We passed a local Catholic cemetery this afternoon and it was packed with cars and people. The whole place was alive with color and movement. Family members were sprucing up gravesites, decorating them with flowers - primarily large, bright flowers such as marigolds and chrysanthemums - setting out and enjoying a picnic, and interacting socially with other family and community members who were also gathered at the cemetery. The meals prepared for these picnics are sumptuous, usually featuring meat dishes in spicy sauces, cookies, chocolate, and sugary confections in a variety of animal or skull shapes, as well as a special egg-batter bread called “Pan de Muerto” (Bread of the Dead). Similar to the Mardi Gras’ King Cake, it is considered good luck to be the one who bites into the plastic toy skeleton hidden by the baker in each rounded loaf. It is also traditional to remember the departed by telling stories about them.
I took the time to remember my late older brother Ed who passed away 2 years ago today. Too young to die for sure, and still greatly missed by me. I also remembered my Mom who passed away 2 years ago this January to come. Some might consider 76 ‘young’ but she had been ill for so long and had suffered enough, it was a blessing that she died in her sleep as she had wished. This time of year was her favorite and I am just like her in that way.
If I could tell one story about each of them it would be these, first my brother: one Saturday, husband and I went to my brother’s house for dinner and just hanging out. They (husband & brother) decided to chop some wood for a fire. Pretty soon they came rushing into the house to say that Ed had to go to the ER right away. Husband drives him there. When the Dr asks my brother how so many splinters got embedded into his hand, he replies “we were chopping firewood,” and husband chimes in “with our hands.” Later, my SIL and I learned that a bottle of Jack Daniels was involved in the wood chopping.
For my Mom: she was an enthusiastic Grandmother. During high school, many moons ago, my oldest nephew Richard played the Lead in the school’s production of Cyrano (de Bergerac), huge, ugly nose and all. So while Cyrano is hiding in the bushes feeding words of love to Christian the Nobleman who in turn recites them to the lovely Roxane, Mom gets involved, and with tears in her eyes she unconsciously sobs “Oh Richard!” out loud. My nephew turns beat red and says “Grandma!!!!!!” and the entire audience roared.
Cheers!
3 comments:
Love the wood-chopping story. :-)
I also love the idea of a cemetery full of bright flowers. Here the winters are so brown (be it dead grass, mud or leftover sand) that bright colors quickly look gaudy.
OK, here's the question - does asphodel (the flower) still grow in Knox County, Ohio? It's mentioned in the school song. One librarian blew me off, another was stumped, another had part of the answer, but didn't know eh song.
my ability to freak out humans has put me in the position where i don't go to funerals and in my families case they would rather i not attend.
i used to get stressed out because i heard voices and said to people can you hear that. not sure what it is i call it voices.
the last funeral i attended was for my uncles well that just upset everyone and you know what they were pissing me off enough so i had to do it.
they were all crying how he was such a nice and giving person and he has gone to a better place.
I just said that's a load of bull he was a drunk and a trouble maker you all hated him and he has not gone to a better place he is standing right there at the head of the grave smiling at you idiots.
lets just say i did not attend the after funeral dinner, and i have not attended a funeral since.
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