Content note: This article discusses post mortem photography and historical mourning practices. It does not include images, but some linked museum and archival resources may feature photographs of the deceased.
If you’ve ever come across a Victorian-era photograph where someone looks oddly still—posed on a settee, tucked into a bed, or surrounded by flowers—you may have stumbled into the world of memento mori photos. To modern eyes, Victorian death photography can feel startling, even unsettling. But for many families in the 1800s and early 1900s, these images were not a spectacle. They were a practical and deeply emotional response to a simple reality: death was close, photographs were rare, and a “last likeness” could be the only visual record a family ever had.
Understanding the tradition is not about romanticizing grief or treating mourning like a curiosity. It’s about recognizing what families were trying to do—hold onto a face, a presence, a relationship—at a time when people had fewer ways to preserve memory. And once you see that impulse clearly, the distance between then and now gets smaller. Today, families still reach for the same kind of anchoring: a portrait on the mantel, a lock of hair in a keepsake box, a memorial video at a service, or a meaningful physical memorial like cremation urns for ashes or cremation jewelry that keeps someone close.
What “Memento Mori” Really Meant to Families
The phrase “memento mori” is often used loosely online, as if it simply means “spooky old photos.” Historically, it’s much more precise. The Latin phrase translates to “remember you must die,” and it refers to objects or art meant to remind the living of mortality and life’s brevity. Encyclopaedia Britannica describes memento mori meaning as a reminder of mortality and the transitory nature of earthly life. The Science Museum similarly explains memento mori as objects that remind viewers of death’s inevitability and life’s shortness.
In the nineteenth century, photography became a new “object” in that tradition—one that could be private, portable, and intimate. A photo wasn’t only documentation. It was a way of saying: this life mattered, and it deserves to be remembered. For families, the picture could function like a devotional item, a condolence letter you can hold, or a quiet companion in the months that followed a loss.
Why Post-Mortem Photographs Became Common
To understand why postmortem photos became so widespread, you have to remember what photography was in its early decades: limited, expensive, and extraordinary. Many people simply did not have portraits taken during life, especially children. The Clements Library at the University of Michigan notes that memorial and post-mortem photography was common from the birth of the daguerreotype in 1839 into the early twentieth century, in part because many people—especially children—had no photographs while living.
The Library of Congress describes postmortem photographs as images made to be preserved as keepsakes by those in mourning, beginning as early as 1839. The language matters: “keepsake.” These were not created for public consumption. They were made to be held, tucked into an album, placed in a locket, or shared with relatives who lived too far away to attend a burial.
There was also a cultural factor that’s easy to miss from a modern vantage point. For many families, death still happened at home. The rituals around washing and laying out the body were often performed by relatives. When death is physically present in the household, the line between “the living room” and “the mourning room” is not as rigid as it feels today. The camera entered a world where mourning was already woven into domestic life.
The “Last Sleep” Pose and the Visual Language of Mourning
If you’ve seen antique mourning portraits, you’ve probably noticed how often the deceased looks as though they are sleeping. This wasn’t accidental, and it wasn’t only about making the image easier to look at. In an interview published by the Getty, a curator explains that a common pose is “the last sleep”—an attempt to present the deceased as peacefully at rest, even when death itself may not have been gentle. The goal was comfort, not deception: a visual reassurance that suffering had ended.
Within that “sleep” framework, families used a set of recognizable choices—poses, props, and placement—that carried meaning. These weren’t rigid rules, and they varied by region and era, but the patterns show what families valued.
- Bed or couch placement suggested rest, privacy, and tenderness—often used for children.
- Flowers signaled grief, love, and (in Christian contexts) the hope of resurrection or the beauty of a life remembered.
- Hands folded or clasped often conveyed prayer, composure, or a sense of “proper” farewell.
- Family grouping made the photograph less about the body and more about the relationship—“we belong to one another.”
- Inclusion of cherished objects (a toy, a book, a uniform) affirmed identity, especially when a person’s life was cut short.
Another category can be difficult to process today: images where the deceased is positioned upright or “participating” in a family scene. These are among the most misunderstood, often treated as a morbid novelty online. In reality, they reflect a family trying to preserve continuity. The picture says: you were here, you are part of us, and we refuse to let the relationship vanish instantly just because life ended.
Mourning Photography Beyond the Household
Post-mortem photography didn’t exist in isolation. It belonged to a wider ecosystem of nineteenth-century mourning practices: memorial jewelry containing hair, mourning stationery, black crepe fabric, and portraiture that incorporated symbols of loss. Even royal households used photography and objects as part of grief. The Royal Collection Trust describes how Queen Victoria, after Prince Albert’s death, commissioned photographs and decorative objects that memorialized him—an example of how images and material mementos functioned as a continuing bond, not a one-time ceremony.
That “continuing bond” idea matters for families today, too. Grief rarely moves in a straight line, and many people discover they need more than a single day of services. They want a place for love to land—something stable when everything else feels changed.
Why the Practice Faded, and What Replaced It
So why did mourning photography history shift? Part of the answer is practical: as cameras became common, people accumulated more living photographs, so the urgency of a “first and only portrait” decreased. Part of it is cultural: over time, death moved out of the home and into institutions, changing what families saw and what they were expected to handle. The Clements Library notes that attitudes toward post-mortem photography changed as attitudes toward death changed, including reduced everyday comfort with corpses as care moved away from families.
But the deeper truth is that the need didn’t disappear. It migrated. Families still create memorial images; they just do it differently: a favorite portrait printed for the service, a slideshow, a memorial webpage, a necklace with fingerprints, a photo engraved onto stone, or a framed picture next to an urn. The method changes, but the emotional intent is recognizable across centuries.
How to View Post-Mortem Photos Respectfully Today
If you inherit old albums, find photographs in an archive, or come across Victorian funeral customs in a historical exhibit, it helps to approach the images with a few grounding principles. You don’t need to “like” the practice to view it ethically. You simply need to remember that you’re looking at someone else’s grief.
- Assume the photograph was made for love, not display. The Library of Congress emphasizes these were keepsakes for mourners.
- Avoid sensational framing. Treat captions and sharing choices as you would with any private family loss.
- Honor context. What looks strange now often made emotional sense then—especially when photos were rare.
- Be mindful of identity. If the person is named, consider whether public reposting would violate the spirit of the original intention.
In other words: don’t flatten the image into “death culture history” content. Let it remain what it likely was—a family trying to keep a connection when they had limited tools for doing so.
What This History Teaches Modern Families About Memorial Choices
Even if you never engage with post mortem photography directly, the tradition can still offer something useful: permission. Permission to want a tangible memorial. Permission to keep something close. Permission to acknowledge that grief is not only emotional—it’s also physical and practical. People still reach for objects because objects hold steadiness.
That’s one reason funeral planning today often includes conversations about memorialization, not just disposition. And disposition choices have shifted significantly. According to the National Funeral Directors Association, the U.S. cremation rate is projected to be 63.4% in 2025, compared with a projected burial rate of 31.6%. The same NFDA statistics page also notes that among those who prefer cremation, many envision different outcomes for the cremated remains, including keeping them in an urn at home.
Meanwhile, the Cremation Association of North America reports a U.S. cremation rate of 61.8% in 2024 and projects continued growth in coming years. Those numbers aren’t just trendlines—they represent millions of families who will eventually face the question that comes after cremation: what to do with ashes.
If your family is in that place, the decision doesn’t have to be dramatic. It can be gentle and structured, built around what feels comforting rather than what looks “right” to outsiders.
Creating a Memorial “Anchor” at Home
Historically, a post-mortem photograph often became a household anchor—an object that helped a family orient themselves after loss. Today, many families create an anchor in a different way: a framed photo, a candle, a small shelf, and a carefully chosen urn. If you’re exploring options, Funeral.com’s collection of cremation urns for ashes is designed to show the range of styles families actually live with—traditional, modern, and understated.
Some families prefer a smaller footprint, especially if they live in an apartment, share space with roommates, or simply want something discreet. In those situations, small cremation urns can be a practical choice, particularly when the plan involves sharing or a later placement at a cemetery or columbarium.
And because families don’t always grieve in one house, many choose keepsake urns—small vessels intended to hold a portion of cremains so siblings, adult children, or close friends can each have a tangible connection. If you want a calm explanation of how keepsakes work, Funeral.com’s guide Keepsake Urns for Ashes is a useful starting point, especially when families are trying to avoid conflict and make a plan that feels fair.
Keeping Ashes at Home, Without the Stress
The phrase keeping ashes at home can sound simple until you try to live with it. Where do they go? Is it legal? What if you move? What if kids or pets are in the home? Funeral.com’s article Keeping Cremation Ashes at Home walks through the practical realities in plain language.
If you’re earlier in the process and still brainstorming, Funeral.com’s guide What to Do With Ashes can help you see options without forcing a decision before you’re ready. That’s often the healthiest approach: give yourself a menu, then choose when your nervous system has calmed a bit.
Water Burial, Sea Scattering, and the Rules Families Need to Know
For some families, the most meaningful setting is water—ocean, lake, or river—because it reflects the person’s life or values. The term water burial is sometimes used casually, but when you’re talking about ocean burial in U.S. waters, there are federal rules. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency explains that burial at sea of cremated remains must take place at least three nautical miles from shore, and it outlines notification requirements and materials that are allowed or prohibited.
If your family wants help translating the language into a practical plan, Funeral.com’s article Water Burial and Burial at Sea offers a family-centered walkthrough. The goal is not to overcomplicate the moment, but to protect it—so the ritual is peaceful instead of stressful.
Memorial Jewelry as a Modern “Keepsake Portrait”
For many people, grief follows them into ordinary life. That’s one reason cremation jewelry has become such an important option. In an earlier era, a photograph might have been carried in a pocket or kept in a locket. Today, a portion of cremains can be carried in cremation necklaces or other jewelry designed for that purpose.
If you want to browse styles, Funeral.com’s cremation necklaces collection is a direct entry point, and the broader collection of cremation jewelry includes additional formats like pendants and charms. For the “how does this actually work” questions—capacity, filling, materials, and what to expect—Funeral.com’s guide Cremation Jewelry 101 is designed to reduce uncertainty.
Pet Loss, Pet Urns, and a Familiar Kind of Love
One detail people sometimes don’t realize is that post-mortem photographs historically included pets as well; the Library of Congress scope note explicitly mentions photographs of deceased persons or pets. That continuity—our desire to preserve love after loss—shows up strongly in modern pet memorialization, too.
Families choosing pet urns are often trying to do something very similar to what nineteenth-century families were doing: protect the bond from being erased by time. Funeral.com’s collection of pet urns for ashes (also called pet cremation urns) includes styles designed for dogs, cats, and other companions. For families who want an object that feels more like a portrait in three dimensions, pet figurine cremation urns can capture personality in a way that’s comforting. And when several people want a share—especially in blended families—pet keepsake cremation urns can help everyone hold onto a small, meaningful connection.
Cost Questions Are Part of Grief, Too
Historically, post-mortem photography was sometimes a family’s one “extra” expense in a season of loss, because the photograph mattered. Today, families still face financial realities while trying to do something meaningful. According to the National Funeral Directors Association, the national median cost of a funeral with viewing and burial in 2023 was $8,300, while the median cost of a funeral with cremation was $6,280 (as reported on NFDA’s statistics page). Those figures don’t capture every possible arrangement, but they help explain why many families weigh cremation and a later memorial service as part of their plan.
If your immediate question is how much does cremation cost where you live, it can help to see the common fee categories and where quotes diverge. Funeral.com’s guide How Much Does Cremation Cost breaks it down in a way that’s meant to reduce surprises.
From Memento Mori to Modern Memorials: The Throughline Is Love
The most important lesson in the history of mourning photography is not that people were “different” then. It’s that they were profoundly familiar. They did what grieving families have always done: they reached for the tools available to them, trying to hold onto someone who mattered.
In the nineteenth century, that tool might have been a final photograph—carefully posed, tenderly arranged, and kept close for decades. Today, the tools are different, but the intention remains: a ceremony that feels true, a plan that prevents family conflict, an object that steadies you on hard days. Sometimes that looks like a simple shelf with a portrait and cremation urns. Sometimes it looks like small cremation urns shared among siblings. Sometimes it looks like cremation jewelry worn quietly under a shirt. Sometimes it looks like a carefully planned water burial that returns someone to a place they loved.
If you’re planning now—or if you’re mourning and trying to make decisions while your heart is still raw—consider giving yourself permission to choose what brings steadiness. That’s what these historical photographs were, at their core: a steadiness object. Not an invitation to stare at death, but a way to keep love visible in a world that had changed.
And if you’re not sure where to begin, starting with one calm question often helps: do we want a memorial we can come back to at home, or a memorial that’s primarily about a place? Once you answer that, the next steps—urn, keepsake, jewelry, scattering, ceremony—tend to arrange themselves in a way that feels less overwhelming and more like care.
