that this is the very least you must do for the departed, and the memorials occur at periods of: 3 days, 9 days, 40 days, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, 1 year, and then every year after that until the third.

There are widows who spend the long years following their husbands’ deaths, clad entirely in black apparel and making a daily trek to the graveyard. They light the oil lamp, keeping the vigil of light for the departed, and tend to the grave, cleaning the marble, watering the plants, or bringing fresh flowers. 

The Kolyva Police are not relegated to just the memorial but in general will gossip about and judge graves meant to memorialize the deceased if there are not plenty of fresh flowers and plants adorning the marble exterior, and if there is not a candle or wick-in-oil lamp eternally burning to honor the departed, all of which requires a daily or weekly visit.

The ancient Greeks believed in an afterlife, with Hades being the god of the underworld. The journey of the soul to the underworld played a significant role in their cosmology. The ancients performed rituals to ensure the deceased’s smooth passage to the afterlife, often placing a coin (obol) in the mouth of the deceased to pay Charon, the ferryman who transported souls across the River Styx.

Burial was considered essential for the peace of the soul. Both burial and cremation were practiced, with burial being more common in earlier periods and cremation becoming more prevalent later.

Graves were often marked with stelae (grave markers) depicting the deceased, and grave goods were buried with the deceased to provide for them in the afterlife.

With the advent of Christianity, Greek burial practices were heavily influenced by Orthodox Christian beliefs. The body became something sacred, reflecting the Christian belief in the resurrection.

Crosses are a common symbol on Greek graves, reflecting the Christian faith. Icons of saints or of Christ are also often placed on graves. Greek cemeteries are often well-maintained and can be quite elaborate, with family tombs or mausoleums being common.

Graves are decorated with flowers, candles, and photographs. Families customarily visit graves regularly, especially on religious holidays.

One woman I encountered at her husband’s grave told me that it was a helpful way to break up her day and the loneliness that filled it after 47 years of marriage. Although she had adult children and grandchildren, it was a way for her to remain dedicated to her spouse. She could no longer cook or clean for him, but she could still tend to him in this way every day. It offered her solace to visit his final resting place.

And yet, it is not the final resting place!! In Greece, after three years, the remains are exhumed. Not because of foul play and the need to inspect a potential crime scene. No, this is by tradition and public order.

Rest in peace? I think not.

Why in heaven’s name would you desecrate a grave by breaking the marble entombment and removing the remains. How could that possibly honor or pay tribute to the deceased?

I am OK with the memorials—even so many of them—as it can be a way of healing from the loss and, in many ways, there are physical acts (tending the grave daily or weekly; preparing for the memorial services) that help give those left behind a sense of purpose. They can keep the memory of the departed alive, both for themselves and the friends and family around them.

However, at year three, the Greeks exhume their loved ones’ remains, a macabre rite that is difficult for many to accept. The reality is that there are practical, cultural, and religious reasons for this practice so alien to outsiders.

Greek cemeteries, especially in urban areas, are small and have limited burial plots. Due to this spatial constraint, gravesites are typically “rented” for a set period, often three years. After this time, unless the family pays to extend the lease (which can be very expensive), the body is exhumed to make space for a new burial.

According to Greek Orthodox Christian belief, the soul departs the body at death but goes through a process of judgment, with memorial services (mnemosyna) held at specific intervals. The third-year memorial is particularly important, believed to mark the conclusion of the soul’s transition. It is also seen as a final farewell, coinciding with the typical time of exhumation.

So, the remains are exhumed.

I have been present for this practice.

I came to the public cemetery in Athens with an ossuary box, wine, vinegar, and a monetary tip in an envelope for those who would “unbury” my father-in-law.

Weeks later, I was given the documentation necessary to bring an ossuary with Papou’s remains back to Mykonos.

A cemetery worker exhumes the bones. A member of the family must be present on the day the grave is opened and as the bones are retrieved. The family provides wine, a white sheet, and a metal ossuary in which the bones are placed. The exhumed bones are carefully washed with wine by the cemetery worker and then allowed to dry.

Sometimes, the body has not decomposed completely, which sometimes happens and which is hard for those above ground to witness and process. From the Greek Orthodox perspective, this “failure” can be interpreted as a sign of unfinished spiritual business, and special prayers or rituals may be performed.

To my mind, there is little dignity in all this for the departed, and it is extremely painful for the family members present, especially if they have already been haunted by horrible memories of their loved ones becoming unrecognizable in the late stages of disease.

However, what feels morbid to me about this practice is viewed by Greeks as just a continuation of respect for the dead “by other means,” as well as an opportunity for closure, remembrance, and religious observance. Nonetheless, it is still lost on me.

Weeks after the exhumation, the remains are released to the family. They may then be placed in a space in the public cemetery reserved for remains or they may be placed in the crypt of a family chapel.

On Mykonos, we have more than 700 family chapels. Almost always, if a family has such a chapel, remains will be placed in the family crypt.

A few weeks back, we put my dearest cousin Marina’s remains into the crypt at a family chapel here on the island. Her son and husband carried her ossuary home from Athens. Marina’s bones, her mother’s, and the remains of an aunt, uncle, and cousin are all finally at rest. Once we slid the marble back over the opening of the crypt, we were overwhelmed by the realization that we had fulfilled Marina’s oldest dream: to be a resident of Mykonos once and for all.

Although it is with some pleasure that we were able to make Marina’s residency on Mykonos final and forever, I truly do not believe we should ever, needlessly disturb the dead.

As much as I would prefer not ever to go through a Greek death odyssey again, I know that it is part and parcel of living in Greece. A year and a half from now, we will bring home from Athens the bones of Marina’s son Pantelis, who died unexpectedly 18 months ago.