Soaring on Wings

So this last week or so has just been very crazy, which I feel is the theme of my life lately.

This weekend my closest friend here lost both his parents in a car accident, and it was just so very sad. The customs here for funerals are so different from those that we have in the states. I ended up going and staying and helping the family for the whole thing and man, it was a long, hard bit.

The night of the death, the whole family stays up and stays with the deceased, as to not leave them alone. THis one happened to be in the home of the deceased since their son is still living there. I assume otherwise it would be in another family member’s home. Its like a rememberance wake, and it goes on all night here in this part of Mexico. I stayed up until 5 am serving hot coffee and tea to those that had come to the house. And there were a lot of people who showed up. And also, there was live music until about 11 or 12 during this wake. It is a time to sit with family and freinds and remember the person and to just be with them. It’s really sad and happy at the same time…a very odd thing. At one moment people are laughing about a memory, which then makes it very sad immeadiately since the caskets are right there in front of you and you’re in the space where the lived and breathed every day. It’s hard to describe.

The next morning, without anyone going home, everyone went to the church for the funeral mass. The caskets, which were loaded into the back of a truck,  then are followed as everyone who was attending followed on foot to the church. There were people of all ages walking with candles and flowers and such, enough to stop traffic and make a police escort necessary.I ended up going in the truck, as I had been asked to escort the grandmother and take care of her, and it was almost surreal to look out the back window of the truck and see both the caskets and the people and the flowers and hear the band, since the same band came back and was walking with everyone and playing music at the same time.

After a long, slow and sad 3 or so miles through the town, we arrived at the church, where the funeral mass was given. It was really somber and sad, especially staying with the grandmother who was grieving the loss of her daughter.  It was a beautiful church though, and a beautiful message, especially with how the priest still sang the parts of the mass and it echoed off all the walls, even if it wasn’t in Latin. The priest talked about how God causes all to happen for a reason, despite our lack of knowledge of why life is happening the way that it is.To end it, he baptized the coffins again, baptizing the deceased and then about 8 men picked up the coffins to carry them on foot again to the cemetary.

The cemetary was farther away, and everyone was following the caskets again. Once we got to the cemetary they lowered the caskets into what can only be described as a cement shelf structure underground that belonged to the family. In essence, they just put the caskets in the family lot, and its like a shelf where they stack them all, so they all stay together. I went down into it, to put a flower on his mother’s grave, and it was quite an odd thing. To go down into it with a ladder. Some others passed and did the same, and the caskets are cemented into place. It felt very final and such, having a funeral and at the same time wathing someone mix cement and having them going down into the grave and all while everyone was still standing around. It almost made it more final than just leaving and going back oneday and seeing that there is now dirt there, like we do in the US. You see the finality of it all.

After the burial, everyone goes back to the house for lunch, which is when I just stayed in the kitchen and helped serve drinks again. There are memorial type flower arrangements placed where the coffins sat and everyone just sits around again and spends time together. Rosary is then said that night, and the following nights, as everyone gathers around to pray for the deceased and the family in general.

ALso, in light of how it happened, after lunch we went to the sight of the accident to leave crosses and flowers and pray as well. It was very surreal to see. The scrap metal from the accident was still just brushed to the side of the road. Someone found a sandal in the mess, and there was a discussion whether or not it was his mom’s or not. (I don’t know what ended up happening, but it seemed sad that the mess was left there unattended). After prayers and lit candles, the whole group went back to the house again and had more coffee and tea, though after a couple hours I had to leave. After nearly 24 hours of cleaning and dishes and all that and with all the emotional stress, I was worn out.

I know it seems odd to describe this all in a blog, but I do it for a couple reasons. One, despite the fact that I was torn apart beyond words to know that his mom was gone ( I was almost over the house everyday and really, really loved her as a human being and a really good person) I found it crazy that I had no idea what to do being in a different culture. It is interesting how we see things, such as death, so differently. We would never think of having a live band and normal (like dancing) music at someone’s funeral in the US. Also, I think to vent. I have been sad beyond belief since it happened, with an actual physical pain in my chest. I was supposed to go visit this morning, before it all happened and I still feel that if I were to go she would just walk out of the kitchen and be there, or be on her way back from an errand to town or something. It’s surreal. That is the only way I can describe it. It is very hard to hide my sorrow, still at this point.

She was such a beautiful lady, I miss her terribly. Her home and the way she made it and the way it was always so open and full of hospitality and welcoming, made me really want to be here. People like her make me want to stay here. And that is the honest to God truth.  It was just a beautiful home and a wonderful place to be. Always.

I really don’t know what else to say. SHe’ll def be missed by a LOT of people. Please pray for the family and my friend, he is still in shock about it all. He’s so worreid about serving coffee and tea to the family for the next week (they will visit until then) that as of day 2 he hadn’t eaten anything or slept at all.

LIfe is sometimes a lot of heartache, but we must move on (as he told me the other day),

J

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 20th, 2009 at 12:56 am and is filed under Friends. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.