Cremation became legal in Sweden in 1888, but it was not until the mid-20th century that it became socially accepted alongside traditional coffin burials. Since then, its popularity has steadily increased — first in cities, but eventually in rural areas as well.
During the 1990s, around 60% of Swedes chose cremation. Today, in the 2020s, the number has risen to approximately 83–86%.
So why has cremation become the obvious choice for so many?
A Less Church-Centered Tradition
For those who are not religious themselves, a funeral that feels less closely tied to the church can be more appealing. Of course, a coffin burial can be arranged without a priest present (just as an urn burial can take place in a church ceremony). Still, even though traditions are slowly changing, coffin burials remain strongly associated with religion in our cultural heritage.
Greater Freedom in Choosing a Final Resting Place
In Sweden, a coffin burial may only take place in a cemetery, while cremation allows for more flexibility regarding where ashes may be buried or scattered.
You can read more about the different options in this post HERE.
In the past, people were more likely to be born, live, and die in the same place.
Families often lived nearby, making it easier to attend funerals and visit graves on anniversaries or during grave maintenance.
Today, families are often spread across the country — or even the world. Visiting a grave may require planning, travel, and expense. When ashes are scattered instead, people sometimes find comfort in the idea that they can visit their loved one at any cemetery, when the ashes are spread by the wind.
Practical and Financial Reasons
Even when cremation reflects the wishes of the deceased, lower costs or a simpler ceremony — or even no ceremony at all — can bring feelings of guilt or shame for those arranging the funeral.
If you are reading this while carrying those feelings, I want to be very clear:
The price tag of a funeral says nothing about the depth of love or grief.
Do not push yourself into emotional or financial hardship just to “prove” how much you cared. You already know what you feel — and that is enough.
No Body = No Death?
One of the few concerns I see with the increasing number of cremations is when it becomes a way to distance ourselves from the reality of death.
A funeral can be an important part of the grieving process — helping us understand, not only intellectually but emotionally, that the person has truly died. This can be especially significant if there was no opportunity to see the body beforehand.
A coffin is strongly associated with the presence of the deceased, while an urn can sometimes create emotional distance from the fact that we are looking at a loved one’s physical remains.
As a society, we have already hidden death away far too much, and I hope cremation does not become another step in that direction.
“I don’t want worms crawling on me!”
That was my grandmother’s reason for choosing cremation — and she was cremated.
Personally, I think a coffin burial sounds like a feast for the tiny creatures living in the soil. Considering how much humanity takes from nature and the environment, there is something comforting about giving a little nourishment back to the earth.
Do you want to be cremated? Why — or why not?
A short story with Quinley & Herrow
Who are Quinley and Herrow?
In Coffinfolk Café’s stand alone short stories, you’ll meet two most unlikely friends:
Quinley – Coffinfolk’s café host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people – whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.
Herrow – Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.
You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting HERE
“A Feather-Light Truth”
Narrated by Quinley
The front door flew open so fast the little bell barely had time to ring before heavy footsteps stomped across the café’s worn wooden floor.
“Where is he?!” Johanna demanded. I jerked my thumb toward the spot beside me on the sofa where Herrow sat, leaning back comfortably.
Johanna drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and forced her shoulders to relax.
“Death is not dangerous, not dangerous, not dangerous…” The mantra seemed to calm her enough to finally see what she had avoided for so long. She opened her eyes again and jolted when the Grim Reaper became visible to her. She cleared her throat.
“H-Herrow… may I borrow your scythe? I’d like to knock some sense into my old mother.”
“That doesn’t work, believe me. I tried the same thing with Harley once,” I laughed, reaching for the scythe resting beside the sofa. “Hold out your arm and you’ll see.”
With a mix of curiosity, fascination, and trust, Johanna extended her arm toward me. I raised the scythe high above my head and swung with full force.
Just as expected, she gasped and jerked her arm back.
“See? Nothing.” I placed the scythe back where it belonged.
“Wow…” Johanna ran her fingers over the knitted fabric of her sleeve. “It felt like a feather brushing against me…”
I could swear Herrow rolled his eyes at me. Remarkable how expressive a skeleton can be. Then again, he’s had a few millennia to practice.
“Sit down,” Herrow said, gesturing toward the sofa opposite us. “Tell us what’s going on.”
Johanna sank into the cushions with a defeated sigh.
“Mom’s cancer has spread faster than expected, so…” She shrugged. “You know how she is — direct, no unnecessary fuss. She told Dad and me how she wants her funeral. Dad thought it sounded beautiful, but I don’t know…”
She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees.
Herrow sat quietly beside me. I was about to ask for more details when I felt a bony hand on my shoulder — a gentle reminder that silence doesn’t always need to be filled with words.
“Mom wants to be cremated. She wants a memorial service with the urn in church, and afterward her ashes scattered in the forest by their summer house.” Johanna rubbed her temples, eyes fixed on the floor.
I agreed with her father — it sounded lovely. Her mother had always loved wandering those woods. It felt like the perfect place to spread her ashes.
“…but you would have wanted something different?” I asked gently.
Johanna lifted her head and met my eyes.
“A funeral without a coffin or a grave feels… incomplete. Unfinished. Like trying to cheat death.” She glanced at Herrow.
“I certainly don’t feel led by the nose,” Herrow chuckled at his own wording. “By the time the funeral takes place, my work is already done. The funeral — and the grieving — belong to the living.”
Johanna nodded with a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“That’s exactly it. I’m afraid it’ll be harder to grieve if I don’t see the coffin, if I don’t get to place a flower on it and say goodbye… if there’s no grave to visit or take care of.”
“Has she been admitted to the hospital again?” I asked, leaning forward to mirror Johanna’s posture.
“Yes. Two days ago. This time… she probably won’t come home.”
“Could you tell the medical staff that you’d like to say goodbye before… before she leaves the ward, when the time comes? So they already know what you need?”
“I will.” Johanna smiled softly, blinking away a tear. “That would feel right. Just Dad and me in the room.” She smiled wider and blinked away a tear. “Maybe… maybe I could talk to Mom about choosing a specific spot in the forest as a memorial place. Almost like a grave.”
“Yes!” I nodded encouragingly. “And you could decorate it however you like, without having to consider cemetery rules.”
“There I could put that awful vase Mom loves. It would probably offend everyone visiting the cemetery. Maybe even the ones resting there,” Johanna laughed, wiping her eyes.
“The wild animals aren’t nearly as picky. They’d probably appreciate a bit of art to investigate out in the woods.”
When Johanna burst into full laughter, I first thought it might turn into a breakdown. Instead, she pointed at the scythe, struggling to speak between giggles.
“Maybe— haha! Maybe I was the one who needed a slap to see clearly… even if it felt like a feather. Thank you!”
I glanced between Johanna, the scythe, and Herrow. With exaggerated drama, I crossed my arms and tried to look offended, even as my own smile betrayed me.
“I clearly didn’t swing hard enough at Harley…”
That sent Johanna into another fit of laughter, and I couldn’t hold mine back either.
Sometimes you simply have to laugh in the middle of everything — with or without newfound clarity.