Reflections upon a death, funeral, and some sad observations

On Independence Day, Frau received word that an aunt had died. That shook her, since she had wanted to visit her, but Frau’s own health problems precluded it. It took the immediate family a little time to get organized, and she waited impatiently anxiously for the arrangements to be published. She was concerned that her own health would preclude her participation in saying good bye, and seeing again people from the good times long past. Eventually the arrangements were announced, and she prepared for the sad days ahead. Today was the last of those days.

As a blogger, I captured a few thoughts and observations. Some silly. Some funny. Some poignant. Some insightful. You’ll sort out which are which.

We attended the wake, the funeral Mass, and the final service.

* The wake has to be one of the more barbaric legacies of the past. The body is displayed and everyone remarks how “good” or “bad” the deceased looks. Duh. They are dead. Often after having undergone some of the most horrendous “medical procedures” of their life. Hard to look “good” in death.

* The deceased is dressed by relatives, who I guess think that the Final Judge will be impressed by a business-like attire as our life’s worth is assessed. I always remember another of Frau’s relatives who dressed the deceased in a “heavy metal” t-shirt so the widow exclaimed, proclaimed, and explained to any who would listen that “he would always be comfortable in the afterlife”. By contrast, it made as much sense. In this case, the attire was traditional.

* I had the inspired idea, probably from reading the “name tag” guy’s blog, that at the wake, the funeral home (now there is a strange appellation to hang on a business) should have color coded name tags for the arriving mourners. (Black for immediate direct family. Red for relatives on the deceased mother’s side. Blue for the father’s side. Green for the co-workers. Purple for real friends. Magenta for acquaintances. Pink for those barely known. White for strangers off the street. You can tell I had too much time on my hands during this session. But it was probably a more acceptable idea than my others — booklets listing all relatives and friends like a baseball program, introductions like at a wedding where the bridal party is announced, or a photo session with each visitor by the casket. Like I said, too much time on my hands.)

* Another relative pointed out to me that there were some people who scan the obits on a daily basis, see people who they “know”, and drop by to the wakes. Now that’s one bizarre concept of a “hobby”. It’s like the criminals that read the obits and go burglarize the homes of the deceased and grieving during the wakes and funerals. I was also told that the police put the addresses on special watch lists for extra attention. (As an anti-statist, I find it had to believe that the gooferment could be that pro-active. I’d more likely believe that they can’t read and if they could they’d be the one’s doing the crime. But then I’m jaded.) I just nodded with interest, thinking I had to get this in my blog!

* The funeral Mass spawned another whole set of musings. The old priest gave a interesting homily about the “church desert lady, who always told people after dinner to save their forks, because the best was yet to come”. A little hokey. If your dessert was so good, wouldn’t you give people clean forks to eat it with? But, he was just trying to make a point, I guess. (Again too much time on my hands. I was always taught to pay attention when some one was speaking since they may have a good idea to share. I did observe some of the old folks nodding and some young folks texting. But, he was interesting.)

* The priest admitted he never met the deceased. But, then later proceeded to say some things as if he knew her. Obviously prepped by someone. Wasn’t too outlandish. Unless you actually listened to what he was saying. But he was trying to be comforting. At least he was concise.

* Had the mandatory use of incense. Makes me sick. And, I guess it has some metaphoric (or maybe meteoric) meaning that escapes me.

* Had three “alter boys”, two of whom were NOT boys. Only the middle girl seemed to know the drill. She kept the other two prompted as the priest patiently waited for them to catch up. The youngest girl’s bejeweled beach flip flops caught my eye, and led to this observation.

* Leaving aside all the feminist observations about the Catholic Church, and the pedophile controversy that has stripped priests and religious of any deference, it’s a far cry from the alter boys of my youth. In those days, there were tests and auditions. And, you — if you were into that sort of thing — had to earn your way onto the “first team”, and you had to be “certified” to assist at Mass, Weddings, or Funerals. And, you could lose your status if you botched it up. There was even the Pastor’s circle, where the premier alter boys were listed. In those days, it was a lucrative hobby, since the alter boys received tips or a cut of the take from an event. Today it just looks lame. Like a dying beached whale.

* In the details of the Funeral Mass, it’s obvious who’s practicing and who’s lapsed. Maybe it’s the advent of the gooferment skoolz teaching secular progressivism. Maybe it’s the feel good generation that thinks that they can do whatever they want. Maybe it’s the a fore mentioned scandals. Maybe it’s the lack of an oral tradition. Maybe it’s “education”. Teaching evolution and that we are just smelly dirty hairless monkeys. But it was clear that it’s the religion of the old and not the youth.

* Every young girl in the deceased’s family had a visible tattoo. (Not a value judgment. Just a stunning observation.) Two of the six had visible piercings. (Ouch, just looking at them, hurt. Reminds me of my now deceased father-in-law who made a rare familial rule “if God had wanted you to have holes in your ears, he’d have provided them”. To which Frau would respond “so we should be going around naked then”. But she never got her ears pierced. On a theological level, it made perfect sense to me with my four years of D’s in theology. If you believe that we are made in the “image and likeness of God” then it’s impertinent to mess with his creation. Don’t the Jews ban from their consecrated cemeteries, any deceased with tattoos? And the Orthodox Jews want spilled blood buried with the deceased. Interesting to us forensic anthropologists.)

* As the funeral procession left the Church for the next stop, I noticed with interest that at one intersection a man tipped his hat. And, along the way an older woman blessed herself as we passed. (Yeah, I know too much time on my hands, but we were going slow. 15 to 20 mphs! I had lots of time to avoid hitting any one.)

* We went to the cemetery. The deceased was to be cremated so it was “interesting” to go to the cemetery. The funeral director led us in the side road that ended with “dead end” sign just in front of the open cemetery gate. I thought that was very funny. But in keeping with the occasion, I didn’t laugh out loud. (But inside I was ROFL!)

* One other observation, in the repast, various people chatted with Frau. One told us that she was never getting married. (I think she had children.) And another proclaimed that the deceased was thrilled when she told of the teller’s wedding plans and that teller wasn’t pregnant. (Again not a value judgment. An interesting perspective on marriage in the modern society?) (I remember that in my youth the Nuns would put special attention on the religious formation of the girls. The young girls got special propaganda sessions on religion and familial values. I never got a straight answer why from any priest, nun, or brother. But a cantor once explained to me that in the religious traditions of the Jews, the woman was the home maker. And, practically, if you had the hearts of the girls, then they would bring the boys into line. Seems logical. If that’s the case based on the evidence I saw today, the Churches have lost the war.)

Maybe I’m just an old fuddy duddy.

So this was the last of two sad days. I thought the deceased was a sharp witted lady who was in her own way very daring. She always “hung” with us at wakes, and kept things lively with her thoughts and chuckles.

I’ll miss her.

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