Alexandra Kathryn Mosca — Exploring Life and Death: A Writer's Journey

I’ve stood in cathedrals, temples, and on city streets, notebook in hand. As a funeral director and writer, I’ve seen public grief become performance, legacy woven into ritual, and iconic lives distilled into final acts. Attending and writing about the funerals of public figures—Mayor Ed Koch, Governor Hugh Carey, Joan Rivers, Justice Antonin Scalia, Celia Cruz, and Eva Perón—shaped my view of mourning as both intimate and theatrical.

All these funerals taught me how we honor greatness and reconcile public personas with private grief. They were more than ceremonies—they reflected culture, politics, and our need to say goodbye with grandeur. As I write about mourning, fashion, and legacy, these moments stay with me—a reminder that the famous may pass, but their stories endure.

Eva Perón: Saint, Sinner, Symbol

My first profile was of First Lady Eva Perón’s funeral in Argentina—one of the grandest ever, attended by dignitaries and celebrities, celebrated for its opulence.

Though I wasn’t there in 1952, writing about Eva Perón’s funeral was like entering a myth. Her body traveled on a gun carriage through Buenos Aires. Millions gathered. The descamisados wept as if mourning a saint. I explored her paradoxes—charity and ambition, tenderness and political fire. Her funeral was not just a farewell but a canonization of complexity.

Mayor Ed Koch: The Quintessential New Yorker’s Last Bow

At Temple Emanu-El, Koch’s funeral felt like a civic opera. His casket, draped in the city’s flag, entered as dignitaries lined the pews. Yet the ordinary New Yorkers outside reminded me that Koch belonged to the people. I noted the applause that broke out as his casket exited to “New York, New York” on the pipe organ: a final “How’m I doin’?”—answered by a city that knew.

To me, it was the perfect funeral as it had all the elements a good funeral should: a body, a religious service, eulogies, tears, laughter, and a burial.

Celia Cruz: The Queen of Salsa’s Rhythmic Farewell

A profile of Salsa Queen Celia Cruz followed at the suggestion of our office manager at the funeral home who explained how much she had meant to the Latin community. And my research bore that out.

Celia’s funeral was a procession of music, flags, and tears. Her glass-encased casket, draped in the Cuban flag, moved through Manhattan like a royal carriage. Fans danced in the streets. At St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Patti LaBelle sang “Ave Maria.” I wrote about the way her sequined spirit refused to be silenced. Even in death, she was rhythm incarnate. Her voice echoed in the cathedral, in the crowd, in the memory of every mourner.

Governor Mario Cuomo: The Philosopher of Public Service

At St. Ignatius Loyola Church in Manhattan, Mario Cuomo’s funeral gathered presidents, poets, and everyday New Yorkers. His son, Governor Andrew Cuomo, delivered a eulogy. He painted his father as “a philosopher, a poet, a crusader”—a man whose politics were inseparable from his humanity. Bill and Hillary Clinton, Eric Holder, and Mayor de Blasio sat among mourners. Cuomo’s daughters and grandchildren read scripture.

I wrote how Cuomo’s legacy—three terms as governor –was honored not with pomp, but with poetry. His wake stretched down the block, quietly testifying to a man who spoke for the “better angels” of public life. Even political rival George Pataki paid respects, recalling Cuomo’s graciousness in defeat.

Joan Rivers: A Showbiz Send-Off Worthy of Her Legend

Rivers wanted a spectacle at her funeral—and Temple Emanu-El delivered. At the star-studded memorial service, in 2014 Hugh Jackman sang, Howard Stern provided irreverent jokes, and bagpipes played “Give My Regards to Broadway.” I wrote about how her daughter Melissa Rivers’ letter inspired laughter through tears. It was grief with glitter, mourning with mascara.

    That day, the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus, and actor/singer Hugh Jackman provided musical tributes to the late comedienne, after which several celebrities memorialized Rivers with salty language, and ribald humor. Such humor was her hallmark, and I experienced it for myself as we traded quips about my occupation when I was once a guest on her talk show. 

Justice Antonin Scalia: Faith, Family, and Constitutional Reverence

In Washington, at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Scalia’s funeral was solemn and steeped in Catholic tradition. His son, Father Paul Scalia, delivered a eulogy blending theology and tenderness. I wrote about the folding chairs, the quiet power of Clarence Thomas reading scripture, and the way Scalia’s legacy— brilliant, devout—was honored with reverence, not rhetoric.

Detective Steven McDonald: Forgiveness in the Face of Tragedy

On Friday the 13th, an unseasonably warm January day in 2017, thousands of uniformed police officers lined Fifth Avenue for Det. Steven McDonald’s funeral. Throngs of onlookers stood behind barricades that stretched for blocks. The Cathedral bells sounded mournfully in a slow peal. The Emerald Society marching band drums added a slow cadence. At 10:00 A.M., the hearse bearing McDonald’s casket, escorted by more than 200 police motorcycles, reached the steps of St. Patrick’s. Twenty-one police vans and seven buses transported people with passes to attend the Mass. Cardinal Timothy Dolan, New York’s Archbishop, greeted the congregation, standing ready to bless McDonald’s flag-draped casket as the entrance hymn “How Great Thou Art” played softly.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral overflowed with mourners as McDonald was remembered not just for his service, but for his grace. Shot by a teenager in Central Park, he chose forgiveness over bitterness. He became a global symbol of peace. His son Conor, now an NYPD officer, called him “a real superman.” I wrote about the bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace” and NYPD helicopters flying in formation. McDonald’s life—confined to a wheelchair but expansive in spirit—taught New York that love must win.

Detective Anastasios Tsakos: A Greek-American Hero Mourned in Blue

Detective Anastasios Tsakos was struck and killed by a drunk driver while diverting traffic from a fatal crash. His passing during the holiest week on the Greek calendar, gave some a measure of solace. As one social media post read: “It was very hard to listen to the beautiful Easter hymns celebrating Christ’s Resurrection at a funeral. But then again, Officer Tsakos, you were a very exceptional human being if God chose to take you during Easter.”

At the religious service at Saint Paraskevi Greek Orthodox Church Greek in Greenlawn Archbishop Elpidophoros addressed the crowd, “In the face of the overwhelming grief and sorrow of this moment, the church speaks to us with the name of the man we are here to remember and honor today, for Anastasios means ‘Resurrection’.  

I wrote about the motorcycles rumbling in tribute and the Greek hymns echoing through the sanctuary. His legacy—bravery, compassion, and quiet heroism—was etched into every tearful salute.